Skip to main content

Full text of "Blackwood's magazine"

See other formats 


Presented  to  the 

UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO 
LIBRARY 

by  the 

ONTARIO  LEGISLATIVE 
LIBRARY 

1980 


i^ARSWELL  Co, Limited! 


Bookbinders. 

i  PRINTERS, 
i  LAW  BOOKS 


J  TORONTO 


BLACKWOOD'S 

MAGAZINE. 


VOL.    OCX. 


JULY— DECEMBER   1921, 


NEW   YORK: 
THE    LEONAED    SCOTT    PUBLICATION    CO., 

249    WEST    13TH    STREET. 


1921. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

A  FISHING  TRIP  IN  THE  EMEIIALD  ISLE.  BY  A.  w.  LONG,  .  734 
A  MAN  IN  THE  MAKING.  BY  BARTIMEUS,  .  .A '  l* .  '*V  44 
A  SHOOTING  TRIP  IN  THE  EMERALD  ISLE.  BY  A.  w.  LONG,  466 
A  TRADE  EEPORT  ONLY.  BY  c.  E.  MONTAGUE,  .  .  .  335 
AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  ARABS,  .  4  f.'~'  .  '?  '.'.'•  .  145 
AN  ENGLISHWOMAN'S  EXPERIENCES  IN  BOLSHEVIK  PRISONS. 

BY  L.  BOWLER,  .  .  ;"'  ".  **  V  •  •  707 
AN  OUTLAW  OF  OLD  CEYLON.  BY  JASPER  MARTIN,  '."  '•'  778 
As  BEFITS  MY  POSITION.  BY  MRS  SAMUEL  PEPYS. 

(BEING  EXTRACTS  FROM  HER  DIARY),      ...        91,  269 
BARE  FORESTS.    BY  x.,  .         .         .         .         .         .     319 

BLUE  MOUNTAINS.    BY  x.,  .         .         .         .         .         .25 

DESERT  BLADES,         ........     565 

FELICITAS — A  TALE  OF  MEXICO.  BY  ANDREW  MARSHALL,  .  655 
"  FIGHT  FANS  " — AND  "  THE  FOURTH."  BY  DESMOND  YOUNG,  262 
FROM  THE  OUTPOSTS — 

A  FALSE  PROPHET  IN  THE  SUDAN.    BY  LIEUT. -COLONEL 

C.  E.  VICKERY,  C.M.G.,  D.S.O.,  R.F.A.,       .        .        .     402 

JOTTINGS  FROM  BARATARIA,  .         .         ...         .         .     255 

ON  THE  MARCH  WITH  ELEPHANTS.     BY  H.  WARINGTON 

SMYTH,  C.M.G., 251 

SEVEN   YEARS    OF  WAR   AND    THE    SALT   EANGE.     BY 

"  PUNJAB  CAPTAIN,"       ......     454 

THE  HIGHER  EDUCATION.    BY  j.  p.,      .         .         .         .     410 

GREEN  HILLS.    BY  x.,       V 639 

HEATHER  MIXTURE.    BY  KLAXON,        .         .         382,  429,  582,  788 


iv  Contents. 

IN  CAMP  IN  A  CEYLON  JUNGLE,  *        .         .         .         .     538 

KHUDU.    BY  L.  v.  s.  B.,     .         .         .         .         .         .         .     373 

ME,  OPENSHAW  PRESENTS BY  DOUGLAS  G.  BROWNE,       .     234 

MUSINGS  WITHOUT  METHOD,         .  135,  277,  416,  552,  694,  832 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.  BY  j.  A.  STRAHAN,  ....  221 
ON  HAZARDOUS  SERVICE.  BY  MERVYN  LAMB,  .  .  .  120 
EIFLE  THIEVES  OF  IRAQ.  BY  BRIGADIER-GENERAL  H.  H. 

AUSTIN,  C.B.,  C.M.G.,  D.S.O.,  ._.....  492 
SOME  TRIBULATIONS  OF  A  PUBLIC  SERVANT.  BY  A.  c.  COMPTON,  809 
TALES  OF  THE  E.I.C.,  „  -  -  .  .^  .  1,199,289,610 
THE  FORBIDDEN  FORTRESS  OF  KHURASAN.  BY  L.  v.  s.  BLACKER,  824 
THE  LORD  PHAULKON.  BY  DAVID  HANNAY,  4  A  ,  x.  624 
THE  VOYAGE  HOME.  BY  ALAN  GRAHAM,  .  .  ..  r  .*  69, 173 
Two  HOTELS.  BY  HOPE  DAWLISH,  .  .  .  ,.r. ;,  ,  349 
VENGEANCE  OF  BLOOD.  BY  ALAN  BOTT,  ,..  ,  s-  _, ..  ,  .„  103 
VIGNETTES.  BY  ELLA  MACMAHON,  .  ..  . .  r  ..  r  ..  515 
WORLD  EEVOLUTION,  .  ... ,  .  f  t..  ,.  9  v,.,  764 

INDEX,       ..-.-.         .         .      -{ ;       "V     • ''.  '      .     843 


BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE. 


No.  MCCLXIX. 


JULY  1921. 


VOL.  CCX. 


TALES   OF   THE   E.I.C. 


IX.   THE  REWARD   OF  LOYALTY. 


FOR  some  time  after  the 
death  of  Anthony  Mayne,  the 
murdered  R.M.,  Petty  Sessions 
Courts  ceased  to  be  held  in 
Ballybor,  and  the  Sinn  Fein 
Courts  reigned  supreme.  At 
length  Mayne's  successor  ar- 
rived, and  endeavoured  to  start 
the  Courts  in  his  district  again, 
but  found  that  not  only  were 
the  country  people  too  terror- 
ised to  bring  any  cases  before  a 
British  Court,  but  that  most  of 
the  magistrates  had  resigned, 
and  none  of  the  few  remain- 
ing ones  would  face  the  bench. 

However,  Fitzmaurice,  the 
new  E.M.,  stuck  to  it,  and  in 
the  end  a  retired  officer,  living 
just  outside  Ballybor,  became 
a  magistrate  for  the  county  ; 
and  suddenly,  to  the  intense 
excitement  of  the  whole  town, 
it  was  given  out  that  some 
countryman  had  had  the  au- 
dacity to  defy  the  edict  of 
Bail  Eireann,  and  to  summon 
a  neighbour  to  appear  before 
the  British  magistrates. 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXIX. 


The  courthouse  at  Ballybor 
is  a  most  curious-looking  edifice 
of  an  unknown  style  of  archi- 
tecture, shabby  and  dismal 
outside  and  like  a  vault  inside. 
On  the  day  that  the  Court 
reopened  the  place  was  packed 
to  the  doors,  and  when  the 
clerk  stood  up  to  announce 
the  Court  open,  and  ending 
with  the  words,  "  God  save  the 
King !  "  the  silence  could  be  felt. 

It  was  what  is  known  in  the 
West  of  Ireland  as  a  "  saft 
day  " — a  day  of  heavy  drizzling 
rain  and  a  mild  west  wind  off 
the  Atlantic,  and  after  a  time 
the  crowded  courthouse  of 
countrymen  in  soaked  home- 
spuns and  women  with  reeking 
shawls  over  their  heads  liter- 
ally began  to  steam,  and  the 
strong  acrid  smell  of  turf  smoke 
from  the  drying  clothes  became 
overpowering.  At  first  all  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  two  magis- 
trates sitting  on  the  raised  dais 
at  one  end  of  the  courthouse, 
and  many,  remembering  poor 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[July 


Mayne's  end,  wondered  how 
long  the  two  had  to  live.  The 
R.M.,  they  knew,  was  well 
paid  by  the  British  Govern- 
ment, but  the  second  magis- 
trate's unpaid  loyalty  must 
surely  be  a  form  of  madness,  or 
most  likely  he  received  secret 
pay  from  the  Government. 

After  the  disposal  of  cases 
brought  by  the  police  for  vari- 
ous offences,  the  only  civil  case 
on  the  list — in  reality  the  be- 
ginning of  a  trial  of  strength 
between  Shin  Fein  and  the 
British  Government — came  on 
for  hearing,  and  in  due  course 
the  magistrates  gave  a  decision 
in  favour  of  the  complainant, 
a  herd  by  name  Mickey  Cole- 
man. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  sus- 
pension of  the  law,  a  neighbour, 
Ned  Foley,  had  thought  to  get 
free  grazing,  and  day  after  day 
had  deliberately  driven  his 
cattle  on  to  Coleman's  land. 
Coleman,  having  remonstrated 
repeatedly  with  Foley  in  vain, 
consulted  a  Ballybor  solicitor, 
who  advised  him  to  bring 
Foley  into  a  Sinn  Fein  Court, 
where,  he  assured  him,  he 
would  get  full  justice.  This 
Coleman  refused  to  do,  and 
after  consulting  a  second  solici- 
tor, brought  the  case  before  the 
Ballybor  Petty  Sessions  Court. 

Coleman  appears  to  have 
been  a  man  of  great  determin- 
ation and  courage,  as  he  had 
been  repeatedly  warned  by  the 
Volunteers  that  if  he  persisted 
in  taking  Foley  into  a  British 
Court  they  would  make  his 
life  a  hell  on  earth ;  and  as 
he  left  the  court  after  whining 
his  case,  a  note  was  slipped 


into  his  hand  to  the  effect  that 
the  I.R.A.  neither  forgets  nor 
forgives. 

Coleman  had  started  life  as 
a  farm  labourer,  eventually 
becoming  herd  to  a  Loyalist 
called  Vyvian  Carew,  whose 
ancestors  came  over  to  Ireland 
in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
and  who  lived  alone  in  a  large 
house  about  eight  miles  from 
Ballybor,  where  he  farmed  his 
own  demesne  of  four  hundred 
Irish  acres. 

Carew  belonged  to  a  class 
of  Irishman  fast  dying  out  in 
the  West,  and  considering  that 
it  has  always  been  the  policy 
of  every  Liberal  Government 
to  throw  them  to  the  wolves, 
it  is  almost  beyond  belief  that 
any  are  left  in  the  country. 
A  type  of  man  any  country 
can  ill  afford  to  lose,  and  all 
countries  ought  to  be  proud 
and  glad  to  gain.  After  serving 
throughout  the  late  war  in  the 
British  Army,  Carew  had  re- 
turned home,  hoping  to  live 
in  peace  and  quiet  for  the  rest 
of  his  days,  but  had  soon  been 
undeceived.  Though  working 
himself  as  hard  as  any  small 
farmer,  and  farming  his  land 
far  better  than  any  other  man 
in  the  district,  it  was  decided 
by  men  who  coveted  his  acres 
that  he  possessed  too  many, 
and  the  usual  steps  in  the  West 
were  taken  to  make  him  give 
up  three  of  his  four  hundred 
acres,  and  if  possible  force  him 
to  sell  out  all. 

Coleman  started  with  a  heavy 
heart  for  his  cottage  in  Boss- 
bane,  Carew's  demesne,  and 
from  the  moment  he  left  the 
courthouse  until  he  lifted  the 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


latch  of  his  door  found  himself 
treated  as  a  leper  by  townsfolk 
and  country  people  alike.  Pro- 
bably some  of  the  people  would 
have  been  willing  to  speak  to 
him,  and  most  likely  many 
admired  his  pluck,  but  a  man 
who  comes  under  the  curse  of 
the  I.R.A.  is  to  be  avoided  at 
any  costs.  Wo  man  can  tell 
when  that  sinister  curse,  which 
is  often  a  matter  of  life  and 
death  to  a  peasant,  may  be 
extended  to  an  unwary  sym- 
pathiser. 

In  the  evening,  when  going 
round  the  cattle,  he  met  his 
master,  who,  on  being  shown 
the  threatening  note,  at  once 
wanted  Coleman  to  bring  his 
family  up  to  the  big  house  ; 
but  he  refused,  knowing  that 
if  he  did  his  cottage  would 
probably  be  burnt  and  his  own 
few  cattle  either  stolen  or 
maimed. 

Soon  after  eleven  that  night 
there  came  a  loud  knock  at 
the  door,  and  Coleman,  who 
had  been  sitting  by  the  fire 
expecting  a  visit,  rose  up  to 
meet  his  fate,  but  was  caught 
by  his  terrified  wife,  who  clung 
to  him  with  the  strength  of 
despair.  At  last  Coleman  suc- 
ceeded in  opening  the  door, 
and  to  their  utter  astonishment 
in  walked  a  British  officer, 
dressed  in  khaki  topcoat,  steel 
helmet,  and  with  a  belt  and 
holster.  The  officer  explained 
that  he  came  from  Castleport, 
that  he  had  a  large  party  of 
soldiers  on  the  road  outside, 
and  that  he  was  going  to  scour 
the  countryside  for  rebels  that 
night.  Lastly,  he  said  that  he 
had  been  told  Coleman  was 


well  disposed,  and  would  he 
help  him  by  giving  informa- 
tion t 

Coleman,  who  at  the  sight 
of  a  British  officer  in  a  steel 
helmet,  when  he  expected  a 
Volunteer  with  a  black  mask, 
had  been  overcome  with  joy, 
at  the  mention  of  that  sinister 
word  "  information  "  regained 
his  senses,  and  answered  that 
he  had  none  to  give  ;  that  he 
was  only  a  poor  herd  striving 
to  do  his  work  and  keep  a  wife 
and  a  long  weak  family,  and 
that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with 
politics. 

The  officer  said  nothing,  but 
sat  down  by  the  fire  on  a  stool 
and  started  to  play  with  the 
children  ;  presently  he  returned 
to  the  charge  again,  and  asked 
the  herd  where  the  Foleys 
lived,  and  if  they  were  Volun- 
teers. The  mention  of  the 
name  of  FoJey  confirmed  Cole- 
man in  his  growing  suspicion, 
and  he  replied  that  he  knew 
the  Foleys  for  quiet  decent 
boys,  and  he  believed  that 
they  had  nothing  at  all  to  do 
with  politics. 

Shortly  afterwards  the  officer 
wished  them  good  night,  leav- 
ing Coleman  and  his  wife  a 
prey  to  conflicting  emotions. 
If  he  really  was  a  British 
officer,  then  at  any  rate  they 
were  safe  for  that  night,  but 
if  not,  then  probably  some 
terrible  outrage  was  brewing. 
Only  a  week  before  the  Volun- 
teers had  set  fire,  while  the 
inmates  were  in  bed,  to  the 
house  of  a  farmer,  who  had 
bought  the  farm  a  few  days 
previously  at  a  public  auction, 
contrary  to  the  orders  of  the 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Jnly 


I.E. A. ;  and  though  the  in- 
mates just  managed  to  escape 
in  their  night  attire,  their  two 
horses  and  a  cow  were  burnt 
to  death,  and  their  charred 
bodies  could  still  be  seen  lying 
amid  the  ruins  from  the  main 
road — a  warning  to  all  who 
thought  of  disobeying  the 
I.E.A. 

After  the  time  it  would  take 
to  walk  to  the  Foleys'  house 
and  back  there  came  a  second 
knock,  and  the  officer  entered 
again,  pushing  one  of  the  young 
Foleys  in  front  of  him  with  his 
hands  up.  "  Here's  the  young 
blighter,"  said  the  officer  to 
Coleman,  "  and  if  you  will  give 
the  necessary  information  about 
him,  I'll  have  him  shot  by  my 
men  outside  at  once." 

But  Coleman,  whose  sus- 
picion by  now  was  a  certainty, 
refused  to  be  drawn,  and  re- 
plied that  he  knew  nothing 
against  the  Foleys,  and  that 
they  were  quiet  respectable 
neighbours. 

For  some  time  the  officer 
tried  his  best  to  get  Coleman 
to  give  evidence  against  Foley, 
but  at  last,  finding  it  was  use- 
less, left,  taking  his  prisoner 
with  him. 

By  now  the  Colemans  were 
too  unhappy  to  go  to  bed,  and 
sat  round  the  fire  in  silence. 
After  an  hour  there  came  a 
third  knock,  and  again  the 
officer  appeared  ;  but  this  time 
Coleman  could  see  quile  a 
different  expression  on  his  face, 
and  in  a  brutal  voice,  not 
taking  the  trouble  to  hide  his 
brogue,  he  bade  the  unfortu- 
nate herd  "  get  up  out  of  that 
and  come  outside." 


Coleman  followed  his  tor- 
mentor outside,  and  there 
found  a  mob  of  young  men 
and  boys  waiting  for  him,  who 
proceeded  to  kick  him  along 
the  road  for  a  mile,  when  he 
could  go  no  farther,  and  fell 
on  the  road.  They  then  tied 
his  hands  and  ankles,  and  left 
him  in  the  middle  of  the  road 
for  a  police  car  to  run  over 
him.  And  here  he  lay  all  night 
in  the  rain. 

The  next  day  was  market- 
day  in  Ballybor,  and  many  of 
the  country  people  started  early 
in  their  carts  for  the  town,  and 
though  none  drove  over  the 
herd,  yet  one  and  all  passed 
by  on  the  other  side. 

Luckily,  when  the  herd  was 
nearly  gone  from  cold  and  ex- 
posure, the  good  Samaritan 
appeared  in  the  shape  of  Carew 
driving  to  Ballybor,  and  in  a 
short  time  he  had  Coleman 
back  at  Eossbane  in  front  of 
a  big  turf  fire ;  and  after  plac- 
ing him  in  charge  of  the  cook, 
brought  the  herd's  family  to 
a  cottage  in  the  yard,  and  then 
drove  into  Ballybor  to  see 
Blake.  But  the  D.I.  had  Ms 
hands  too  full  to  be  able  to 
give  protection  to  individuals. 

At  this  time,  next  to  Sinn 
Fein,  the  Transport  Union  was 
the  strongest  party  in  the 
West,  and  being  composed  of 
landless  men,  its  main  object 
was  to  gain  land  for  its  members 
by  all  and  every  means  in  its 
power,  with  the  result  that  their 
attention  was  concentrated  on 
outing  all  men  with  four  hun- 
dred acres  or  more  in  their 
possession,  and  next  would 
come  the  men  with  three  hun- 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


dred  acres,  and  so  on  down  the 
scale. 

The  farmer  with  forty  acres 
or  thereabouts — the  best  class 
of  small  farmer  in  the  West, 
and  if  let  alone  the  most  law- 
abiding,  as  they  are  numerous 
and  possess  something  worth 
holding  on  to — soon  realised 
where  this  would  lead  to,  and 
tried  to  apply  the  brakes. 
They  would  have  succeeded 
but  for  their  younger  sons, 
who,  in  the  ordinary  course 
of  events,  would  have  found 
good  employment  in  the  States, 
but  under  present  circum- 
stances have  to  remain  at 
home  helping  to  make  small 
fortunes  for  their  parents.  It 
is  this  class  of  young  men 
who,  with  the  shop  boys,  form 
the  rank  and  file  of  the  I.E. A., 
and  in  the  case  of  the  farmers' 
sons  it  is  the  Western  peasants' 
usual  characteristic  of  "  land 
hunger  "  which  forms  the  chief 
driving  power. 

At  one  period  it  looked  as 
though  Sinn  Fein  and  the 
Transport  Union  would  come 
to  loggerheads  ;  but  Sinn  Fein 
proved  too  strong,  and  the 
two  became  partners  to  all 
intents  and  purposes. 

A  few  days  after  he  had 
returned  from  his  fruitless  visit 
to  Blake,  Carew  received  a 
letter  from  the  secretary  of 
the  local  branch  of  the  Trans- 
port Union  calling  upon  him 
to  dismiss  Coleman,  and  that 
if  he  did  not  comply  at  once 
the  Union  would  call  out  all 
his  men.  Carew  ignored  the 
letter  and  the  threat. 

The  Owenmore  river  runs 
through  Eossbane,  roughly  di- 


viding it  "into  two  equal  parts, 
and  after  a  fortnight  Carew 
received  a  letter  from  the 
I.E.A.  calling  upon  him  to  at- 
tend a  Sinn  Fein  Court  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday  night  at  Cloon- 
alla  Chapel,  and  saying  that 
the  part  of  his  demesne  sepa- 
rated from  the  house  by  the 
river  was  to  be  taken  from 
him,  and  if  he  wished  to  claim 
"  compensation  "  he  must  at- 
tend the  "  Court."  And  again 
Carew  ignored  the  letter. 

A  week  afterwards  all  his 
farm  hands  and  servants,  with 
the  exception  of  the  cook, 
Katey  Brogan,  simply  van- 
ished, and  Carew  found  himself 
with  only  Katey  and  Coleman 
to  keep  going  a  large  house 
and  a  four-hundred-acre  farm. 
Nothing  daunted,  he  took  the 
Colemans  into  the  house,  made 
Mrs  Coleman  cook  and  Katey 
housemaid,  whilst  Coleman  and 
he  determined  to  carry  on  with 
the  farming  as  best  they  could. 
A  few  days  after  a  little  girl 
brought  a  message  that  Katey's 
father  was  very  ill,  and  that 
her  mother  wished  her  to  go 
home  at  once;  so  Katey  left 
immediately,  and  the  following 
day  Carew  rode  over  to  see  if 
he  could  help  the  Brogans, 
knowing  that  they  were  miser- 
ably poor. 

The  Brogans  lived  in  a  two- 
roomed  hovel  on  the  verge  of 
a  bog,  and  on  entering  a  ter- 
rible sight  met  Carew's  eyes. 
The  old  man  lay  dead  in  one 
bed,  Katey  dead  in  the  second 
bed  with  a  large  bullet-hole 
through  her  forehead,  and  the 
old  mother  crooning  over  the 
fire  ashes,  stark  mad. 


6 


Tales  oftheRJ.C. 


[July 


He  then  tried  to  find  out 
what  had  happened  from  two 
neighbouring  cottages,  but  in 
each  case  the  door  was  slammed 
in  his  face  with  a  curse  of  fear. 
After  wandering  about  for  over 
an  hour  he  met  a  small  boy, 
who  told  him  the  details  of  the 
worst  murder  the  country  had 
yet  seen. 

It  appeared  that  Katey  must 
have  written  to  the  police  in 
Ballybor  with  reference  to  the 
treatment  of  the  Colemans, 
and  that  the  letter  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  Sinn  Fein 
agents  in  the  post  office. 

Using  old  Brogan's  illness  to 
decoy  Katey  home,  the  mur- 
derers waited  until  midnight, 
when  they  knocked  at  the  door. 
At  the  time  Katey  was  sitting 
by  the  fire  making  broth  for 
her  father,  and  at  once  opened 
the  door,  to  be  confronted  by 
eight  armed  men  wearing  white 
masks  and  black  hats,  one  of 
whom  said,  "  Come  with  us." 
Apparently  Katey  refused, 
whereupon  they  seized  her, 
bound  her  wrists,  and  dragged 
her  screaming  and  struggling 
to  a  field  some  hundred  yards 
from  her  home. 

Here  they  tried  her  by  court- 
martial,  convicted  her,  and  no 
time  was  lost  by  the  assassins 
in  carrying  out  the  death  sen- 
tence. They  then  flung  her 
body  outside  the  cottage,  where 
it  was  found  by  her  mother, 
whose  cries  brought  old  Brogan 
out  of  his  bed,  and  between 
them  they  managed  to  carry 
their  murdered  daughter  in. 
The  shock  was  too  much  for 
the  old  man,  and  he  died 
shortly  after  he  returned  to 


bed,  which  finally  turned  the 
old  woman's  brain. 

Then  followed  weeks  of 
misery.  Every  night  Carew's 
cattle  were  driven,  his  gates 
taken  off  their  hinges  and  flung 
into  the  river,  trees  were  cut 
down,  fences  smashed,  and  the 
showing  of  a  light  at  any 
window  was  the  signal  for  a 
volley  of  shots.  Life  in  the 
trenches  on  the  Western  Front 
was  often  fearful  enough,  but 
to  realise  the  life  Carew  and 
his  herd  led  at  this  time  one 
must  remember  that  they  had 
to  carry  on  week  in  week  out, 
with  no  rest  billets  ever  to 
retire  to,  apart  from  the  fact 
that  at  any  moment  sudden 
death  in  some  horrible  mutilat- 
ing form  might  be  their  lot. 

The  first  fair  at  which  Carew 
tried  to  sell  cattle  warned  him 
of  the  futility  of  attending  any 
more.  Sinn  Fein  "  policemen," 
with  green,  white,  and  yellow 
brassards  on  their  arms,  took 
care  that  no  buyers  came  near 
him,  while  all  the  corner  boys 
in  Ballybor  amused  themselves 
by  driving  his  cattle  backwards 
and  forwards  through  the  fair 
until  they  could  hardly  move. 
Directly  Carew  would  make 
for  one  set  of  tormentors,  a 
fresh  lot  would  appear  behind 
his  back  and  take  up  the 
chase. 

After  starting  Coleman  on 
his  way  home  with  the  weary 
cattle,  he  went  to  the  grocer 
he  had  dealt  with  for  years, 
meaning  to  lay  in  a  good  stock 
of  provisions.  On  entering  the 
shop  the  owner  took  Carew 
into  a  private  room,  and  ex- 
plained that  if  he  sold  one 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  B.I. C. 


pennyworth  of  food  to  him  his 
shop  would  be  burnt  over  his 
head  that  night,  and  that  all 
the  shopkeepers  had  received 
the  same  orders  from  the  I.E. A. 
Carew  then  went  straight  to 
the  police  barracks,  where  the 
police  soon  bought  all  that  he 
required. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when 
Carew  drew  near  to  his  en- 
trance gate,  and  as  his  horse 
started  to  walk  four  men  darted 
out  from  the  shadow  of  the 
demesne  wall,  two  seizing  the 
horse,  while  the  rest,  covering 
him  with  shot-guns,  ordered 
him  to  get  out. 

Carew  had  no  alternative 
but  to  comply,  whereupon  his 
captors  led  him  down  a  lane 
towards  the  river,  where  they 
were  joined  by  a  crowd  of  men 
and  boys.  On  reaching  the 
river  a  violent  argument 
started,  one  section  being  for 
drowning  him  out  of  face, 
while  another  wished  to  give 
him  a  chance  of  his  life  if  he 
would  swear  to  give  up  his 
land.  In  the  end  they  com- 
promised, and  two  tall  men 
took  Carew  by  the  arms  and 
waded  out  into  the  river  with 
him  until  they  were  over  their 
waists. 

The  leader  then  called  out 
to  Carew  that  if  he  would  not 
agree  to  surrender  all  his  lands 
and  promise  to  leave  the  coun- 
try they  would  drown  him 
there  and  then.  In  order  to 
gain  time  Carew  pretended  to 
be  greatly  frightened,  and 
started  a  whining  altercation 
with  the  leader  on  the  bank. 
As  he  expected,  his  would-be 
executioners  soon  joined  in 


heatedly,  so  much  so  that 
shortly  one  let  go  of  his  arm, 
and  throwing  the  other  off  his 
balance  with  a  quick  wrench, 
Carew  dived,  and  swimming 
down  and  across  the  river 
under  water  was  soon  in  safety 
on  the  far  bank.  As  soon  as 
the  crowd  realised  that  their 
prisoner  had  escaped,  they 
opened  fire  on  the  river  at 
once,  hitting  one  of  the  men 
in  the  water,  whereupon  the 
wounded  man's  friends  turned 
on  another  faction  and  a  free 
fight  ensued. 

Once  across  the  river,  Carew 
ran  as  hard  as  he  could  for 
the  house  of  a  friendly  farmer 
living  on  the  main  road  on  the 
east  side,  of  the  river,  borrowed 
a  bicycle  from  the  man,  and 
set  off  for  Ballybor. 

By  great  good  luck,  as  Carew 
reached  the  barracks  in  Bally- 
bor, he  found  Blake  on  the 
point  of  setting  out  on  a  night 
expedition  with  a  Crossley  load 
of  police.  On  hearing  his  story 
Blake  at  once  agreed  to  return 
with  him,  in  the  hope  that 
they  might  be  in  time  to  save 
Eossbane. 

In  order  to  surprise  the  Vol- 
unteers, Blake  went  by  the 
road  on  the  east  side  of  the 
river,  and  on  reaching  Carew's 
demesne  hid  the  car  inside  in 
the  shadow  of  some  trees. 
Carew  then  swam  the  river, 
brought  back  a  boat,  and 
ferried  the  police  across  in 
three  parties. 

The  farm  buildings  and  main 
yard  of  Eossbane  lie  between 
the  house  and  the  river,  and 
on  entering  the  yard  the  police 
found  Coleman  lying  insensible 


8 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


[July 


and  surrounded  by  his  weeping 
wife  and  children.  Learning 
from  the  woman  that  the  Vol- 
unteers were  on  the  point  of 
setting  fire  to  the  house,  the 
police,  led  by  Blake  and  Carew, 
who  was  armed  with  rifle  and 
revolver,  and  by  now  in  a  white 
heat  of  fury,  made  for  the 
house  in  two  parties,  one  under 
Carew  for  the  front  entrance, 
and  the  other  under  Blake  for 
the  back. 

The  last  thing  the  Volunteers 
expected  was  a  brutal  assault 
by  the  police,  and  after  eating 
and  drinking  all  they  could 
find  and  looting  what  happened 
to  take  their  fancy,  they  had 
just  sprayed  petrol  over  the 
hall  and  set  it  on  fire  when 
the  police  entered. 

It  is  not  often  that  the 
E.I.C.  have  the  pleasure  of 
coming  to  grips  with  the  elusive 
I.E.A.,  but  when  they  do  they 
put  paid  in  capital  letters  to 
the  accounts  of  their  murdered 
comrades,  men  shot  in  cold 
blood  in  their  homes,  or  dragged 
unarmed  out  of  trains  and 
butchered  like  cattle. 

The  E.I.C.  are  probably  one 
of  the  finest  fighting  forces  to 
be  found  in  a  continent  where, 
at  the  present  day,  practically 
every  man  is  trained  to  arms, 
and  most  people  have  seen 
the  fight  cornered  rats  will 
put  up. 

The  main  hall  of  Eossbane 
was  in  the  centre  of  the  house, 
and  after  setting  fire  to  it  the 
Volunteers  had  started  to  leave, 
some  by  the  front  door  and 
others  through  the  kitchen, 
with  the  result  that  they  ran 
into  the  arms  of  the  police, 


who  did  not  waste  time  with 
futile  shouts  of  "  hands  up," 
but  proceeded  at  once  to  busi- 
ness. 

At  first  they  fought  in  dark- 
ness ;  but  soon  the  flames 
gathered  strength,  and  their 
glow  silhouetted  the  forms  of 
the  Volunteers,  giving  the  police 
as  good  targets  as  man  could 
wish  for. 

In  a  short  time  the  Volun- 
teers broke;  some  rushed  up- 
stairs never  to  be  seen  alive 
again,  while  others  fled  into 
the  drawing-room  which  opened 
off  the  hall,  only  to  find  escape 
cut  off  by  heavy  barred  shut- 
ters. By  now  the  centre  of 
the  house  was  burning  fiercely, 
and  all  the  police  had  to  do 
to  complete  the  rout  was  to 
wait  outside  the  two  exits  and 
let  the  flames  act  the  part  of 
ferrets.  Ten  minutes  more  saw 
the  end,  and  with  it  the  few 
Volunteers  who  escaped  with 
their  lives,  handcuffed  together 
in  a  miserable  group  in  the 
big  yard,  covered  by  two  Black 
and  Tans.  And  when  the  cap- 
tain of  the  Eossbane  Company 
of  the  I.E.A.  revised  his  com- 
pany roll,  his  pen  must  have 
been  busy  with  "  gone  to 
America  "  after  many  names. 

Dawn  broke  on  a  sight 
worthy  of  modern  Eussia,  on 
the  smouldering  ruins  of  the 
fine  old  house,  on  the  wretched 
groups  of  singed  and  blackened 
Volunteers,  and  on  the  group 
of  still  weeping  Colemans  hud- 
dled in  a  corner  of  the  yard  as 
far  from  the  fire  of  the  Volun- 
teers as  they  could  get. 

Carew,  still  undaunted, 
though  wounded  in  a  leg  and 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  E.I.G. 


9 


shoulder  and  soaked  to  the 
skin  for  hours,  wished  to  stay 
on  in  the  cottage  in  the  yard  ; 
but  as  soon  as  the  fight  was 
over,  Blake  had  sent  half  his 
force  back  to  Ballybor  in  the 
Crosjsley  to  bring  out  more 
transport,  and  the  argument 
was  settled  by  the  arrival  of 
two  Crossleys  and  three  Fords, 
in  which  Blake  returned  to 
barracks,  taking  Carew  and 
the  Colemans  with  him  as  well 
as  the  prisoners.  It  was  im- 
possible to  leave  any  police  at 
Eossbane  ;  the  wounded  had 
to  be  attended  to,  and  Blake 
rightly  guessed  that  the  Volun- 
teers had  had  a  dose  that  night 
which  would  keep  them  quiet 
for  some  time  to  come. 

Carew 's  wounds  were  only 
slight,  and  the  following  day 
he  was  determined  to  return 
to  Eossbane.  Poor  Coleman 
had  no  option  but  to  go  with 
his  master,  having  no  money, 
a  family  to  provide  for,  and 
knowing  full  well  that  he  might 
as  well  ask  for  the  crown  of 
England  as  seek  employment 
elsewhere  in  the  West,  while 
emigration  to  the  States  was 
out  of  the  question. 

Blake  was  now  in  an  awkward 
dilemma.  Unable  to  give  Carew 
protection,  he  feared  that  if  he 
returned  the  chances  were  that 
both  he  and  the  herd  would 
be  murdered.  However,  Carew 
was  determined  to  go,  so  Blake 
gave  out  on  the  quiet  that  if 
anything  happened  to  either  of 
them  the  Auxiliaries  would  be 
called  in,  and  let  him  go. 

For  some  time  Carew  lived 
in  peace.  The  fight  at  the 

VOL.  COX. — NO,  MCCLXIX, 


burning  of  Eossbane  had  put 
the  fear  of  God  into  the  local 
Volunteers,  and  most  of  them 
would  as  soon  have  faced  a 
Lewis  gun  as  face  Carew  in  a 
fighting  mad  temper,  while  the 
threat  of  the  Auxiliaries  stayed 
the  hands  of  the  "  shoot  him 
from  behind  a  wall  brigade." 

At  length  Carew  went  up  to 
Dublin  to  find  out  about  the 
payment  of  his  malicious  injury 
claim  for  the  burning  of  Eoss- 
bane, and  on  his  return  was 
met  at  Ballybor  Station  by 
Blake  with  the  news  that  some 
I.E.A.  flying  column  had  beaten 
Coleman  to  death  and  burnt 
all  the  outbuildings  at  Eoss- 
bane, not  leaving  a  wall  stand- 
ing. 

Carew  wished  now  to  put 
up  a  wooden  hut  at  Eossbane 
and  endeavour  to  carry  on 
alone ;  but  Blake  refused  to 
let  him  go,  and  in  the  end  he 
was  persuaded,  greatly  against 
his  will,  to  sell  his  lands  by 
public  auction. 

The  auction  took  place  in 
Ballybor,  the  lands  being  di- 
vided into  lots  of  a  suitable 
size  to  suit  small  farmers ; 
but  the  auctioneers  did  not 
receive  a  single  bid— the  I.E.A. 
saw  to  that. 

Carew  now  determined  to 
leave  his  lands  waste,  his  home 
in  ruins,  and  as  soon  as  he 
received  the  money  for  his 
malicious  injury  claim,  to  go 
to  British  East  Africa,  there 
to  await  the  return  of  better 
days  in  Ireland,  when  he  in- 
tends to  return  and  rebuild 
the  home  of  his  fathers.  Will 
they  ever  come  ? 

A2 


10 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


[July 


X.  POTEEN. 


There  are  very  few  industries 
in  the  West  of  Ireland,  and  of 
these  by  far  the  most  lucra- 
tive is  the  distillation  of  illicit 
whisky,  or,  as  it  is  generally 
called  by  the  peasants,  poteen. 

The  average  countryman 
would  far  rather  make  a  fiver 
by  sticking  a  stranger  with  a 
horse  than  £100  by  hard  honest 
work.  Add  an  element  of 
danger,  and  he  is  quite  con- 
tent. The  making  of  poteen 
combines  much  profit  with  little 
labour  and  a  good  element  of 
danger,  in  that  the  distiller 
may  be  caught  by  the  police 
and  heavily  fined. 

The  beginning  of  poteen  is 
lost  in  the  mist  of  past  ages, 
and  the  end  will  probably 
synchronise  with  the  end  of 
Ireland ;  the  amount  made 
varies  with  the  demand,  and 
the  demand  fluctuates  with  the 
price  and  supply  of  whisky. 

During  1919,  when  whisky 
became  weak,  dear,  and  scarce, 
and  the  police  for  a  time  prac- 
tically ceased  to  function,  the 
call  for  poteen  became  so  great 
that  the  demand  far  exceeded 
the  supply,  and  for  many 
months  the  whisky  sold  in 
the  majority  of  public-houses 
throughout  the  West  was  made 
up  of  a  mixture  of  three- 
quarters  poteen  and  a  quarter 
whisky. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  last 
century  all  poteen  was  made 
from  malt  in  the  same  way  as 
whisky  is  made,  until  some 
thoughtful  man  argued  that 
If  they  could  make  beer  from 


sugar  in  England,  we  could 
surely  make  poteen  from  the 
same  material  in  Ireland  ;  and 
as  any  one  buying  malt  or 
growing  barley  was  liable  to 
attract  the  eye  of  the  E.I.C., 
all  poteen  ceased  to  be  made 
from  malt,  and  the  far  simpler 
method  of  distilling  from 
"  treacle "  continues  to  this 
day.  Treacle  is  largely  im- 
ported in  barrels  to  Ireland, 
ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of 
fattening  cattle  and  pigs. 

In  the  early  part  of  1919  a 
young  Welshman,  David  Evans, 
was  demobilised  with  a  good 
gratuity,  and  being  a  keen 
fisherman,  determined  he  would 
have  one  good  summer's  sal- 
mon-fishing in  Scotland  before 
settling  down  to  work.  But 
Evans  was  not  the  only  man 
looking  out  for  salmon-fishing 
in  Scotland,  and  he  soon  real- 
ised that  that  country  was  out 
of  the  question. 

During  the  war  Evans  had 
served  at  one  time  in  the  same 
division  with  Blake,  and  think- 
ing that  the  latter  might  know 
of  some  good  salmon-fishing 
at  a  moderate  rent,  he  wrote 
to  him.  By  return  of  post 
came  an  answer  from  Blake, 
saying  that,  owing  to  the  bad 
state  of  the  country,  very  few 
Englishmen  had  taken  fishings 
in  Ireland  that  season,  and 
that  there  was  a  very  good 
stretch  of  the  Owenmore  river, 
about  ten  miles  above  Bally- 
bor,  to  let  at  a  moderate  rent. 
^  Evans  at  once  wired  asking 
Blake  to  take  the  fishing  for 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  B.I.  C. 


11 


him,  and  ten  days  afterwards 
took  up  his  quarters  at  Carra 
Lodge,  a  small  fishing  lodge  on 
the  bank  of  the  river. 

Ireland  has  probably  bene- 
fited more  than  any  other 
country  in  Europe  by  the  war, 
and  not  least  by  the  submarine 
scourge,  which  not  only  raised 
the  prices  of  cattle  and  pigs 
beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice, 
but  also  increased  the  number 
of  salmon  in  Irish  rivers  to 
an  extent  unknown  within  the 
memory  of  man.  Before  the 
war  salmon  and  sea-trout  in 
many  Western  rivers  were 
rapidly  becoming  exterminated 
through  the  great  in«rease  of 
drift-nets  at  sea  ;  but  directly 
the  first  German  submarine 
was  reported  to  have  been  seen 
off  the  West  Coast  not  a  fisher- 
man would  leave  land,  with 
the  result  that  the  fish  had 
free  ingress  to  their  native 
rivers,  and  the  numbers  of 
spawning  fish  were  greatly  in- 
creased. 

Evans  had  great  sport, 
thoroughly  enjoyed  himself,  and 
found  the  peasants  quite  the 
most  charming  and  amusing 
people  he  had  ever  met.  No 
matter  what  sort  of  house  he 
entered,  he  was  received  like 
a  prince  and  bid  ten  thousand 
welcomes ;  a  carefully  dusted 
chair  would  be  placed  by  the 
fireside  for  "  his  honour,"  and 
a  large  jar  of  poteen  produced 
from  under  the  bed. 

Towards  the  end  of  his  time 
at  Carra  Lodge,  Evans  came 
to  the  conclusion  that,  if  he 
could  only  discover  some  way 
of  making  a  decent  income,  he 
would  settle  down  in  the  West 


of  Ireland ;  but  the  question 
of  how  to  make  money  puzzled 
him  greatly.  Farming  did  not 
appeal  to  him,  and  beyond 
that  there  did  not  appear  to 
be  any  other  industry  open  to 
an  enterprising  young  man,  and 
any  profession  was  ruled  out 
owing  to  the  long  period  of 
training  required. 

Before  the  war  Evans  had 
worked  for  a  short  time  in  a 
distillery,  and  had  a  good  idea 
of  how  to  make  whisky  and 
of  malting ;  but  to  start  a 
distillery  in  the  Ballybor  dis- 
trict was  out  of  the  question, 
owing  to  the  smallness  of  his 
capital.  But  if  he  could  not 
make  whisky,  he  could  make 
poteen  with  a  very  small  out- 
lay. 

On  making  inquiries,  he 
found  that  the  possibilities  of 
the  idea  were  enormous  ;  the 
outlay  was  small,  the  returns 
great,  but  the  risks  were  also 
great.  Yet  if  detection  could 
be  avoided,  the  returns  would 
only  be  limited  by  the  amount 
of  treacle  and  malt  available. 

At  this  period  the  country 
people  were  full  of  money,  and 
as  whisky  was  almost  unattain- 
able, they  were  prepared  to  pay 
a  very  high  price  for  poteen, 
and  the  distilleries  were  ra- 
pidly making  fortunes.  Still 
there  was  considerable  danger 
attached  to  the  trade.  The 
police,  though  hardly  ever  seen 
outside  their  barracks  except 
in  large  numbers,  occasionally 
carried  out  extensive  poteen 
raids,  and  as  it  was  nearly  an 
impossibility  to  find  a  house 
without  poteen  in  it,  they  never 
returned  empty-handed. 


12 


Tales  of  the  E.I.C. 


[July 


Having  decided  to  go  into 
the  poteen  trade,  the  next 
question  was  where  to  make  it. 
To  start  distilling  in  a  small 
way  in  a  small  house  merely 
meant  certain  discovery  after 
making  small  profits,  and  Evans 
knew  that  once  he  was  caught 
red-handed  by  the  police  the 
game  would  be  up. 

During  bad  times  in  any 
country,  when  the  honest  but 
timid  men  go  to  the  wall,  the 
unscrupulous  but  bold  men 
come  into  their  own,  and  often 
make  a  fortune  by  means  which 
in  quieter  times  would  be  out 
of  the  question.  Evans  be- 
longed to  the  latter  class. 

Towards  the  end  of  1919 
the  peasants  started  to  burn 
unoccupied  country  -  houses 
throughout  the  South  and 
West.  Doubtless  they  were 
often  burnt  by  wild  young 
men  without  rhyme  or  reason, 
but  also  probably  with  the 
idea  of  making  it  impossible 
for  the  owners  to  return  to 
their  homes,  and  so  force  them 
to  sell  their  demesne  lands  to 
the  very  people  who  had  burnt 
their  houses. 

A  few  miles  from  Carra 
Lodge,  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tains, stood  one  of  the  largest 
houses  in  Connaught,  Ardcum- 
ber  House,  the  family  seat  of 
one  of  the  oldest  Elizabethan 
families  in  Ireland,  and  pro- 
bably the  finest  sporting  de- 
mesne in  the  West.  The 
great  house,  full  of  Shera- 
ton and  Chippendale  furniture, 
commanded  wonderful  views 
of  mountains  and  moors ;  while 
in  front^runs  the  Owenmore 
river,  famous  for  its  salmon 


fishing,  through  a  valley  which 
in  winter  time  can  show  more 
snipe,  duck,  geese,  and  wild 
game  of  all  sorts  than  any 
other  valley  of  its  size  in  the 
British  Isles. 

One  would  have  thought  that 
the  above  sporting  attractions 
would  have  satisfied  any  man  ; 
but  the  owner  was  one  of  those 
queer  Irishmen  who  preferred 
any  country  to  his  own,  and 
divided  his  time  between  Lon- 
don and  Continental  watering- 
places,  leaving  the  management 
of  his  estates  to  an  agent,  who 
lived  in  Ballybor. 

When  reading  the  '  Field  ' 
one  evening,  Evans  came  across 
an  advertisement  of  Ardcumber 
House  to  let  to  a  careful  tenant 
at  a  nominal  rent.  Eealising 
that  the  agent  feared  the  house 
would  be  burnt  if  left  empty, 
he  drove  into  Ballybor  the 
following  day,  took  Blake  with 
him  to  interview  the  agent, 
and  drove  home  with  a  lease 
of  Ardcumber  House  in  his 
pocket,  at  a  rent  which  the 
sale  of  game  and  salmon  would 
cover  twice  over. 

The  best  of  the  fishing  being 
now  over,  Evans  crossed  to 
England,  nominally  to  collect 
his  kit,  in  reality  to  have  a 
large  still  made,  which  he  had 
packed  in  large  cases,  labelled 
furniture,  and  brought  over  by 
long  sea  to  Ballybor.  At  the 
same  time  he  arranged  with  a 
sugar  agent  in  England  to  ship 
treacle  in  paraffin  barrels  to 
Ballyrick  and  Ballybor  as  he 
required  it. 

When  at  home  in  Wales  he 
induced  a  cousin,  John  Evans, 
to  join  him,  and  the  two  set 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


IS 


out  for  Ireland.  In  Dublin 
they  purchased  a  Ford  truck, 
which  they  had  fitted  up  as  a 
shooting  waggonette  with  a 
hood  like  a  box-car,  and  in 
this,  after  obtaining  the  neces- 
sary police  permit  through 
Blake,  they  drove  straight 
down  to  the  West,  and  took  up 
their  quarters  at  Ardcumber. 

They  found  the  house  in 
charge  of  an  old  woman,  who 
lived  in  one  of  the  gate  lodges, 
and  arranged  with  her  to  cook 
for  them  and  look  after  the 
few  rooms  they  used,  allowing 
her  to  go  home  every  evening 
at  six  o'clock. 

At  the  top  of  the  house  they 
found  six  large  rooms  shut  off 
from  the  rest  of  the  house  by 
a  heavy  door  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs.  Here  they  erected 
the  still,  using  a  fireplace  as  a 
flue;  in  a  second  room  they 
erected  wooden  fomenting  ves- 
sels, and  in  a  third  stored  the 
treacle  and  poteen.  In  order 
to  obtain  a  supply  of  water 
they  fitted  a  pipe  to  the  main 
water-supply  tank,  which  was 
in  the  roof  above  the  attics. 

They  now  settled  down  to 
a  regular  routine  of  shooting  by 
day  and  distilling  for  a  greater 
part  of  the  night,  living  en- 
tirely to  themselves.  Once  a 
week  they  drove  into  Bally- 
bor  in  the  Ford  to  obtain 
provisions. 

Whenever  they  learnt  that 
a  consignment  of  treacle  had 
reached  Ballybor  or  Ballyrick, 
they  at  once  removed  it  in 
the  Ford,  stored  it  in  the 
stables,  which  they  kept  care- 
fully locked,  and  carried  the 
treacle  in  large  pails  at  night- 


time to  the  fermenting  vessels 
in  the  attics. 

At  this  time,  so  occupied 
were  the  police  with  looking 
after  themselves,  and  the  coun- 
try people  with  keeping  clear 
of  the  E.I.C.  and  the  Volun- 
teers, that  nobody  gave  a 
thought  to  the  "  two  queer 
foreigners  above  in  the  big 
house "  who  were  mad  on 
shooting. 

As  soon  as  they  had  accumu- 
lated a  good  supply  of  poteen 
(the  Irish  peasant  has  no  fancy 
ideas  about  allowing  poteen  to 
mature,  and  will  as  soon  drink 
it  hot  from  the  still  as  not), 
they  began  to  think  of  how  to 
dispose  of  it  without  calling 
unnecessary  attention  to  them- 
selves. In  the  end  they  de- 
cided not  to  try  distributing 
the  poteen  themselves,  but  to 
find  a  reliable  agent  who  had  a 
good  knowledge  of  the  locality. 

Even  when  he  was  very  poor 
indeed  the  Western  peasant 
always  insisted  on  having  the 
best  of  tea,  or  perhaps  it  would 
be  more  correct  to  say  that  he 
insisted  on  paying  a  high  price. 
At  one  time,  so  great  were  the 
profits  on  tea,  that  merchants 
used  to  send  carts  through  the 
country  districts  selling  nothing 
but  tea,  called  by  the  country 
people  "  tay  carts." 

David  Evans  found  out  that 
the  principal  tea  merchant  for 
the  Ballybor  district — in  fact, 
for  many  miles  round — was  a 
grocer  called  Terence  O'Dowd, 
who  kept  a  large  shop  in  Bally- 
bor, and  had  a  branch  in  Bally- 
rick.  Hearing  that  O'Dowd 
was  fond  of  coursing,  Evans 
called  at  his  shop,  and  after 


14 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


buying  a  quantity  of  provi- 
sions, invited  the  man  to  bring 
his  hounds  out  to  Ardcumber 
the  following  Sunday  for  some 
coursing. 

After  the  coursing  they  took 
O'Dowd  into  their  confidence, 
showed  him  the  distillery,  and 
arranged  that  he  should  act  as 
their  agent.  This  part  was 
simple,  but  the  difficulty  was 
how,  when,  and  where  to  de- 
liver the  goods  to  O'Dowd. 
If  the  "  tay  carts  "  came  to 
Ardcumber,  or  the  distillery 
Ford  went  to  O'Dowd's  con- 
tinually, suspicion  would  be 
aroused.  After  a  long  discus- 
sion they  decided  on  a  plan 
of  action. 

Once  a  week,  when  Evans 
drove  into  Ballybor  for  pro- 
visions, he  was  to  fill  up  the 
Ford  with  poteen  and  leave 
the  car  in  a  shed  in  O'Dowd's 
yard,  where  the  poteen  could 
be  transferred  to  O'Dowd's 
cellars  and  the  car  loaded  up 
with  empties.  O'Dowd  wanted 
to  use  earthenware  jars,  but 
Evans  decided  on  two-gallon 
petrol  tins  as  being  less  likely 
to  excite  suspicion. 

For  a  considerable  time  the 
plan  worked  well.  Evans  took 
a  full  load  weekly  to  O'Dowd's, 
whose  tea  carts  distributed  the 
poteen  far  and  wide  through- 
out the  district. 

One  morning  Blake,  who  had 
spent  a  busy  night  raiding  in 
the  district  for  arms  and  poteen 
stills,  called  in  at  Ardcumber 
on  his  way  home  and  had 
breakfast  with  the  Evans.  Dur- 
ing the  conversation  he  men- 
tioned casually  that  the  coun- 
try was  flooded  with  poteen, 


and  that  they  had  failed  to 
find  out  where  it  was  being 
made,  but  that  they  suspected 
it  was  being  delivered  in  tea 
carts  from  Ballybor. 

As  soon  as  Blake  had  gone 
David  drove  off  into  Ballybor, 
settled  up  his  accounts  with 
O'Dowd,  who  was  only  too 
thankful  to  be  rid  of  the  job 
in  time,  and  before  he  left  for 
home  had  arranged  with  an 
egg  merchant  called  Michael 
Flanagan,  who  sent  lorries  out 
to  all  the  villages  for  miles 
around  collecting  eggs,  to  take 
over  the  agency,  the  petrol 
tins  to  be  hidden  in  the  straw 
of  the  empty  egg-orates. 

The  police  appear  to  have 
had  no  suspicion  of  Evans, 
and  the  probabilities  are  that 
the  Ardcumber  distillery  would 
have  worked  on  indefinitely 
but  for  interference  from  a 
quite  unsuspected  quarter.  The 
Sinn  Fein  leaders  of  the  dis- 
trict began  to  grow  uneasy  at 
the  effects  of  the  apparently 
unlimited  supply  of  poteen  on 
the  discipline  of  the  Volun- 
teers, and  determined  to  put 
down  the  industry. 

Any  men  who  were  now 
found  with  stills  in  their  pos- 
session by  the  Sinn  Fein  police 
were  paraded  before  the  con- 
gregation outside  the  chapels 
after  Mass  on  Sunday  morning, 
the  stills  broken  up  with  ham- 
mers, the  owners  heavily  fined, 
and  then  let  go  with  a  warning 
of  much  severer  penalties  if 
they  were  found  guilty  of  the 
same  offence  again. 

Afterwards  Evans  and  Flan- 
agan received  summonses  to 
appear  on  a  named  date  before 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


15 


a  Sinn  Fein  Court.  Flanagan 
went  and  was  heavily  fined, 
but  Evans  took  no  notice  of 
the  summons. 

Flanagan  was  now,  of  course, 
afraid  to  act  as  agent,  and  the 
question  again  arose  of  how 
they  were  to  get  the  poteen 
to  the  different  buyers.  While 
matters  were  in  this  state 
Flanagan  sent  a  warning  to 
Evans  that  the  Volunteers 
would  raid  Ardcumber  on  a 
certain  night,  and  that  the 
results  would  be  very  un- 
pleasant for  them. 

The  situation  was  now  seri- 
ous. It  was  impossible  for  two 
men  to  defend  such  a  large 
house,  and  once  inside,  the 
Volunteers,  apart  from  the  fact 
that  they  would  probably  shoot 
them,  would  certainly  break 
up  the  distillery,  and  the  rapid 
increase  of  their  bank  balances 
would  cease. 

That  evening  they  received 
a  letter  stating  that  they  had 
been  banished  from  Ireland  by 
an  order  of  the  Sinn  Fein  Court, 
and  giving  them  two  days  in 
which  to  leave  the  country. 
The  same  night,  after  dark,  a 
volley  of  shots  was  fired  through 
the  window  of  every  room 
showing  a  light,  and  the  follow- 
ing morning  they  had  to  cook 
their  own  breakfast,  as  the  old 
woman  did  not  turn  up. 

But  David  Evans  was  not 
beaten  yet.  After  breakfast 
he  motored  into  Ballybor, 
where  he  waited  until  it  was 
dark.  He  then  went  to  the 
barracks,  and  told  Blake  that 
the  Volunteers  had  threatened 
to  raid  Ardcumber  the  follow- 
ing night  for  arms,  and  sug- 


gested that  the  police  should 
ambush^the  Volunteers  in  the 
grounds. 

Blake,  only  too  glad  to  help 
a  friend,  and  eager  to  get  the 
Volunteers  together  in  the  open, 
consented,  and  before  Evans 
left  the  two  had  thought  out 
a  very  pretty  trap. 

It  has  been  mentioned  that 
Ardcumber  stood  at  the  foot 
of  a  range  of  mountains,  which 
isolated  the  Ballybor  country 
on  the  east,  and  across  them 
for  many  miles  there  was  only 
one  track,  which  led  down  to 
the  back  of  the  demesne,  and 
which  was  never  used  except 
by  country  people  bringing  turf 
in  creels  on  donkeys  from  the 
mountain  bogs  during  the  day- 
time. 

Blake  proposed  to  start  out 
the  following  afternoon  with 
a  good  force,  cross  the  moun- 
tains by  the  main  road,  which 
ran  through  a  pass  due  east 
of  Ballybor,  and  return  by  the 
mountain  track,  reaching  Ard- 
cumber demesne  soon  after 
dark.  Here  David  Evans  was 
to  meet  them  and  guide  them 
to  the  scene  of  the  ambush. 
The  district  between  the  de- 
mesne and  the  mountains  was 
thinly  populated,  and  at  that 
hour  no  one  would  be  abroad 
for  fear  of  the  Black  and 
Tans.  The  attackers  would  be 
certain  to  come  from  the  oppo- 
site direction,  and  would  not 
be  likely  to  arrive  before  the 
moon  rose  at  11  P.M. 

The  police,  with  a  party  of 
Cadets  and  two  Lewis  guns, 
were  in  position  by  9  P.M.  in  a 
shrubbery  on  each  side  of  the 
avenue,  about  a  hundred  yards 


16 


Tales  of  the  RJ.C. 


from  the  house.  At  11.30  P.M. 
the  Volunteers,  sure  of  their 
prey,  marched  up  the  avenue 
in  column  of  route,  singing  the 
"  Soldiers'  Song."  When  they 
were  within  forty  yards  Blake 
called  on  them  to  halt,  lay 
down  their  arms,  and  put  up 
their  hands. 

The  column  halted  at  once, 
and  for  a  second  appeared  to 
waver,  but  an  officer  gave  the 
order  to  deploy.  Before  the 
column  could  break  up  both 
Lewis  guns  opened  fire. 

Unfortunately  at  this  mo- 
ment a  dark  cloud  obscured 
the  moon  and  heavy  rain  began 
to  fall,  with  the  result  that, 
after  the  first  short  burst  of 
fire,  the  Volunteers  were  in- 
visible ;  and  though  the  police 
started  in  pursuit,  they  failed 
to  overtake  the  flying  rebels, 
and  had  to  concentrate  on  the 
house. 

After  collecting  and  render- 
ing first-aid  to  the  wounded — 
there  were  none  killed — the 
police  brought  their  cars  up 
to  the  house,  and  shortly  after- 
wards returned  to  Ballybor. 

The  Evanses  were  now  fairly 
safe  from  the  Volunteers,  but 
again  the  question  of  distri- 
buting the  poteen  arose,  and 
this  time  it  looked  as  though 
they  would  have  to  do  it  them- 
selves. They  tried  to  induce 
Flanagan  to  come  on  again ; 
but  the  egg  merchant  was  by 
now  thoroughly  frightened,  and 
thankful  to  get  off  with  a 
heavy  fine.  O'Dowd,  being  a 
police  suspect,  was  out  of  the 
question,  but  there  still  re- 
mained His  Majesty's  mails. 

The  story  of  how  the  Evanses 


had  played  the  police  off  against 
the  Volunteers  was  soon  the 
talk  of  the  countryside  for 
many  a  mile,  and  so  queer  and 
uncertain  is  the  Irish  peasant's 
mentality  that,  where  one  would 
have  expected  them  to  be  furi- 
ous and  determined  to  be 
avenged,  on  the  contrary  their 
great  sense  of  humour  was 
immensely  tickled  at  the  idea 
of  the  police  defending  the 
Ardcumber  distillery,  and  the 
Evanses  became  popular  heroes. 

After  the  Volunteer  attack, 
Blake,  being  afraid  that  they 
might  make  another  attempt 
to  capture  the  arms  in  Ard- 
cumber House,  offered  David 
a  party  of  Black  and  Tans  for 
protection,  but  this  offer  was 
refused. 

For  some  time  His  Majesty's 
mail  cars  carried  the  Ard- 
cumber  poteen  punctually  and 
efficiently — in  fact,  far  better 
than  either  O'Dowd  or  Flana- 
gan had  done.  Petrol  tins 
were  still  used  to  put  the 
poteen  in,  and  Evans  would 
leave  the  full  tins  at  a  garage 
twice  a  week,  where  the  mail 
cars  got  their  petrol  from,  and 
if  a  mail  car  carried  a  few 
extra  tins  of  petrol,  who  thought 
anything  about  it  ? 

Unfortunately  the  mail  con- 
tract for  that  district  ran  out 
a  few  months  afterwards,  and 
this  time  was  given  to  a  man 
from  the  North,  an  Orangeman, 
and  once  again  Evans  had  to 
find  a  fresh  way  of  sending 
round  the  country  his  now 
famous  poteen. 

But  so  popular  had  the 
Evanses  become  that,  instead 
of  having  to  seek  agents,  they 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


17 


received  offers  to  deliver  the 
poteen  from  the  manager  of  a 
creamery  in  the  Cloonalla  dis- 
trict, and  also  from  the  manager 
of  a  Co-operative  Society  in  a 
village  distant  about  four  miles 
from  Ardcumber.  Evans  closed 
with  both  offers,  and  the  cousins 
redoubled  their  efforts  to  turn 
out  all  the  poteen  they  possibly 
could,  knowing  that  an  end 
must  come  sooner  or  later. 

Two  months  afterwards  the 
Auxiliaries  discovered  that  the 
creamery  was  being  used  as  a 
Sinn  Fein  prison,  and,  as  a 
result,  raided  the  place  one 
night  and  burnt  it  to  the 
ground.  Incidentally,  they 
found  several  full  petrol  tins 
in  the  manager's  office,  filled 
up  their  petrol  tanks  with 
them,  and  could  not  make  out 
why  the  cars  would  not  start. 

It  is  both  possible  and  pro- 
bable that,  except  for  some 
unforeseen  accident,  the 
Evanses  might  have  gone  on 
making  and  selling  poteen  for 
an  indefinite  time — in  fact,  as 
long  as  the  country  remained 


in  the  present  state  of  chaos. 
The  distillation  of  poteen  always 
has  and  always  will  appeal  to 
the  Western  peasant,  and  the 
story  of  how  the  Evanses  called 
in  the  police  to  defend  their 
still  against  the  attack  of  the 
Volunteers  will  be  told  over 
the  firesides  of  many  a  cottage 
for  generations  to  come — long 
after  Sinn  Fein  is  dead  and 
buried. 

But  at  last  their  good  luck 
deserted  them.  One  night  while 
working  at  the  still,  John  care- 
lessly knocked  over  an  oil- 
lamp,  and  in  a  moment  the 
old  dry  woodwork  of  the  attic 
was  in  flames.  Before  morn- 
ing the  grand  old  house,  with 
its  great  collection  of  priceless 
furniture,  was  a  smouldering 
ruin,  nothing  but  the  bare 
blackened  walls  standing,  and 
so  it  is  likely  to  remain  for  all 
time. 

The  Evanses,  having  made  a 
considerable  sum  of  money  by 
now,  said  good-bye  to  Blake, 
and  returned  to  their  native 
land. 


xi.  THE  MAYOR'S  CONSCIENCE. 


In  the  spring  of  1920  Blake 
suddenly  received  orders  to 
proceed  to  a  town  in  the  South 
of  Ireland  on  special  duty, 
and  on  applying  for  leave 
was  granted  a  fortnight,  which 
he  determined  to  spend  in 
Dublin.  In  due  course  his 
relief  arrived,  and  after  hand- 
ing over  he  found  himself 
free  from  all  responsibility 
for  the  first  time  for  many 
months. 


At  this  period  the  Govern- 
ment and  the  Irish  railwaymen 
were  enacting  a  comic  opera 
worthy  of  Gilbert  and  Sullivan 
at  their  best,  the  Government 
paying  the  railway  companies 
a  huge  subsidy,  the  greater 
part  of  which  found  its  way 
into  the  railwaymen's  pockets 
in  the  form  of  enormous  wages, 
while  the  men  refused  to  carry 
any  armed  forces  of  the  Crown  ; 
and  the  public,  who,  of  course, 


18 


Tales  of  the  R.I.G. 


indirectly  paid  the  subsidy, 
looked  on  helplessly. 

In  order  to  get  a  passenger 
train  Blake  had  to  motor  thirty- 
two  miles  to  a  station  in  the 
next  county,  where,  as  yet,  no 
armed  forces  had  tried  to  travel. 
While  waiting  here  a  green 
country  boy  asked  him  some 
trivial  question,  and  with  little 
difficulty  Blake  led  him  on  to 
tell  his  whole  history. 

In  spite  of  a  Sinn  Fein  edict 
to  the  contrary,  many  young 
men,  who  could  find  no  work 
in  Ireland,  or  who  wished  to 
avoid  service  in  the  I.E.A., 
were  at  this  time  contriving 
to  emigrate  to  the  States  by 
crossing  to  England  and  sail- 
ing from  Southampton.  In 
order  to  defeat  this,  Sinn  Fein 
agents  were  in  the  habit  of 
frequenting  the  termini  in  Dub- 
lin for  the  purpose  of  getting 
in  touch  with  these  would-be 
emigrants  and  forcing  them  to 
return  home. 

This  youth,  who  came  from 
the  Ballyrick  district,  and  had 
never  been  in  a  train  in  his 
life,  told  Blake  that  a  brother 
in  the  States  had  sent  him  his 
passage,  and  that  he  was  due 
to  sail  from  Southampton  in 
a  few  days'  time,  but  had  to 
go  to  the  American  Consul  in 
Dublin  in  order  that  his  pass- 
port might  be  vise"d,  and  asked 
Blake  where  the  consul's  office 
was. 

Blake  warned  him  not  to 
tell  any  one  he  met  on  his 
journey  that  he  was  going  to 
America,  or  he  would  surely 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Sinn 
Fein  police,  and  thought  no 
more  about  the  matter. 


When  the  train  reached  a 
junction  after  about  an  hour 
and  a  half's  run,  there  was 
considerable  delay  while  a  large 
party  of  Auxiliary  Cadets 
searched  the  train,  and  eventu- 
ally arrested  a  police  sergeant, 
whom  they  removed  after  a 
desperate  struggle  to  a  waiting 
motor.  Blake  was  reading  at 
the  time,  and  did  not  think 
anything  was  wrong  until  he 
saw  the  sergeant  being  dragged 
out  of  the  station.  It  then 
occurred  to  him  that,  though 
he  thought  he  knew  every 
Cadet  in  the  West  by  sight, 
yet  he  failed  to  recognise  any 
of  the  search-party.  However, 
it  was  useless  to  interfere,  as 
he  was  alone  and  unarmed. 

Blake  stayed  at  a  hotel  near 
Stephen's  Green,  and  for  the 
first  part  of  the  night,  so  silent 
and  empty  were  the  streets, 
that  Dublin  might  have  been  a 
city  of  the  dead.  However, 
about  2  A.M.,  a  miniature  battle 
broke  out  in  some  near  quarter, 
and  for  hours  rifle-fife  and  the 
explosions  of  bombs  continued, 
varied  at  times  by  bursts  of 
machine-gun  fire. 

The  following  morning  after 
breakfast  he  set  out  to  see  a 
high  official  in  the  Castle,  a 
friend  of  his  father's,  and  also 
to  report  at  the  E.I.C.  Head- 
quarters there.  While  walking 
along  Grafton  Street  shots  sud- 
denly rang  out  at  each  end, 
and  at  once  the  crowd  tried  to 
escape  down  several  by-streets, 
only  to  be  held  up  by  the 
Cadets  at  every  point ;  and  it 
was  not  until  two  hours  after- 
wards, when  the  Cadets  had 
satisfied  themselves  that  the 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


19 


men  they  wanted  were  not 
there,  that  Blake  was  free  to 
proceed  to  the  Castle. 

The  streets  appeared  much 
the  same  as  usual,  but  the  Castle 
was  greatly  changed  from  peace 
times.  The  entrance  gates  were 
heavily  barred;  barbed  wire, 
steel  shutters,  and  sandbags 
in  evidence  everywhere.  Out- 
side, a  strong  party  of  Dublin 
Metropolitan  Police  and  Mili- 
tary Foot  Police.  Inside,  a 
strong  guard  of  infantry  in 
steel  helmets,  while  a  tank  and 
two  armoured  cars  were  stand- 
ing by  ready  to  go  into  action. 

As  nobody  was  allowed  to 
enter  the  Castle  without  a  pass, 
Blake  had  to  get  a  friend  from 
the  headquarters  of  the  E.I.C. 
to  identify  him  before  he  could 
gain  admission,  and  he  learnt 
from  this  friend  that  the  party 
of  Auxiliaries  he  had  seen  the 
previous  day  arresting  the  police 
sergeant  at  the  junction  were 
in  reality  a  flying  column  of 
Volunteers,  who  had  managed 
to  smuggle  the  Cadets'  uni- 
forms into  the  country  from 
England. 

Blake  found  that  most  of  the 
officials  in  the  Castle  were  vir- 
tually prisoners  there,  and  in 
order  to  keep  their  figures 
down  had  improvised  a  gravel 
tennis-court  and  also  a  squash 
racket-court. 

When  training  at  the  depot 
in  Dublin,  Blake  had  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  Colonel  Ma- 
honey,  who  had  retired  and 
lived  near  Kingstown  with  his 
only  daughter,  and  his  chief 
object  in  going  to  Dublin  was 
to  see  Miss  Mahoney  again. 
After  leaving  the  Castle  he  met 


her  by  appointment,  and  after 
they  had  lunched  and  been  to 
a  picture-house,  they  left  by 
tram  to  be  back  in  time  for 
tea  with  the  Colonel.  After 
the  tram  started  Blake  found 
that  he  had  an  hour  to  spare, 
and  got  out  at  Ballsbridge  to 
see  a  friend,  while  Miss  Ma- 
honey  went  on  alone. 

On  reaching  the  Mahoneys' 
house  Blake  learnt  that,  when 
Miss  Mahoney  got  out  at  Kings- 
town, she  had  been  followed  by 
four  young  men,  who  had  de- 
manded the  name  of  the  man 
she  had  travelled  in  the  tram 
with,  and  on  her  refusing  to 
disclose  Blake's  name,  they 
had  knocked  her  down  with 
the  butts  of  their  revolvers, 
and  left  her  there  partially 
stunned. 

The  following  day,  when  on 
her  way  to  meet  Blake  again 
in  Dublin,  her  tram  was  held 
up  by  Auxiliaries,  and  all  the 
men  on  it  carefully  searched 
for  arms  ;  but  before  the  Cadets 
boarded  the  tram,  Miss  Ma- 
honey saw  several  young  men 
pass  their  revolvers  to  girls 
sitting  next  to  them,  with  the 
result  that  the  Auxiliaries  found 
no  arms.  On  leaving  the  tram 
at  the  end  of  Kildare  Street, 
the  pockets  of  her  coat  feeling 
unusually  heavy,  she  put  her 
hands  into  them  and  found  a 
revolver  in  each.  At  the  same 
moment  two  men  overtook  her 
and  demanded  their  arms. 

When  he  had  been  in  Dublin 
four  days  Blake  had  to  go  to 
Broadstone  Station  to  inquire 
about  a  kit-bag  which  had  been 
lost  on  the  journey  to  Dublin. 
He  reached  the  station  about 


20 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[July 


a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the 
departure  of  the  train  for  the 
West,  and  passing  a  group  of 
young  men  on  the  platform, 
recognised  amongst  them  the 
youth  who  had  asked  him 
where  to  find  the  American 
consul. 

There  were  no  police  within 
eight,  and  it  was  useless  to 
interfere  single  -  handed,  but 
without  doubt  the  talkative 
youth  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  Sinn  Fein  Police,  who 
were  returning  him  to  his  home 
minus  his  passage-money  :  the 
group  consisted  of  four  de- 
jected-looking youths  and  three 
rough-looking  men,  obviously 
in  charge  of  the  others. 

When  his  leave  was  up  Blake 
left  for  the  South  by  an  express 
train,  changing  at  a  junction 
after  about  two  hours'  run. 
Here,  just  as  the  train  was  on 
the  point  of  starting,  an  armed 
party  of  the  Eoyal  Fencibles 
under  a  subaltern  marched  on 
to  the  platform  and  took  their 
seats  in  several  different  third- 
class  carriages,  the  officer  get- 
ting into  Blake's  carriage. 
There  was  a  considerable  de- 
lay, and  Blake  expected  that, 
as  usual,  the  guard  and  driver 
would  refuse  to  carry  armed 
soldiers,  but  to  his  surprise 
the  train  started  without  any 
incident. 

After  an  hour's  run,  the 
train  pulled  up  with  a  sudden 
jerk  in  a  cutting  just  outside 
a  station,  and  as  the  subaltern 
put  his  head  out  of  the  window 
to  ascertain  the  cause,  the  train 
was  raked  from  end  to  end  by 
heavy  rifle-fire,  and  the  young 
Bubaltern  collapsed  on  top  of 


Blake,  his  head  shattered  by 
a  dum-dum  bullet. 

Blake  threw  himself  flat  on 
the  floor  of  the  carriage  until 
the  fire  from  the  top  of  the 
cutting  slackened  owing  to  a 
Lewis  gun  opening  fire  from 
one  of  the  carriages  near  the 
engine.  Taking  the  dead  boy's 
revolver,  he  then  jumped  on 
to  the  line,  and  made  his  way 
towards  the  forward  carriages, 
where  the  soldiers  had  opened 
fire  with  their  rifles. 

Here  he  found  a  gallant  Lewis 
gunner,  badly  wounded  in  an 
arm  and  leg,  firing  his  gun  as 
fast  as  he  could  mount  the 
magazines,  and  so  preventing 
the  Volunteers  from  leaving 
their  cover  at  the  top  of  the 
bank  and  attacking  at  close 
quarters. 

So  hot  was  the  Lewis  gunner's 
fire  that  after  five  minutes  the 
Volunteers  broke  off  the  action 
and  simply  vanished.  Blake 
then  turned  his  attention  to 
the  wounded  civilians,  and 
though  he  had  grown  indifferent 
to  dreadful  sights  through  years 
of  war,  the  awful  condition  of 
the  dead  and  wounded  in  that 
train  made  him  physically  sick. 

The  majority  of  the  wounds 
were  from  flat-nosed  bullets, 
with  the  most  terrible  results. 
In  one  carriage  lay  a  young 
woman  in  a  pool  of  blood,  her 
chest  literally  blown  away  by 
one  of  these  devilish  bullets. 
In  another,  a  middle-aged  man 
was  screaming  like  a  mad  wild 
animal,  his  arm  and  shoulder 
shattered,  and  at  his  feet  lay 
an  old  countrywoman,  the  top 
of  her  head  blown  off. 

Very  few  of  the  soldiers  had 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


21 


been  wounded,  and  under 
Blake's  command  they  at  once 
started  off  in  pursuit,  only  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  Volun- 
teers disappearing  down  a  road 
on  bicycles. 

After  a  long  delay  the  train 
went  on,  and  in  order  to  try 
and  forget  the  awful  scenes  he 
had  just  witnessed,  Blake  en- 
deavoured to  read  two  English 
papers.  The  first  paper,  in  a 
long  leading  article,  called  for 
a  policy  of  conciliation  in  Ire- 
land, while  the  second  (a  three- 
penny edition  of  the  first)  re- 
counted at  great  length  a  speech 
made  the  previous  day  by  a 
famous  legal  politician  calling 
loudly  upon  the  Government 
to  withdraw  all  troops  from 
Ireland,  and  demanding  that 
the  E.I.C.  and  Auxiliary  Cadets 
should  be  severely  dealt  with 
for  their  brutal  reprisals  on 
innocent  people,  but  never  a 
word  about  the  savage  attacks 
on  these  same  E.I.C.  and  Cadets 
by  these  "  innocent  people,"  or 
a  single  thought  for  the  widows 
and  orphans  of  the  murdered 
policemen.  In  disgust  he  threw 
both  papers  out  of  the  carriage 
windows,  and  consigned  all  po- 
liticians to  the  bottomless  pit. 

On  arriving  at  Esker,  Blake 
found  that  his  chief  duty  was 
to  act  as  liaison  officer  between 
the  military  and  police,  and 
that  he  would  be  attached  to 
the  staff  of  the  G.O.C.  of  the 
district. 

He  quickly  realised  that  the 
bad  reports  of  the  state  of  the 
South  had  not  been  exaggerated, 
and  that  it  was  in  a  far  worse 
state  than  che  West.  Ambushes 
of  police  and  military,  attacks 


on  trains,  shootings  of  unarmed 
soldiers  and  police  in  the  streets 
at  all  hours  of  the  day  and 
night,  the  finding  of  dead  men 
riddled  with  bullets  in  every 
kind  of  place,  from  an  open 
field  to  an  empty  house,  and 
the  robbery  of  mails  occurred 
daily  with  monotonous  regu- 
larity ;  and  so  accustomed  had 
people  of  all  classes  become  to 
this  saturnalia  of  crime,  that 
they  thought  no  more  about 
the  murder  of  a  human  being 
than  the  usual  man  thinks  of 
killing  a  rat. 

Blake's  principal  work  con- 
sisted of  investigating  these 
crimes  in  company  with  police 
and  soldiers,  and  afterwards  in 
making  out  a  report  for  the 
General.  In  addition,  he  ac- 
companied the  General  when 
making  tours  through  the  dis- 
trict. 

One  morning  they  received 
news  of  a  terrible  ambush  of 
Cadets,  and  on  arriving  at  the 
scene  of  the  ambush  Blake 
found  the  dead  bodies  of  the 
Cadets  still  lying  on  the  road. 
All  their  equipment  and  per- 
sonal effects  had  been  stolen, 
and  their  faces  smashed  in 
with  an  axe.  Probably  in 
several  cases  this  barbarous 
mutilation  had  been  committed 
before  the  unfortunate  Cadets 
were  dead. 

Two  days  afterwards  the 
bodies  of  the  murdered  Cadets 
passed  through  Esker  en  route 
for  England.  All  shops  were 
closed,  and  great  crowds  col- 
lected in  the  streets.  Blake 
was  greatly  struck  by  the  dif- 
ferent attitudes  of  sections  of 
the  crowd,  some  taking  their 


22 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[July 


hats  off  with  every  mark  of 
reverence  and  sympathy  when 
the  coffins  passed,  while  others 
kept  their  hats  on  until  ordered 
by  the  officers  to  uncover,  and 
many  showed  plainly  by  their 
faces  that  they  were  in  full 
sympathy  with  the  murderers. 

Conditions  in  the  South  were 
now  rapidly  drifting  into  a  war 
of  extermination,  and  every 
morning  brought  fresh  reports 
of  men  shot  the  previous  night, 
either  in  bed  before  the  eyes 
of  their  relations,  or  else  against 
a  wall  outside  their  homes. 

One  evening  word  came  to 
headquarters  through  the  secret 
service  that  a  baker  in  an  out- 
lying village  was  to  be  shot 
that  night.  It  appeared  that 
the  baker,  a  moderate  Sinn 
Feiner,  had  been  chosen  by 
the  Inner  Circle  to  take  part 
in  one  of  their  nightly  "  execu- 
tions," and  had  refused.  So 
the  edict  had  gone  forth  that 
if  the  baker  would  not  commit 
murder,  he  should  be  murdered 
himself. 

The  General  at  once  sent 
Blake  with  a  party  of  soldiers 
to  try  and  save  the  baker's  life, 
but,  missing  their  way  in  the 
dark,  they  arrived  a  few  min- 
utes too  late.  They  found  the 
unfortunate  man  lying  on  his 
bed  shot  through  the  head, 
while  the  only  occupant  of  the 
house,  the  murdered  man's  sis- 
ter, sat  white-faced  by  the  bed- 
side moaning  and  wringing  her 
hands. 

They  could  get  nothing  out 
of  the  sister,  except  that  a 
partyTof  armed  and  masked 
men,  in  "  trench  coats "  as 
ever,  had  suddenly  burst  into 


the  house  and  insisted  that  her 
brother  should  accompany  them 
for  some  unknown  purpose, 
and  that  he  had  refused.  For 
a  time  they  argued  with  him, 
until  another  man  rushed  into 
the  house,  calling  out  to  them 
to  be  quick  as  the  soldiers  were 
near.  Whereupon  they  shot 
the  baker  as  he  lay  in  bed,  with 
the  sister  looking  on,  and  then 
left  the  house  hurriedly. 

There  seemed  nothing  to  be 
done,  and  Blake  was  on  the 
point  of  leaving  when  his  eye 
caught  a  piece  of  white  paper 
under  the  bed,  which  turned 
out  to  be  the  baker's  death- 
warrant  for  treason,  signed  by 
the  C.M.A.  of  the  I.E.A. 

On  his  return  Blake  handed 
the  death-warrant  to  the  In- 
telligence people,  who  returned 
it  shortly,  saying  that  they 
could  make  nothing  of  it.  After 
showing  it  to  the  General,  Blake 
put  the  warrant  away,  and 
thought  no  more  about  it. 

Some  weeks  afterwards,  ow- 
ing to  the  shooting  of  soldiers 
and  police  in  the  streets  after 
dark,  the  curfew  was  advanced 
an  hour.  As  a  result,  the 
number  of  curfew  prisoners 
greatly  increased — so  much  so 
on  the  first  night  that  there 
was  no  room  in  the  usual  de- 
tention quarters,  and  the  officer 
of  the  guard  was  obliged  to  use 
an  empty  office  for  the  over- 
flow. 

While  the  General  was  work- 
ing in  his  office  after  dinner, 
the  officer  of  the  guard  brought 
a  note  from  the  Mayor  of  the 
town,  who,  he  explained,  had 
been  found  on  the  streets  after 
curfew  hour  by  a  patrol,  and 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  B.I.  C. 


23 


was  now  a  prisoner  in  the  office 
below.  The  note  requested  a 
personal  interview  with  the 
G.O.C.,  and  stated  that  the 
matter  was  of  the  highest  im- 
portance. The  General  passed 
the  note  to  Blake,  who  was 
puzzled  by  the  familiarity  of 
the  writing,  but  unable  to  re- 
member where  he  had  seen  it 
before. 

After  some  hesitation  the 
General  decided  to  see  the 
Mayor,  who  was  brought  in 
by  the  officer  of  the  guard, 
and  left  alone  with  the  General 
and  Blake.  After  beating  about 
the  bush  for  some  time,  the 
Mayor  asked  that  he  might  be 
kept  under  arrest  and,  if  pos- 
sible, deported  by  sea  to  Eng- 
land, as  he  was  in  great  danger 
of  assassination,  but  would  give 
no  reason  for  the  danger,  only 
stating  that  he  had  received 
threatening  letters. 

The  General  explained  that 
under  no  circumstances  would 
he  allow  the  Mayor  to  be  de- 
tained under  arrest  or  deported, 
unless  he  could  show  sufficient 
reasons.  The  Mayor  replied 
that  he  considered  the  threaten- 
ing letters  an  ample  justifica- 
tion for  his  request ;  he  had 
not  brought  the  letters  with 
him,  but  that  if  allowed  to  go 
home  with  a  guard  he  would 
fetch  them.  But  the  General, 
being  determined  to  get  all  the 
information  he  could  out  of  the 
man,  and  knowing  that  once 
he  had  granted  his  request  it 
would  be  impossible  to  get 
anything  out  of  him,  refused. 

By  now  Blake  had  identified 
the  Mayor's  handwriting  with 
the  writing  on  the  baker's 


death-warrant,  and  getting  out 
the  latter,  placed  the  two  papers 
in  front  of  the  General,  who 
at  once  taxed  the  Mayor  with 
being  the  head  of  the  Inner 
Circle  in  Esker.  This  he  denied, 
but  on  being  confronted  with 
the  two  papers,  broke  down 
and  made  a  complete  confes- 
sion. 

It  appeared  that  for  a  long 
time  past  he  had  been  the 
leader  of  Sinn  rein  in  that  dis- 
trict, and  though  himself  a 
moderate  man,  he  had  been 
unable  to  control  the  wild  men, 
who  had  forced  him,  as  head 
of  the  Inner  Circle,  to  sign  the 
death-warrants  of  the  men  con- 
demned to  be  "  executed,"  or, 
in  other  words,  the  men  they 
wished  out  of  the  way.  After 
a  time,  being  a  very  religious 
man,  his  conscience  had  re- 
belled against  wholesale  mur- 
der, and  he  had  refused  to  sign 
any  more  death-warrants. 

Whereupon  the  wild  men, 
being  afraid  that  the  Mayor 
might  give  them  away,  had 
signed  his  death-warrant  them- 
selves, and  that  very  morning 
he  had  received  by  post  a 
warning  to  prepare  for  death. 

The  General  was  now  quite 
satisfied  to  order  his  arrest 
and  deportation  forthwith  ;  but 
the  Mayor  asked  that  he  should 
be  allowed  to  go  home  to  say 
good-bye  to  his  family,  and 
that  he  might  be  arrested  in 
his  own  house  at  some  early 
hour  in  the  morning.  It  was 
now  nearly  midnight,  and  the 
General,  after  granting  his  re- 
quest, arranged  that  a  patrol 
should  arrest  him  at  4  A.M. 

At   4   A.M.    to   the   minute 


24 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[July 


Blake  drove  up  to  the  Mayor's 
house  in  a  lorry  with  an  officer 
and  fifteen  men,  but  at  once 
saw  that  something  was  wrong. 
Instead  of  the  house  being  in 
complete  darkness,  most  of  the 
windows  were  lit  up,  and  the 
loud  wails  of  women  could  be 
heard  in  an  upstairs  room. 

Leaving  the  officer  to  post 
sentries  at  the  front  and  back 
of  the  house,  Blake  knocked 
at  the  door,  which  was  opened 
after  some  delay  by  a  woman, 
who,  on  seeing  a  police  officer, 
tried  to  slam  the  door  in  his 
face.  Blake,  however,  managed 
to  slip  into  the  hall,  and  asked 
the  woman  what  was  wrong, 
but  she  ran  upstairs,  calling 
out  to  some  one  above  that 
the  police  had  returned. 

On  the  first  landing  the 
woman  was  joined  by  another 
woman  and  a  man,  and  after 
a  lot  of  trouble  Blake  at  last 
got  out  of  them  that  an  hour 
previously  a  party  of  tall  men 
in  black  mackintoshes,  with  soft 
hats  pulled  over  their  eyes, 
had  gained  admittance  to  the 
house,  and  made  their  way 
straight  to  the  Mayor's  bed- 
room, where  they  found  him 
kneeling  down  by  his  bed  pray- 
ing. After  pushing  the  Mayor's 
wife  out  of  the  room  they  shot 
him,  threw  his  body  on  the 
bed,  and  rushed  out  of  the 
house. 

Blake  asked  to  be  shown  the 
Mayor's  body,  and  the  man  led 
him  to  a  bedroom  at  the  back 
and  opened  the  door.  After 


making  certain  that  the  dead 
man  was  the  Mayor,  Blake  left 
and  drove  straight  back  to  the 
General. 

That  day  the  town  was 
seething  with  excitement,  and 
it  was  openly  stated  by  many 
men  that  the  Mayor  had  been 
murdered  by  the  police. 

Shortly  afterwards  a  public 
inquiry  was  held,  and  it  was 
clearly  proved  that  every  police- 
man in  the  town  could  be  satis- 
factorily accounted  for  during 
the  night  of  the  murder,  and, 
moreover,  that  every  round  of 
rifle  and  revolver  ammunition 
could  also  be  accounted  for. 
However,  this  did  not  suit  the 
Sinn  Feiners,  and  a  verdict  of 
"guilty"  was  brought  in  against 
the  authorities,  though  there 
can  be  no  possible  doubt  in 
any  unbiassed  mind  that  the 
Mayor  of  Esker  was  murdered 
either  by,  or  by  the  orders  of, 
the  Inner  Circle. 

When  he  went  home,  after 
his  interview  with  the  G.O.C., 
the  natural  assumption  was 
that  he  had  been  giving  in- 
formation, and  the  Inner  Circle 
determined  that  he  should  give 
no  more.  Whether  they  knew 
that  he  was  to  be  arrested  and 
deported  at  4  A.M.,  and  deliber- 
ately forestalled  the  arrest,  or 
whether  they  merely  knew  that 
he  was  at  headquarters,  and 
were  waiting  to  murder  him 
on  the  first  favourable  oppor- 
tunity, is  not  clear,  and  does 
not  affect  the  question  of  the 
guilt  of  the  murder. 


1921.] 


25 


BLUE  MOUNTAINS. 


IF  India  wears  on  her  brow 
the  crown  of  the  Himalayan 
snows,  she  adorns  her  toe  with 
the  jewel  of  the  Nilgiris. 

These  Blue  mountains,  for 
such  their  name  implies,  are 
situated  well  down  towards 
the  toe  of  the  Great  Peninsula. 
They  are  so  called  for  the  very 
simple  reason  that,  like  most 
other  mountain  ranges,  they 
look  blue  when  viewed  from  a 
distance.  But  whereas  many 
a  hill  range  is  a  great  deal  less 
lovely  on  nearer  approach,  the 
Nilgiris  borrow  their  beauty 
from  no  distance. 

The  invitation  which  they 
extend  to  the  distant  beholder 
is,  in  their  case,  a  genuine  one. 
He  who  accepts  it  will  find  in 
the  bosoms  of  these  beautiful 
hills  something  that  he  will 
not  find  in  the  vast  ranges  of 
the  Himalayas.  He  will  carry 
away  recollections,  not  so  much 
of  vastness  nor  of  grandeur, 
but  of  quiet  homely  things ; 
and  in  my  own  case  these  will 
be  the  abundant  song  of  black- 
birds, the  sound  of  running 
waters,  and  the  swelling  green 
hills  with  the  mists  that  keep 
them  green. 

The  Nilgiris  form  a  plateau 
only  of  about  twenty  miles  by 
thirty-five,  with  an  average 
height  of  about  6500  feet.  The 
highest  peak  scarcely  touches 
9000  feet.  But  the  top  of  this 
tableland  does  not  possess 


throughout  its  whole  extent 
one  square  mile  of  flat  ground. 
It  swells  into  a  thousand  little 
hills,  all  holding  up  their  round 
green  heads  to  catch  the  two 
monsoons  that  come  volleying 
in  from  south-west  and  north- 
east. And  it  is  these  monsoons 
that  give  these  hills  their  ver- 
dure and  their  abundance  of 
perennial  streams.  On  the 
western  and  south  -  western 
edges  of  the  plateau  you  are 
prevented  from  tumbling  off 
it  on  to  the  plains  below  by 
a  higher  range,  or  rim,  called 
the  Kundahs.  The  Kundahs 
are  what  one  might  call  a 
one-sided  range.  They  present 
a  steep  glacis  of  grassy  slopes 
to  the  plateau,  but  having 
surmounted  this  you  find  there 
is  no  other  side  to  it.  It  sinks 
to  the  plains  some  6000  feet 
below  in  a  fagade  of  almost 
sheer  precipices.  These  peaks 
and  precipices  possess  an  ex- 
traordinary beauty  of  their 
own,  and  a  grandeur  proper 
to  a  much  vaster  type  of 
scenery.  Elsewhere  the  plateau 
breaks  away  to  the  plains  in 
steep  jungle-clad  slopes  and 
gorges,  which  give  one  the  most 
beautiful  peeps  on  to  the  misty 
flatnesses  of  Coimbatore  and 
the  rugged  plateau  of  Mysore. 
The  essential  beauty  of  the 
Nilgiris,  however,  lies  in  the 
heart  of  the  plateau,  with  its 
rolling  green  downs  starred 


26 


Blue  Mountains. 


[July 


with  the  tiny  blue  gentian, 
and  nnmarred  with  eucalyptus 
plantations  or  tea-gardens,  and 
it  is  here  that  you  can  gallop 
for  miles,  once  your  horse 
has  his  7000  feet  wind,  and 
with  beat  of  hoof  no  more 
audible  than  that  on  English 
turf. 

Such  of  our  countrymen  as 
live  in  any  country  but  their 
own  have  a  liking  for  trying 
to  find,  or  to  force,  a  resem- 
blance between  their  own  and 
the  land  of  their  adoption. 
Thus  one  may  hear  the  Nilgiris 
likened  to  Dartmoor  by  some, 
to  the  Yorkshire  moors  by 
others,  and  to  the  hills  that 
back  the  French  Eiviera,  or  to 
the  Cotswolds  with  a  cipher 
added  to  all  the  Cotswold 
heights.  It  is  a  pleasing  but 
a  baffling  habit,  for  on  rounding 
a  corner  your  comparison  may 
be  all  sent  astray  by  the  sight 


of  a  whole  mountain  slope 
turned  into  a  sheet  of  lavender 
by  the  Strobilanthes]  Icunthi- 
anus,  or  by  a  stream-bed  thickly 
grown  with  Arum  lilies,  or  a 
line  of  tree-ferns  stretching  up 
a  ravine. 

For  myself,  I  can  force  a 
certain  resemblance  to  the  roll- 
ing hills  of  Peeblesshire  or 
Selkirkshire,  with  the  Eildons, 
several  Tintos,  and  several 
Tweeds.  And  when  the  mists 
are  abroad,  this  resemblance 
sometimes  forces  itself  on  me. 

But  when  riding  far  out  on 
the  downs  on  a  typical  Nilgiri 
summer  day — to  wit,  one  with 
a  tearing  wind  and  a  fine 
driving  rain — it  only  wants 
the  dull  roar  of  surf  somewhere 
far  below  to  carry  one  straight 
to  the  Sussex  downs  with  a 
south  -  westerly  summer  gale 
blowing,  and  the  Channel  lash- 
ing at  the  feet  of  white  cliffs. 


n. 


And  yet  how  long  did  these 
goodly  hills  invite  our  swelter- 
ing countrymen  to  come  up 
and  make  their  better  acquaint- 
ance f  Perhaps  it  is  the  case 
with  the  best  hills  as  with  the 
best  people.  Both  want  more 
knowing  than  the  second  best. 
Europeans  entered  the  Nilgiris 
very  early  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  but  found  them  little 
to  their  liking.  The  first  British 
explorers  came  nearly  200  years 
later  ;  but  instead  of  bursting 
into  raptures  over  such  a  sana- 
torium and  such  a  refuge  from 
the  heat  of  the  plains,  they 


found  my  beloved  Nilgiris  to 
be  "  extremely  cold  and  un- 
healthful  from  continual  cover- 
ing of  mists  and  clouds."  They 
departed  whence  they  came, 
and  the  hills  plunged  again 
in  thought.  In  those  days, 
however,  British  India  com- 
prised few,  if  any,  mountain 
ranges  over  the  fever  altitude, 
and  hills  were  looked  on  as  the 
haunt  of  fever,  not  as  a  refuge 
from  it.  Sick  men  then  took 
the  sea-voyage  to  South  Africa 
or  Australia  to  get  well. 

But  at  long  last  the  Nilgiris 
having  proved  beyond  all  pos- 


1921.] 


Blue  Mountains. 


27 


sible  question,  by  insisting  on 
an  introduction  lasting  some 
three  centuries,  that  they  were 
quite  the  best  kind  of  hills, 
admitted  into  their  bosom  one 
John  Sullivan.  We  find  him 
really  letting  himself  go  over 
his  experiences,  describing  how 
water  froze  at  night  in  his 
basin  ;  how  he  walked  by  day 
without  feeling  the  sun  ;  and 
much  more  about  wild  straw- 
berries, raspberries,  roses,  mari- 
golds, and  balsams.  He  appa- 
rently either  lacked  time  or 
paper  to  include  in  his  in- 
ventory a  mention  of  the  Nil- 
giri  blackbird,  of  the  running 
waters,  and  of  the  crimson 
rhododendrons,  possibly  be- 
cause the  first  of  the  three 
were  not  in  song,  and  the  last 
not  in  blossom.  From  that  day 
the  vogue  of  the  Nilgiris  grew, 
and  now,  just  one  hundred 
years  later,  we  have  our 
Ootacamund  (she  who  some- 
how just  fails  of  being  easily 
first  amongst  all  Indian  hill 
stations),  and  a  railway  there- 
to which  eats  up  most  of 
its  earnings  in  extricating 
itself  from  the  steep  places 
it  is  always  sliding  into. 
And  we  have  the  Ootacamund 
Hunt  with  its  button  and  green 
collar,  and  our  Game  Associa- 
tion laws,  municipalities,  roads, 
and  tolls.  Have  we  not  also 
our  Nilgiri  bard  who  sometimes 
sings  in  '  Punch  '  ?  To  save 
the  indigenous  woods  the 
eucalyptus  and  wattle  have 
been  introduced,  and  have 


much  changed,  for  the  worse, 
portions  of  the  plateau.  Neither 
tree  will  ever  look  to  the  manner 
born  or  appear  as  anything  but 
bad  patches  on  a  fair  garment. 
Indeed,  the  Nilgiris  have  been 
so  civilised,  opened  up,  and 
developed,  that  we  may  be 
pardoned  a  sigh  sometimes  and 
a  wish  that  we  could  have  these 
hills  as  they  were  in  John 
Sullivan's  day,  when  the  world 
was  younger,  and  when  it  still 
wondered  at  water  freezing  in 
its  basin,  when  bison  still 
roamed  on  the  downs,  and  the 
wild  goat  (or  Nilgiri  ibex)  was 
less  scarce  and  inaccessible  than 
he  now  is.  Yet  it  is  one  of 
the  greatest  charms  of  these 
hills  that,  with  all  their  civilisa- 
tion, they  yet  preserve  toler- 
ably spacious  corners  of  in- 
comparable beauty  and  wild- 
ness. 

Happy  are  the  Nilgiris  in 
that  they  have  little  or  no 
history.  Ever  have  they  let 
the  legions  thunder  past.  Nor 
were  the  legions  inclined  to 
pierce  the  triple  line  of  defence 
— malarial  forest,  river,  and 
frowning  cliffs — in  order  to 
gain  a  plateau  which  offered 
neither  booty  nor  strategical 
position.  The  crumbling  re- 
mains of  two  jungle-grown  forts 
perched  on  rocky  promontories 
are  said  to  represent  the  extent 
of  the  hold  which  the  Mysore 
kings  had  on  the  plateau,  until 
Arthur  Wellesley  caused  it  to 
pass  into  the  possession  of 
John  Company. 


28 


Blue  Mountains. 


[July 


nr. 


Now  what  kind  of  man  do 
these  hills  breed  ?  Perhaps 
they  are  a  little  disappointing 
here.  But  the  Todas  are  de- 
cidedly the  least  uninteresting 
of  the  three  races  peculiar  to 
the  plateau.  The  Occidental 
will  ever  be  delving  into  the 
recondite.  And  the  Toda 
puzzles  and  interests  the  Occi- 
dental because  the  Toda's  origin 
is  undiscoverable.  All  that  is 
known  is  that  he  has  not  always 
belonged  here. 

He  interests  me  because  he 
is  a  man  living  amongst  game, 
suffering  in  property  from  game, 
yet  taking  no  interest  in  game. 
So  far  as  I  know,  he  possesses 
no  instinct  for  the  chase.  He 
is  neither  shikari  nor  poacher, 
and  he  owns  and  desires  to 
own  no  weapon  but  a  grazier's 
staff.  He  is  a  hairy  handsome 
fellow,  profoundly  impressed 
with  his  own  superiority  over 
all  other  men,  and  possessing 
the  sublime  dignity  of  com- 
plete inertia.  He  is  not  in 
the  least  concerned  as  to  who 
he  is  or  from  what  stock 
descended,  but  only  with  his 
wild-eyed  buffaloes  and  their 
produce.  He  is  a  grazier  pure 
and  simple,  and  in  any  picture 
of  the  Nilgiris  a  Toda  is  sure 
to  be  represented  as  standing 
in  the  foreground,  staff  in 
hand,  and  sedulously  watching 
his  herds.  But  this  is  a  mis- 
representation. His  normal 
posture  is  recumbent,  eyes 
elosed ;  although  I  once  saw 
a  Toda  more  or  less  on  end. 


To  be  exact,  he  was  scratching 
his  back  against  a  post  and 
whittling  a  stick.  But  he  was 
quite  an  exceptionally  brisk 
fellow. 

For  his  dwelling,  which  is 
like  the  tilt  of  a  waggon  set 
on  the  ground,  possessing  one 
tiny  door  and  no  other  orifice 
whatever,  the  Toda  chooses 
the  most  delightful  sites.  Some 
little  green  plot  of  turf  is 
what  he  likes,  in  a  glade,  a 
stream  running  past  his  door, 
with  the  rolling  grazing  lands 
all  round  and  a  view  of  distant 
peaks. 

These  are  just  the  places  I 
like  to  pitch  my  tent  in,  and 
there  are  not  too  many  of 
them,  but  a  Toda  is  usually 
there  first. 

A  swarm  of  merry  children 
are  always  playing  in  the  sun  ; 
and  Mrs  Toda  may  be  seen 
curling  her  well-buttered  locks 
round  a  stick  which  she  keeps 
for  the  purpose. 

All  seems  to  be  well.  Yet 
it  is  difficult  to  conceive  an 
arrangement  less  likely  to  en- 
sure domestic  bliss  than  that 
by  which  a  woman  wives  seve- 
ral brothers,  and  is  in  addition 
permitted  an  officially  recog- 
nised lover  ;  nor  one  by  which 
female  babies  are,  or  rather 
were  (for  the  practice  is  now 
said  to  have  ceased),  placed  in 
the  entrances  to  the  buffalo- 
pens,  to  be  trampled  to  death 
as  the  beasts  came  out  in  the 
morning.  The  Nilgiri  gazetteer 
who  tells  you  all  about  the 


1921.] 


Blue  Mountains. 


Toda,  from  birth  to  death, 
opines  that  with  the  preser- 
vation of  female  infants, 
the  practice  of  polyandry 
will  die  out ;  and  notes  that 
two  Toda  brothers  are  known 
to  possess  two  wives  (in  com- 
mon). 

The  gazetteer  continues  with- 
out a  pause  in  its  stately 
cadences  :  "  On  rising  in  the 
morning  the  men  salute  the 
sun  with  a  quaint  gesture, 
putting  the  thumb  to  the  nose 
in  a  manner  similar  to  the 
English  boy's  token  of  de- 
rision." After  seeing  him 
through  the  routine  of  the 
day,  the  gazetteer,  without  a 
smile,  puts  the  Toda  to  bed, 
and  we  learn  that  his  pen- 
ultimate act  before  dowsing 
his  lamp  is  again  to  make  a 
long  nose  at  it. 

Writers  of  gazetteers  are  not 
allowed  any  sort  of  levity  in 
their  labours  ;  but  I  think  the 
author  of  this  one  must  have 
had  a  smile  concealed  up  his 
sleeve  somewhere. 

I  have  not  myself,  owing  to 
the  language  bar,  much  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  the 


Toda.  To  me  he  is  a  pleasing 
portion  of  the  Nilgiri  land- 
scape, and  so  are  his  buffaloes. 
But  while  admiring  the  man, 
it  is  best  to  keep  a  corner 
of  one  eye  on  the  beast,  who 
hates  strangers,  and  is  not 
slow  in  attacking  them. 

The  Toda's  religion  is  a  mad 
medley  of  buffaloes,  dairies, 
spirits,  precipices,  peaks,  and 
leeches.  The  souls  of  good 
Todas,  with  those  of  a  selected 
buffalo  or  two,  which  are  killed 
at  his  funeral,  are  believed  to 
leap  from  a  certain  famous 
peak  in  the  Nilgiris,  and  pass 
into  an  underworld.  Here  a 
grazier's  life  is  led,  until  by 
much  herding  of  spirit  beeves, 
the  deceased's  lower  legs  are 
worn  away  to  the  knee.  Be- 
incarnation  then  sets  in,  and 
he  becomes  once  more  a  flesh  - 
and-blood  Toda  with  complete 
legs. 

The  bad  Toda  after  death 
suffers  something  lingering  with 
leeches  in  it.  Any  one  who 
has  had  a  leech  upon  his 
legs  will  appreciate  him  as  a 
first-class  ingredient  in  any 
kind  of  hell  whatever. 


IV. 


Anthony  the  shikari  lives 
in  a  shimmy  sort  of  suburb  of 
Ootacamund,  spelt  phonetic- 
ally "  Candle."  Amongst  his 
ancestry  he  numbers  an  Irish 
soldier,  who,  marrying  a  lady 
of  the  country,  begat  progeny 
who  were  in  colour  what  wags 
call  cafe"  au  lait.  The  next 
generation  was  more  cafe  and 


less  lait ;  and  the  next,  in 
which  I  place  Anthony,  was 
noire,  but  still  Eoman  Catholic 
and  wearing  a  semblance  of 
European  dress.  Anthony's 
children,  unless  the  E.G.  priest 
keeps  a  tight  hand  on  them, 
will  probably  stray  into  another 
fold  where  they  wear  caste- 
marks  and  chew  betel-nut. 


30 


Blue  Mountains. 


[July 


Anthony  himself,  garbed  in 
clothes  that  no  scarecrow  would 
be  seen  in  on  a  rainy  week-day, 
looks  scarcely  a  promising  com- 
panion for  the  chase.  He  has  a 
tartan  eye  —  Stewart  tartan 
(dress,  not  hunting) — and  looks 
a  very  decayed  sort  of  fellow. 
I  own  I  took  him  with  mis- 
givings. Yet,  none  better  offer- 
ing and  several  worse,  he  be- 
came mine  for  better  or  for 
worse,  to  hold  and  to  have, 
for  the  daily  stipend  of  one 
shilling  and  fourpence,  a  blan- 
ket, and  "  what  bukshish  mas- 
ter liking  giving."  Part  and 
parcel  of  Anthony  was  bis 
gun-bearer,  John  Anthony,  an 
unpromising-looking  youth  with 
the  legs  of  a  Watteau  shep- 
herdess. Yet  both  turned  out 
good  steady  fellows,  with  mod- 
erate eyesight  and  a  good 
knowledge  of  the  country.  I 
might  have  gone  farther  and 
fared  worse.  Shikari  Anthony 
had  been  in  the  wars,  for, 
early  in  our  acquaintance,  he 
showed  me  a  horribly-mauled 
shoulder,  that  had  once  formed 
a  nice  mouthful  for  a  tiger. 
Luckily  it  had  been  a  case  of 
just  one  scrunch  and  away. 
Anthony's  command  of  the  lan- 
guage was  not  great,  but  I 
gathered  that  it  was  the  old 
tale — not  a  very  common  one, 
I  hope — of  a  wounded  tiger 
and  of  a  so-called  sportsman 
sending  the  shikari  into  covert 
"  just  to  move  him." 

The  three  of  us  forgathered 
on  a  glorious  December  morn- 


ing. It  had  rained  almost 
continually  for  nearly  three 
months,  and  sky  and  earth  had 
been  washed  into  a  crystal 
clearness.  There  were  only 
two  blots  on  the  landscape. 
They  were  my  two  frowzy 
Anthonys.  We  were  bound 
over  the  hills  and  far  away — 
or,  to  be  more  exact,  to  the 
forest  bungalow  of  Avalanche 
which  nestles  under  the  Kun- 
dahs,  some  twelve  miles  dis- 
tant from  Ootacamund.  From 
here  we  were  to  push  off  into 
the  Kundahs  themselves.  Oar 
objective  was  chiefly  what  is 
wrongly  called  the  Nilgiri  ibex, 
but  also  air,  exercise,  and 
whatever  other  shootable  mam- 
mals came  our  way. 

As  he  is  known  as  Nilgiri 
ibex,  I  will  call  him  so,  but 
except  that  both  are  wild 
goat,  he  is  no  relation  whatever 
to  the  true  ibex,  and  bears  no 
resemblance  to  him.  He  has 
a  Himalayan  connection  called 
the  tahr.  Nor  is  he  peculiar 
to  the  Nilgiris,  being  found 
generally  throughout  the  hill- 
ranges  of  Southern  India.  The 
shootable  male  is  termed  a 
saddle-back,  for  he  carries  a 
whitish  saddle-like  stain  on  his 
back.  The  unshootable  male 
is  called  a  brown  buck.  Scien- 
tifically the  Nilgiri  ibex  is 
Hemitragus  hylocrius.  With  the 
exception  of  an  Abyssinian 
ibex,  he  is  the  only  goat  living 
south  of  the  north  temperate 
zone.  At  least,  so  says  the 
gazetteer. 


1921.] 


Blue  Mountains. 


31 


V. 


A  string  of  pack-ponies  had 
clattered  off  about  an  hour 
before  we  did,  and  they  carried 
supplies  for  man  and  beast  for 
ten  days.  The  Kundahs  at 
this  time  of  year  are  totally 
devoid  of  man  or  habitation. 
There  is  plenty  of  grass  to  eat, 
but  nothing  more,  and  every- 
thing has  to  be  carried  with 
you. 

Now  twelve  miles  and  the 
whole  of  a  glorious  day  to  do 
it  in,  and  that  day  the  first  of  a 
long-delayed  holiday,  is  but  a 
step.  The  Kundahs,  standing 
out  sharp  and  clear,  kept  beck- 
oning us.  Distant  mountains 
long  looked  at  and  much  longed 
for  are  full  of  infinite  charms 
and  possibilities. 

At  the  ninth  mile  I  halted 
and  ate  a  little  ambrosia, 
which  on  a  less  happy  day 
would  probably  have  only  been 
sandwiches.  I  drank  from  what 
appeared  to  be  a  clear  spring 
of  water,  but  to-day  it  proved 
to  be  nectar.  What  the  gods 
would  have  termed  tobacco 
had  they  known  of  it,  I  do 
not  know,  but  certainly  some- 
thing better  sounding  than 
tobacco.  After  a  pipe  of  this, 
smoked  under  a  bower  of  double 
pink  roses,  and  a  little  drowsy 
pretence  at  reading,  we  fared 
onwards,  and  crossed  one  of 
my  several  Tweeds,  called  the 
Emerald  river,  and  looked  at 
the  trout  lying  under  the  bridge, 
unconscious  of  the  years  of 
endeavour  which  had  ended  in 


placing  them  there  and  in  other 
Nilgiri  streams. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we 
crossed  the  Avalanche  stream  ; 

and  here  M ,  who  had  been 

travelling  several  days  to  reach 
these  delectable  hills,  came 
bumping  along  in  a  motor  and 
joined  me. 

Avalanche  Forest  bungalow, 
standing  retired  within  a  glade, 
received  us  with  tea  on  the 
table,  a  roaring  log-fire  on  the 
hearth,  and  frescoes  of  trout 
and  some  antlers  on  its  wooden 
walls. 

There  was  yet  daylight,  there 
were  also  some  very  snipey- 
looking  bogs  close-handy,  and 
there  were  guns.  So  for  an 
hour  we  tramped  the  bogs,  and 
found  them  sparsely  tenanted 
by  a  strong  silent  variety  of 
snipe,  fond  of  zooming,  without 
a  squawk,  out  of  the  bog,  and 
side-slipping  into  the  nearest 
shola,  or  wooded  ravine.  Had 
our  luck  been  in,  or  had  there 
been  more  daylight,  we  might 
have  seen  woodcock. 

As  the  fluted  cliffs  that 
overhang  the  bungalow  frowned 
us  good  night,  and  the  last 
jungle  cock  of  many  round  us 
ceased  crowing,  we  had  just 
shot  enough  for  dinner.  And 
a  sleepy  dinner  it  was.  We 
burbled  a  few  plans  for  next 
day,  and  fell  asleep  by  the 
fire  till  bedtime.  The  next 
thing  that  happened  was  being 
called  by  candle-light  next 
morning. 


32 


Blue  Mountains, 


[July 


VI. 


Yes,  on  the  whole,  the  early 
rise  and  the  long  climb  in 
the  dark  were  worth  it.  I  knew 
this  as  after  mounting  from 
7000  feet  to  9000  feet  I  rested 
under  the  lee  of  a  rock,  and 
watched  the  dawn  come  and 
felt  the  first  warmth  of  the 
sun.  Only  so  does  one  capture 
the  first  fine  careless  rapture 
of  the  day.  Nothing  in  the 
twenty-four  hours  quite  equals 
it,  not  even  the  end  of  the  day 
when  the  cooling  earth  gives 
out  her  goodliest  scents,  and 
the  shadows  creep  out  of  the 
dimples  in  the  hills  and  spread 
abroad,  and  the  insect  world 
sets  up  its  thousand  quiet 
voices  in  the  thicket.  That, 
too,  is  rapture,  but  it  lacks  the 
carelessness  of  dawn. 

Above  us  were  a  few  hun- 
dred feet  more  of  steep  grass 
slope  breaking  at  the  summit 
into  rocks  and  cliff.  Below 
us  the  green  spurs  of  the 
Kundahs  reached  their  long 
fingers  steeply  down  to  the 
plateau.  Between  each  pair 
of  spurs  a  shola  or  wooded 
ravine,  of  close-set  trees  show- 
ing every  tint  of  green,  with  a 
splash  here  and  there  of  white 
dog-rose  and  crimson  rhodo- 
dendron. These  woods  of  the 
Kundahs  are  so  neatly  and 
closely  packed  that,  viewed 
from  above,  they  can  only 
be  described  as  "  pin-cushiony." 
For  some  cause,  which  is  a 
puzzle  to  every  one  who  notices 
things,  the  edges  of  these  shola 
woods  are  so  trimmed  and 


even  as  to  suggest  plantations. 
There  are  no  stragglers  or 
outlying  trees.  The  woods 
seem  to  have  marched  forward 
and  to  have  halted  on  the 
word,  and  then  aligned  them- 
selves. Within  the  heart  of 
every  shola  is  a  brook  rising 
close  below  the  crest  of  the 
hill.  The  trees  on  those  wind- 
swept rainy  slopes  are  close- 
cropped,  gnarled,  and  hairy 
with  the  long  growths  of  mosses, 
lichens,  ferns,  and  orchids. 
There  is  a  great  charm  about 
these  woods,  and  they  form 
most  excellent  covert  for  game. 

Any  one  who  wanders  on 
the  Kundahs  will  at  least  hope 
to  see  a  tiger.  For  the  sholas 
which  afford  these  beasts  the 
very  sort  of  covert  that  they 
love,  are  often  during  winter 
too  dense  and  too  cold  to  give 
ideal  lying ;  and  Mr  Stripes 
prefers  sometimes  the  open 
sunny  hillside,  although  it  lacks 
the  privacy  which  he  also 
loves.  Therefore,  tiger  have 
been  sighted  by  day  lying  or 
moving  on  these  open  hillsides, 
and  occasionally  have  been 
shot. 

From  our  vantage-point  high 
up  the  slopes  we  had  an  un- 
rivalled view  over  any  amount 
of  country ;  and  while  three 
pairs  of  eyes,  aided  by  binocu- 
lars and  telescope,  swept  the 
landscape,  a  young  stag,  un- 
aware of  our  presence  as  we 
were  of  his,  browsed  within 
fifty  yards  of  us. 

At  last  we  became  mutually 


1921.] 


Blue  Mountains. 


33 


aware  of  one  another.  He 
gave  us  a  beautiful  view  of 
himself  as  he  dashed  down  the 
hill  close  past  us,  and  then 
came  to  a  halt,  and  stood, 
antlers  erect,  at  gaze.  A  sam- 
bur  stag,  in  full  winter  coat, 
with  his  great  neck-ruff  dark 
with  dew,  is  a  very  goodly 
sight.  To  take  life  at  dawn 
is  often  the  lot  of  the  sports- 
man, and  yet  the  chase  is 
never  so  closely  akin  to  murder 
as  when  the  dew  is  on  the 
grass,  and  Nature,  under  the 
opening  eyelids  of  the  morn, 
is  at  her  orisons.  I  was  glad, 
therefore,  that  the  stag  did 
not  carry  a  shootable  head, 
for  had  he  done  so  my  pious 
reflections  would  scarcely  have 
saved  him. 

Then  Anthony  reported 
"Ibux."  They  were  the  first 
I  had  ever  seen,  and  for  some 
days  the  last.  I  had  just  a 
glimpse  of  them  on  the  sky- 
line above  me,  chamois-like 
animals  ;  and  then  they  were 
gone.  We  were  now  on  the 
top  of  the  Kundahs,  or  rim, 
that  walls  in  the  western  edge 
of  the  Nilgiri  plateau.  We  were 
within  a  mile  of  the  great 
precipices  which  form  the 
western  and  south-western  sides 
of  the  rim.  But  there  is  nothing 
so  invisible  from  above,  or  un- 
expected, as  a  really  first-class 
precipice,  and  the  ground  we 
were  on  looked  like  ideal  gallop- 
ing country  of  unlimited  ex- 
tent, green  downs  constantly 
dipping  into  little  valleys,  each 
containing  its  happy  little 
stream  chattering  over  sheet- 
rock  or  pebbles,  and  all  un- 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXIX. 


conscious  of  what  a  short  life 
theirs  was  to  be,  if  a  merry  one. 
For  all  these  streams,  looking 
so  strangely  out  of  place  so 
near  the  tops  of  these  9000- 
feet  hills,  run  their  short  course 
and  then  go  headlong  over  the 
precipices  above  alluded  to. 

Towards  noon,  after  seven 
hours'  walking,  we  were  think- 
ing of  boiling  the  billy  and 
having  lunch,  when  Anthony's 
eyes  glowed  a  livelier  red  as 
he  spotted  1000  feet  below 
us  and  about  a  mile  distant, 
a  sounder  of  pig.  I  was 
glad  to  see  them,  for  to  find 
pig  fairly  in  the  open  at  mid- 
day means  that  these  emi- 
nently canny  animals  have  not 
seen  human  beings  about  for 
a  long  time. 

Now  no  good  Christian  (in 
India)  likes  even  to  think  of 
killing  a  pig  in  any  other  way 
than  with  a  spear  and  from 
horseback.  Still  there  are  occa 
sions  when,  in  the  interests  of 
hungry  followers  and  in  country 
where  pig  are  not  ridden,  they 
may  be  shot. 

Anthony,  with  watering 
mouth  and  great  gusto,  was 
allowed  to  arrange  the  stalk. 
Number  one  pig  presently  fell 
to  a  pot  -  shot  at  100  yards. 
Number  two  was  fairly  browned 
in  the  ranks  of  the  sounder  as 
it  bunched  and  fled  at  about 
200  yards'  range.  Number 
three,  a  solitary  fellow  and 
honestly  aimed  at  (still  a  fluke), 
fell  at  400  yards.  Our  larder 
was  stocked,  and  I  felt  that, 
when  number  three  toppled 
over,  Anthony  had  invested 
me  with  the  blue  ribbon  only 
B 


34 


Blue  Mountains. 


[July 


awarded  to  really  good  pig- 
shooters.  I  felt  also  that  my 
name  —  sufficiently  mutilated, 
I  hoped,  as  to  be  unrecognis- 
able— would  go  down  to  other 
sportsmen  as  "  This  master 
shooting  pig  too  very  far." 
I  now  discovered  that  I  was 
to  fade  out  of  the  picture; 
that  the  day,  so  far  as  I  was 
concerned,  was  to  end,  and 
that  the  Anthonys  were  to 
spend  the  rest  of  it  in  cutting 
up  and  transporting  the  meat. 
I  was  unable  to  fall  in  with 
this  programme,  and  bade  my 
followers  cover  up  the  dead 
with  branches,  and  have  them 
sent  for  next  day. 

Toward  sundown  we  were 
at  the  cliffs  to  which  we  had 
looked  up  the  evening  before 
from  the  snipe-bog.  A  thou- 
sand feet  below  us  the  smoke 
from  the  Avalanche  bungalow 
chimneys  curled  up  invitingly 
and  suggested  an  immediate 
descent  and  tea.  But  to  go 
blundering  downhill  just  at 
the  hour  when  one  should  be 
sitting  quiet  and  watching  for 
game  moving  from  covert  would 
have  been  bad  work.  So  An- 
thony was  told  to  boil  the 
water  and  make  tea.  By  the 
time  we  had  drunk  that  and 
I  had  smoked  a  pipe,  we  should 
have  seen  out  the  daylight. 


Opposite  me  the  unrespon- 
sive face  of  the  cliff  caught  the 
levelling  rays  of  the  sun.  I 
hoped  we  might  see  an  ibex 
here.  To  the  left,  below  us, 
the  ground  sank  steeply  in 
long  grassy  spurs  and  sholas, 
to  where  the  young  Avalanche 
river  wound  over  the  plateau. 
Very  staggy  ground  this.  In- 
deed, a  sambur  grunted  in 
covert  while  we  watched.  Away 
to  the  right  were  the  green 
downs  with  the  blue  shadows 
in  their  hollows  spreading  and 
deepening,  while  here  and  there 
amongst  them  a  stream  flashed 
us  good  night. 

Then  the  sun  went  down, 
and  so  did  we ;  and  Anthony, 
who  was  lost  in  a  reverie  of 
pork  on  the  morrow,  blundered 
into  a  barking-deer  or  muntjac 
— animal  with  the  worst  bark 
and  the  least  bite  in  the  world. 
He  had  just  emerged  from 
covert  for  his  timid  evening 
graze.  He  and  my  rifle  went 
off  suddenly  together,  and  we 
picked  him  up  dead  just  inside 
covert. 

I  found  M back  when  I 

arrived  at  the  bungalow.  He 
had  seen  a  good  stag,  but  as  he 
said  he  had  come  up  for  air, 
exercise,  and  scenery,  and  had 
had  plenty  of  each,  he  was  quite 
content  with  his  day. 


vn. 

We  had  moved  camp  farther  and  inspected  the  trout  nur- 

into    the    Kundahs.      On    our  series.    These  are  the  result  of 

way    up    the    beautiful    Ava-  long-continued    and    for    long 

lanche   pass,    we    had    turned  unsuccessful      endeavours      to 

aside  into  a  pocket  of  the  hill  bring  trout  ova  to  the  Nilgiris. 


1921.] 


Blue  Mountains. 


35 


And  from  these  nurseries  trout 
now  are  sent  to  all  the  Mlgiri 
streams,  and  to  those  of  other 
hill  ranges  in  this  part  of  India. 

At  our  new  camp  Anthony 
now  indicated  a  sure  ibex 
ground  six  miles  away,  where, 
for  the  trouble  of  walking  that 
distance,  I  might  take  my 
pick  of  the  finest  kinds,  of 
saddle-back.  I  fell  in  with 
this  attractive  programme,  ex- 
cept to  alter  Anthony's  hour 
of  start  from  7  A.M.  to 
4.30  A.M.  At  that  hour, 
on  a  blazing  moonlight  morn- 
ing, we  set  off  over  a  country 
that  was  snow-white  with  a 
heavy  hoar-frost.  After  a  fair 
heel-and-toe  of  two  hours  along 
the  side  of  a  sheeted  valley, 
with  a  river  running  black  on 
our  right,  we  left  the  path, 
climbed  a  hill,  and  then  select- 
ing the  least  drafty-looking 
tufts  of  grass,  lay  down  under 
their  shelter,  to  await  the  light 
and  keep  out  of  the  searching 
dawn  wind  as  much  as  we 
could. 

We  were  rewarded  for  our 
early  start  and  chilly  wait,  for 
when  the  light  came  I  counted 
no  ibex  certainly,  but  no  less 
than  fourteen  sambur,  stag  and 
hind,  on  the  bare  hills  round  us. 
This  was  the  more  remarkable 
in  that  the  sambur  is  essentially 
a  forest  animal,  and  is  seldom 
met  with,  and  I  have  never 
seen  or  shot  one  out  of  covert 
after  daylight  as  these  were. 
The  glass  was  laid  into  each 
group  as  well  as  shivering 
hands  could  manage,  but  no 
shootable  head  was  to  be  seen. 
Then  the  sun  topped  the  hill, 


and  what  I  had  taken  to  be  a 
leafless  bush  about  a  mile  off 
suddenly  assumed  a  symmetry 
and  a  colour  that  no  bush  ever 
owned.  It  was  the  antlers  of 
a  shootable  stag,  couchant. 
Two  staglets  and  some  hinds 
grazed  by  him.  The  wind  was 
right  and  steady.  The  ground 
looked  easy  for  a  stalk.  The 
telescope  hissed-to,  and  away 
we  went,  very  glad  of  a  little 
exercise. 

Half  an  hour  later  I  lay 
within  100  yards  of  the  stag, 
a  prey  to  conflicting  emotions. 
Shootable  he  was,  but  I  had 
shot  many  a  better  one  else- 
where. I  had,  however,  never 
shot  a  Nilgiri  stag.  Added  to 
this,  through  the  soles  of  my 
boots,  near  which  his  nose 
was,  Anthony  was  breathing 
out  his  very  soul  in  slaughterous 
suggestion.  And  through  my 
boots  his  suggestion  passed  to 
my  dexter  index-finger.  Mean- 
while I  lay  watching  the  stag 
as  he  moved  and  grazed  in 
that  extremely  deliberate  way 
that  totally  unsuspicious  wild 
animals  have — first  a  nibble, 
then  a  slow  scratching  of  a 
flank  with  his  antlers,  then  a 
lounging  pace  forward.  And 
then  suddenly  a  most  furious 
rush  at  one  of  the  young 
stags,  who  must,  undetected 
by  me,  have  given  the  glad- 
eye  to  one  of  the  demure- 
looking  hinds.  Then  all  was 
peace  again,  and  Anthony  never 
ceased  breathing  temptation 
up  my  legs.  With  the  inevit- 
able result. 

We  gave  him — stag,  not  An- 
thony— a  leafy  sepulture,  where 


36 


Blue  Mountains. 


[July 


he  lay  after  crashing  and  rolling 
down  the  slope,  and  sent  for 
him  later. 

The  loud  river,  to  the  margin 
of  which  he  had  rolled,  went 
on  its  way  bawling  murder  to 
the  hills.  And  the  breeze, 
aider  and  abettor  in  the  mur- 
der, now  cried  it  abroad.  I 
dragged  the  red-handed  An- 
thony from  his  victim,  for  it 
was  his,  not  mine,  and  we 
slunk  on  our  way. 

We  had  a  very  long  and 
very  fruitless  day.  There  was 
not  the  sign  of  an  ibex  in  the 
country,  and  no  mark  of  one 
under  a  year  old.  I  arrived 
very  tired  and  much  out  of 
temper  in  camp,  which  had 


had  all  day  to  shift  in,  and 
only  six  miles  to  do.  The 
tents  were  not  up.  The  kettle 
was  not  boiling  even  ! 

M reported    the    fresh 

tracks  of  a  tigress  near  camp. 
He  had  also  wounded  a  sam- 
bur,  and  in  following  him  up 
had  penetrated  into  a  very 
dense  shola.  Here  he  came  on 
the  end  of  a  story  of  which 
some  one  else  possessed  the 
opening  chapters — to  wit,  the 
scattered  bones  of  a  tiger, 
many  months  old.  Sticking  in 
the  skull  was  the  bullet  which 
had  wounded  him  and  sent 

him  away  to  die  where  M 

had  found  his  bones,  much 
scattered  by  hyena  and  jackal. 


vm. 


It  was  our  seventh  day  out, 
and  yet  no  saddle-back  in  the 
bag.  At  sundown  we  stood 
on  a  hill,  with  a  hundred  other 
little  hills  around  us,  ready  to 
do  what  the  sweet  Psalmist 
bids  them  do.  Yet  they  neither 
leapt  not  clapped  their  hands 
for  me,  for  I  was  out  of  humour 
with  the  fair  scene,  and  I  fear 
my  "  carriages  "  towards  poor 
Anthony  were  something  harsh 
and  surly. 

Owing  to  this,  or  possibly 
to  his  having  been  walked  off 
his  legs,  he  was  looking  de- 
cidedly wilted.  His  red  eye 
drooped  under  his  drooping 
old  felt  hat.  His  foul  old 
Norfolk  jacket,  gift  of  some 
long-ago  sportsman,  was  al- 
most more  than  I  could  bear  ; 
and  John  Anthony,  in  his 


greasy  cloth  cap  and  shapeless 
legs,  also  looked  in  the  worst 
possible  taste. 

Eesolved  now  to  be  at  An- 
thony's bidding  no  longer  as 
regards  ibex,  and  to  take  the 
matter  into  my  own  hands,  I 
drew  a  bow  at  a  venture,  and 
pointed  out  a  black  cliff  some 
four  miles  away  as  being  our 
objective  for  the  morrow.  An- 
thony acquiesced  drearily,  add- 
ing a  rider  as  to  cliffs  being 
"  too  very  danger."  I  am  no 
cragsman,  and  I  was  sure 
Anthony  was  not,  but  where 
cliffs  were  (and  I  noticed  that 
we  had  studiously  avoided  them 
hitherto)  there  or  thereabouts 
might  ibex  be.  I  had  no 
intention  of  cliff-climbing,  but 
we  could  at  least  investigate 
their  vicinity.  We  settled  to 


192.1.] 


Blue  Mountains. 


37 


start  very  early  next  morning 
so  as  to  be  there  half  an  hour 
before  dawn,  and  to  take  one 
of  the  pony-men  with  us  to 
carry  a  blanket  apiece,  and 
then  send  back  when  the  sun 
rose  and  it  got  warmer.  And 
with  that  we  hit  the  trail  for 
camp,  visible  a  mile  away, 

M 's  white  and  my  khakee 

tent  nestling  into  the  edge  of 
a  little  druid  wood,  and  a  lawn 
in  front  just  big  enough  to 
take  the  table  and  the  fire. 
I  could  see  that  the  former 
was  laid  and  the  latter  lit, 

and   that    M was    seated 

by  the  fire  reading  what  looked 
like  an  expected  Christmas 


mail.  Bound  the  camp  our 
baggage  ponies  were  grazing, 
and  the  tinkle  of  their  bells 
was  pleasantly  audible.  An 
hour  later  we  were  at  dinner — 
pork-chops  and  venison,  a  clear 
windless  star-lit  night,  with 
just  a  pleasant  hint  of  frost. 
A  portly  Christmas  mail  had 
arrived :  it  was  Christmas 
Eve.  To-morrow  I  felt  cer- 
tain of  an  ibex.  The  only 
fly  in  the  ointment  might 
have  been  a  wild-rose  petal, 
from  a  cluster  overhead,  in 
the  soup ;  but  I  do  not  re- 
collect even  this.  Truly  if  we 
are  exiles,  we  have  our  com- 
pensations. 


IX. 


Next  morning  betimes  we 
were  at  the  black  cliff  which 
was  on  the  very  outermost 
edge  of  the  Kundahs.  With 
our  blankets  about  us  we  lay 
comfortably  enough  awaiting 
the  dawn.  With  the  first 
streaks  of  light,  when  we  could 
see  down  into  the  abyss  at  the 
brink  of  which  we  lay,  it  seemed 
as  if  we  were  poised  at  the 
very  edge  of  the  world.  Some 
6000  feet  below  us,  though  not 
yet  discernible,  we  knew  the 
Malabar  plain  lay.  As  we 
waited  and  peered  downwards, 
we  could  faintly  discern  that 
we  looked  into  and  across  a 
great  rift  some  four  miles 
across,  cleaving  the  perpendicu- 
lar fagade  of  the  Kundahs, 
which  here  present  to  the 
south-west  a  wall  of  precipices 
whose  like,  I  think,  can  scarcely 


be  equalled  elsewhere.  As  the 
dawn  grew,  there  loomed  far 
below  us  the  solid  -  looking 
grey  shapes  of  isolated  clouds, 
embayed  within  this  rift,  where 
they  hung  in  space  like  air- 
ships awaiting  daylight  to  re- 
sume their  voyage. 

Then  the  line  of  precipices, 
four  miles  away  across  the 
rift,  silently  and  solemnly  grew 
into  the  picture — acres  of  sheer 
rock  glistening  with  the  night 
mists,  their  feet  still  lost  in 
darkness,  and  their  gloomy 
fronts  meeting  the  first  light 
with  an  age-long  frown. 

A  little  later  the  Malabar 
plain,  6000  feet  below  us,  slowly 
revealed  itself,  with  its  dark 
smudges  of  teak  forest  and  the 
winding  tracks  of  its  rivers. 

This  great  transformation 
scene  evolved  itself  to  the 


38 


Blue  Mountains. 


[July 


sound  of  a  still  small  voice, 
the  ceaseless  whisper  of  an 
unseen  waterfall  that  fell  over 
the  unseen  precipice  on  the 
lip  of  which  we  lay.  There 
was  no  other  sound,  either  of 
wind  or  beast  or  bird.  And 
no  other  sound  could  have 
been  in  such  perfect  and  re- 
verent accord  with  the  great 
mandate,  "Let  there  be  light." 
I  have  seen  the  snowy  ranges 
of  the  highest  Himalayas  at 
sunrise  and  sunset.  They  were 
distant,  divinely  beautiful, 
ethereal,  but  they  were  not 
so  grand  and  not  so  impressive 
as  this.  It  was  a  solemn,  al- 
most oppressive  thought,  that 
this  scene  had  been  enacted 
daily  for  untold  ages,  and  that 
it  would  be  so  enacted  through 
ages  yet  to  come :  that  these 
changeless  unseeing  precipices 
should  daily  start  frowning  out 
of  darkness,  and  again  at  night 
be  swallowed  up  in  it.  It 
was  a  scene  that  recalled  an- 
other, on  Horeb,  when,  at  the 
sound  of  a  still  small  voice, 
the  prophet  wrapped  his  face 
in  his  mantle  and  went  and 
stood  at  the  entering  in  of  the 
cave,  and  behold  there  came  a 
voice  unto  him. 

Our  eyes,  however,  were  soon 
otherwise  engaged  than  in  cliff- 
gazing.  Anthony  had  already 
reported  in  a  husky  whisper 
that  there  was  something  in 
view.  At  present  all  we  could 
make  out  in  the  half  light  was 
a  group  of  shapes  that  had  the 
look  of  live  shapes,  and  might 
be  sambur,  pig,  or  ibex.  The 
glass  was  laid  on  to  them,  but 
could  give  no  verdict  yet. 


They  looked  to  be  about  1200 
yards  away,  and  were  on  the 
very  brink  of  the  precipice. 

Then  as  the  light  of  Christmas 
morning  came  striding  across 
the  sky,  a  glad  whisper  went 
up  that  they  were  ibex  ;  and 
a  little  later  that  there  were 
four  of  them ;  and  a  little 
later  seven ;  and  last  and 
best,  that  one  of  them  was  a 
saddle-back.  They  were  badly 
placed  for  a  shot,  for  they 
were  approachable  only  from 
one  direction,  and  that  was 
down-wind.  To  get  at  them 
up-wind  necessitated  wings,  for 
they  were  on  the  edge  of  noth- 
ing, and  it  was  an  "  off-shore  " 
wind.  There  was  nothing  to 
do  but  wait — and  I  employed 
the  time  in  having  a  good  look 
at  the  saddle-back.  I  have 
seen  since  then  many  Nilgiri 
ibex,  and  shot  several  saddle- 
back ;  and  I  maintain  that 
no  other  animal  is  so  difficult 
to  distinguish  as  is  the  saddle- 
back from  the  unshootable 
males  (called  brown  bucks),  or 
even  from  the  females.  They 
all  carry  horns  of  sorts,  and 
the  saddle  is  not  so  distinctive 
a  mark  that  it  cannot  be 
counterfeited  by  the  sun  shin- 
ing on  the  sleek  backs  of  brown 
buck  or  doe,  as  you  look  down 
on  them  from  a  height.  But 
this  fellow  I  had,  off  and  on, 
in  the  field  of  my  telescope  for 
two  hours,  and  committed  all 
his  marks  by  heart. 

I  beguiled  the  time  with 
my  Christmas  mail,  which  I 
had  brought  up  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  in  turning  the  glass 
on  to  the  opposite  cliffs.  There 


1921.] 


Blue  Mountains. 


39 


was  something  fascinating  in 
bringing  those  inaccessible  acres 
of  perpendicularity  close  to 
the  eye,  and  in  taking  a  close 
scrutiny  of  places  where  the 
foot  of  man  never  had  passed 
and  never  would  pass.  Above 
them  was  the  green  scalp  of 
the  downs,  and  in  and  out 
amongst  these  came  the  flash  of 
a  stream,  nearer  and  ever  nearer 
the  brink,  and  then  over  it 
went,  like  a  length  of  lace  hung 
over  the  edge  and  blown  hither 
and  thither,  and  at  times  com- 
pletely severed  by  the  wind 
that  came  up  the  rift. 

The  wind  still  remained  un- 
favourable. I  began  after  a 
couple  of  hours  to  be 
impatient.  Anthony  said 
"  Wait " ;  but  as  he  had 
hitherto  been  singularly  wrong 
in  all  his  pronouncements,  I 
had  little  faith  in  them.  He 
maintained  that  the  herd  would 
soon  be  moving  to  water  and 
away  from  the  cliff .  He  proved 
perfectly  right,  but  I  would 
have  none  of  it,  and  taking 
advantage  of  a  favourable  slant 
of  wind,  I  began  a  risky  stalk. 
I  had  hardly  gone  100  yards 
when  the  ibex  moved  quietly 
off  in  single  file,  and  away 
from  the  cliff.  For  a  moment 
I  thought  they  had  got  our 
wind  or  had  seen  us.  But  their 
quiet  leisurely  progress  soon 
allayed  my  fears.  No  sooner 
had  the  rear  ibex  disappeared 
over  a  saddle  in  the  hill  than 
we  dashed  after  them,  topped 
the  saddle  cautiously,  peered 
over,  and  saw  the  herd  1000 
yards  away  passing  over  an- 
other saddle.  Fearful  of  losing 


them  altogether  if  they  main- 
tained their  present  rate  of 
progress,  we  did  another  rush 
after  them,  paused  to  get 
breath  before  peeping  over  the 
saddle,  and  there  they  were 
just  disappearing  over  a  third 
undulation.  We  repeated  the 
manoeuvre,  and  now,  as  I  was 
badly  blown  and  could  not 
have  held  the  rifle  steady,  I 
had  to  pause  again.  When  I 
brought  my  eyes  over  the  crest, 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen. 
I  drew  back,  passed  along  a 
few  yards,  and  then  again 
peeped  over.  At  first  nothing 
was  visible,  and  then  suddenly 
the  herd  grew  like  a  puzzle- 
picture  out  of  the  dense  shade 
of  a  clump  of  trees  and  under- 
growth. They  had  evidently 
just  drunk  at  a  stream  that 
lay  between  myself  and  them, 
and  were  standing  motionless 
and  unsuspicious  :  range  (later, 
paced)  175  yards,  much  too 
far  for  my  liking,  and  the 
saddle-back  stood  surrounded 
by  the  others.  They  let  me 
get  into  position,  and  then 
began  to  move  quietly  off 
across  my  front.  The  saddle- 
back, who  was  a  real  gentle- 
man, came  last,  and  selecting 
a  slab  of  sheet-rock  right  oppo- 
site me,  came  to  a  halt,  broad- 
side on.  Since  shooting  my  first 
tiger  I  had  never  felt  so  utter- 
ly nervous.  As  I  pressed  the 
trigger  the  herd  went  off  with 
a  clatter,  but  the  saddle-back 
gave  one  bound  backwards, 
and  was  lost  in  the  dense 
shade  from  which  he  had 
just  emerged.  I  waited  for 
his  reappearance.  Nothing  hap- 


40 


Blue  Mountains. 


[July 


pened.    So  I  covered  the  place    ing,  intense  anxiety,  and  finally, 
with  my  rifle,  and  sent  Anthony    some  sprinting. 

glad 


down  to  investigate.     A 
shout  came  up,  "  Dead." 

While  he  was  being  skinned 
the  billy  was  put  on  to  boil, 
and  never  did  a  mug  of  tea 
taste  better,  for  we  had  .had 
seven  hours  of  walking,  watch- 


It  being  Christmas  Day  and 
a  saddle-back  in  the  bag,  the 
rest  of  the  day  was  to  be,  of 
course,  observed  as  a  holiday. 
And  so  back  to  camp,  a  nice 
easy  four  miles,  all  downhill,  and 
with  a  good  path  all  the  way. 


x. 


We  now  moved  camp  to  the 
extreme  south-west  promon- 
tory of  the  Nilgiri  plateau. 
Another  march  would  have 
taken  us  out  of  the  ibex 
ground  and  down  into  the 
country  of  elephant  and  bison. 
Indeed,  it  was  evident  that  the 
former  had  taken  a  short-cut 
over  the  plateau  in  moving 
from  one  feeding  -  ground  to 
another.  They  had  crossed  it 
in  wet  weather,  and  as  the 
ground  had  now  hardened  and 
become  densely  grown  with 
grass,  we  were  continually 
stumbling  in  their  huge  foot- 
prints. It  may  be  noted  that 
in  steep  hilly  country  the  man- 
path  and  the  game-path  will 
always  be  the  same — that  is, 
the  line  of  country  with  the 
least  amount  of  uphill  and 
downhill  in  it.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  more  accurate  to 
say  that  wild  animals,  having 
an  unfailing  eye  for  a  country, 
make  the  path,  and  man  uses 
it.  The  wild  elephant  is  a 
sad  gadabout  and  a  most 
determined  sight  -  seer.  His 
tracks  will  often  lead  to  the 
top  of  the  highest  and  barest 
hills,  and  for  no  conceivable 


purpose  unless  it  be  to  see  the 
view.  He  is,  with  all  due  re- 
spect to  him,  a  great  nuisance. 
You  may  not  hurt  him,  for  he 
is  preserved ;  but  he  is  per- 
fectly free  to  do  what  he  likes 
with  you,  until  he  commits 
himself  too  frequently,  and  he 
is  then  "  proclaimed,"  and  may 
be  shot.  How  many  murders 
he  has  to  commit  to  become 
proclaimed,  I  do  not  know. 

From  this  camp  I  saw  from 
thirty  to  forty  ibex,  but  al- 
though a  saddle-back  must 
have  been  about  I  could  not 
distinguish  him.  This  mattered 
the  less,  for  in  the  Nilgiris  an 
individual  is  only  allowed  to 
shoot  one  saddle-back  in  the 
year. 

M having  now  been  re- 
called from  leave,  and  there 
not  being  many  days  left  of 
my  own,  I  accompanied  him 
back  to  the  Emerald  Valley, 
where  we  parted.  As  I  had 
shot  my  one  ibex,  I  determined 
to  put  in  my  last  few  days  in 
sight-seeing,  and  particularly 
in  visiting  the  famous  Mukarti 
peak.  So  reducing  my  kit  to 
the  smallest  possible  dimen- 


1921.] 


Blue  Mountains. 


41 


sions,  and  taking  only  a  shelter- 
tent  weighing  with  its  bag 
and  aluminium  pegs  under  6  lb., 
and  a  light  rifle,  I  trekked  away 
for  the  peak.  A  longish  uphill 
and  down- dale  march  brought 
me  to  the  base  of  it,  and  a 
1500  feet  climb  up  a  steep  zigzag 
path  brought  me  to  the  little 
camping-ground  within  a  few 
hundred  feet  of  the  summit. 
Mukarti  was  a  familiar  enough 
sight  from  a  distance,  and  I  had 
often  looked  at  it  from  other 
parts  of  the  plateau.  It  stands 
up  against  the  sky  like  a  giant 
shark's  fin,  and  nearly  always 
has  a  background  of  very 
fantastically  -  shaped  clouds 
grouped  about  it.  On  nearer 
approach  it  displays  two  shark's 
fins,  and  has  then  more  the 
appearance  of  the  ears,  sharply 
pricked,  of  some  great  beast. 

Towards  sunset  I  climbed 
the  last  few  hundred  feet,  and 
as  I  ascended  the  steep  slope 
of  one  of  the  ears  and  neared 
its  tip,  I  did  the  final  few 
yards  on  hands  and  knees,  and 
peeped  over  the  tip  lying  down. 
I  found  myself  looking  into  a 
chasm  cut  into  the  face  of  the 
Kundahs  from  the  far  distant 
plains  7000  feet  below.  But 
up  to  within  1000  feet  below 
me  this  great  abyss  was  filled 
with  black  slowly-swirling  cloud, 
which  had  been  packed  into  it 
and  imprisoned  there  by  the 
sea-breeze  which  now  blew  in 
my  face.  Another  and  con- 
trary wind  blew  from  behind 
me.  Opposite  me  and  across 
the  rift  the  craggy  "  Nilgiri  " 
Peak,  the  base  of  its  precipices 
disappearing  into  the  black 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXIX. 


cloud  which  filled  the  rift, 
reared  itself  in  a  challenging 
attitude  into  the  clear  sky, 
and  about  two  miles  distant 
from  me.  From  the  black  and 
constantly  moving  cloud-pack 
below  me,  detachments  kept 
breaking  off,  and,  urged  by  the 
one  breeze,  slowly  crept  up 
the  gullies  and  re-entrants  till 
they  topped  the  brink  and 
there  met  the  other  wind,  when 
they  reared  up  on  end  and 
assumed  those  weird  shapes 
which  I  had  so  often  noticed 
from  a  distance.  Whether  it 
was  the  great  depth  I  looked 
into  or  the  constantly  swirling 
cloud  that  half  filled  it,  I  do 
not  know ;  but  although  I  have 
a  tolerably  good  head  for 
heights,  a  feeling  very  much 
akin  to  sea-sickness  overcame 
me,  and  compelled  me  to  with- 
draw from  the  edge.  I  was 
anxious  to  see  the  sun  go  down, 
so,  following  the  line  of  the 
precipice  for  a  short  distance, 
I  at  last  found  a  little  grassy 
ledge  just  over  the  edge  where 
I  could  sit  out  of  the  wind 
and  watch  the  sun  set  in  the 
Indian  Ocean  sixty  miles  away. 
I  took  my  seat  here,  but  al- 
though as  safe  as  a  house, 
mat  de  mer  still  followed  me. 
If  I  shut  my  eyes,  I  felt  the 
abyss  below  me  ;  if  I  opened 
them,  I  saw  it.  I  envied  my 
dog,  who  curled  himself  up 
and  went  to  sleep.  So  I  left 
the  sun  to  perform  his  couchfo 
without  a  spectator,  and 
stepped  out  for  camp.  To  see 
solid  ground  all  about  me  was 
a  great  relief,  and  there  was 
something  very  homely  and 

B2 


42 


Blue  Mountains. 


[July 


comforting  when  far  below  me 
I  caught  sight  of  my  camp 
fire  and  my  little  camp.  Next 
day  I  went  to  the  base  of  the 
Nilgiri  peak,  which  is  said  never 
to  have  been  scaled  save  by 
one  individual  (and  he  of  very 
doubtful  veracity),  and  well  I 
could  believe  it. 

Viewed  from  here,  I  could 
not  get  away  from  the  impres- 
sion that  the  two  peaks,  Muk- 
arti  and  Nilgiri,  were  two  live 
things,  challenged  and  chal- 
lenger :  the  challenger,  Nilgiri 
Peak,  rearing  up  as  if  on  the 
point  of  a  spring  over  the  rift 
at  his  adversary  Mukarti ;  the 
latter,  motionless  and  watch- 
ful, awaiting  the  onset  with 
his  two  great  ears  pricked 
eternally  over  space.  Eoom 
enough  here  for  a  world  of 
legend  and  fairy  tale,  were  the 
Toda  man  a  little  more  alive 
to  his  opportunities.  As  it  is, 
he  uses  Mukarti  as  the  jumping- 
off  place  (and  a  better  jump  it 
would  be  hard  to  find)  for  the 
souls  of  his  dead  brethren 
and  their  buffaloes,  when  they 
take  their  departure  for  the 
Toda  underworld. 

Measured  roughly,  the  Indian 
Ocean  is  some  sixty  miles  dis- 
tant from  here,  looking  west- 
wards ;  and  early  in  the  after- 
noon I  had  turned  my  glass 
towards  it.  There  was,  how- 
ever, nothing  to  be  f seen  bar- 
ring two  or  three  solid-looking 
black  things,  inclining  from  the 
vertical,  low  down  in  what  I 
took  to  be  the  western  sky. 
Later,  however,  with  the  sun 
nearer  the  horizon,  I  turned 
my  glass  in  this  direction  again, 


and  what  I  had  taken  to  be 
part  of  the  sky  now  proved  to 
be  the  crinkled  floor  of  the 
Indian  Ocean,  its  far  edge 
mingling  with  the  sky  and  its 
near  edge  with  the  haze  that 
quite  hid  the  coast-line.  The 
black  things  were  sailing-craft 
heeling  to  the  breeze.  Through 
the  glass  I  could  make  out 
others,  and  their  rig  and  what 
sail  they  carried.  A  steamer 
was  also  making  down  the 
coast,  her  progress  visible  as 
that  of  the  hour-hand  of  a 
clock — that  is,  one  could  see 
no  movement,  but  only  that 
it  had  moved  and  kept  on 
doing  so. 

My  companions,  unlike  those 
of  stout  Cortez  on  another 
peak  gazing  at  another  ocean, 
did  not  appear  to  be  at  any 
wild  surmise,  unless  it  were,  as 
they  dosed,  how  long  it  would 
be  before  they  were  back  in 
camp. 

Mukarti  Peak,  in  order  to 
keep  himself  from  toppling 
into  the  plains,  thrusts  out  a 
long  and  jagged  flying-buttress 
right  down  into  the  forests  far 
below.  One  side  of  this  but- 
tress is  sheer  precipice ;  the 
other,  grass  slopes  as  steep 
as  grass  slopes  can  be,  and 
precipice  and  slope  meet  at 
the  top  in  a  veritable  razor- 
edge,  although  a  very  jagged 
one.  I  spent  an  exceedingly 
toilsome  day  in  working  this 
buttress,  for  there  is  no  kind 
of  walking  more  toilsome  than 
on  the  sides  of  one's  boots  on  a 
dry  grass  slope.  I  saw  three 
or  four  different  herds  of  ibex, 
all  in  quite  unget-at-able  places  ; 


1921.] 


Blue  Mountains. 


43 


and  by  showing  myself,  I  got 
them  to  perform  the  most 
astonishing  feats  of  agility  on 
the  face  of  the  cliff.  Those 
who  have  seen  the  wild  goats 
on  the  Mappin  terraces  in  the 
Zoological  Gardens  walk  across 
the  face  of  their  miniature  cliff 
at  the  bidding  of  their  keeper, 
can  form  some  idea  of  it. 
Yet  even  these  walls  of  appa- 
rently sheer  rock  do  not  afford 
the  ibex  safety  from  that  curse 
of  all  Indian  shooting-grounds, 
whether  plain  or  mountain, 
the  wild  dog.  These  brutes 
have  been  seen  making  better 
time  along  a  cliff -face  in  pursuit 
of  ibex  than  the  ibex  them- 
selves. I  have  not  witnessed 
this  myself,  but  I  have  heard 
the  wild  dog  at  work  far  below 
me,  and  seen  the  terrified 
ibex  come  up  from  below  and 
take  to  the  downs  above  the 
cliffs. 

It  was  time  to  leave  Mukarti 
and  to  turn  my  unwilling  steps 
homewards.  For  two  days  I 
dawdled  along  a  river-bank 
idly  wetting  a  line  with  a  view 
to  carp  and  only  pulling  out 
trout,  which  were  out  of  season 


and  had  to  be  returned.  There 
were  excursions  also  after  that 
very  evasive  fellow  the  Nilgiri 
snipe.  And  so  into  Ootaca- 
mund. 

I  have  been  in  India  a  good 
many  years,  and  have  sampled 
nearly  every  variety  of  its 
sport,  scenery,  and  climate, 
whether  of  mountain,  foot-hill, 
plain,  river-bed,  or  jungle.  I 
have  taken,  with  rifle,  spear, 
rod,  and  gun,  a  modest  toll  of 
nearly  every  game  animal  that 
exists  in  the  Great  Peninsula. 
On  mantelpiece  and  wall  are 
mementos,  great  and  small,  of 
them  all,  ranging  from  jaw  of 
mahseer  and  tusk  of  boar  to 
buffalo  and  bison  heads.  Each 
has  its  memories.  But  pleas- 
antest  of  them  all  is  that 
afforded  by  the  plain  homely 
head  of  an  old  saddle-back 
and  one  of  his  forefeet.  I  like 
to  think  that  those  glassy 
goaty  old  eyes  have  seen,  and 
that  gamey  foot  has  traversed, 
just  the  same  scenes  as  I  have 
— the  green  downs,  the  purling 
streams,  and  the  black  cliffs 
of  the  Blue  Mountains. 

X. 


44 


[July 


A  MAN   IN   THE   MAKING. 

BY   BARTIMEUS. 


HE  was  one  of  those  reddish 
creatures :  red  hair,  brown 
eyes  that  looked  as  if  they  had 
sparks  in  them,  and  a  profusion 
of  freckles  about  his  nose  and 
cheek-bones.  Hair  and  £yes 
were  an  inheritance  from  his 
Mother,  whose  Grandmother 
lived  in  one  of  those  damp 
mysterious-looking  palaces  re- 
flected in  great  numbers  in  the 
canals  of  Venice.  The  freckles 
he  got  from  his  Father,  who 
was  pure  Celtic  Scots,  and 
named  him  Euan.  Euan  Ba- 
phael  M'Neil,  to  give  you  the 
whole  thing,  but  his  Mother 
called  him  "  Eaffy." 

At  the  time  he  was  ap- 
pointed to  his  first  seagoing 
ship  he  stood  perhaps  5  feet 
4  inches,  but  mere  inches  or 
lack  of  them  is  no  criterion 
when  one  suddenly  finds  one- 
self a  full-fledged  midshipman. 
Moreover,  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed to  the  new  Flagship 
of  the  China  Squadron,  and 
was  due  to  leave  England  in 
a  few  days'  time.  Also  he 
had  a  dirk.  .  .  . 

No,  decidedly  inches  did  not 
matter. 

His  Mother  and  Father  ac- 
companied him  to  Portsmouth 
on  the  eve  of  the  day  he  was 
to  join  his  ship.  Euan  was 
inclined  to  protest  at  this  as 
having  a  flavour  of  "  wet-nurs- 
ing "  about  it,  but  his  Mother 


explained  that  China  was  a 
very  long  way  off,  and  two  years 
was  a  long  time  when  you 
looked  at  it  from  this  end.  And 
he  was  their  only  son. 

They  stayed  at  an  old- 
fashioned  hotel  near  the  dock- 
yard gates.  The  windows  looked 
out  across  the  Hard  at  the 
Victory  swinging  to  the  tide, 
and  the  red-brown  roofs  and 
gables  of  Gosport.  Submarines 
and  destroyers  passed  in  and 
out  all  day,  and  just  as  they 
were  sitting  down  to  dinner  a 
mammoth  battleship  glided  ma- 
jestically up  harbour  from  the 
mysterious  outer  sea.  The  air 
smelt  of  salt  and  seaweed,  and 
nearly  every  passer-by  was  a 
bluejacket  or  marine.  But  no 
one  in  the  hotel  seemed  to 
notice  these  things  :  and  Euan, 
eating  boiled  mutton  and  caper- 
sauce  in  the  bow-window  of  the 
coffee-room  with  its  air  of 
shabby  dignified  antiquity,  real- 
ised that  little  round  him  had 
changed  since  Nelson  stepped 
down  from  the  adjacent  sally- 
port to  his  waiting  gig,  to  em- 
bark in  that  same  Victory  for 
the  last  time,  and  Tom  Cringle 
and  his  friends  ruffled  in  to 
that  very  coffee  -  room  and 
called  for  spiced  brandy-and- 
water.  .  .  . 

Both  his  Mother  and  Father 
sat  on  his  bed  after  he  had 
undressed  and  turned  in.  They 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


all  kept  up  a  kind  of  forced 
joviality,  and  even  indulged  in 
a  mild  pillow-fight ;  but  after 
Euan's  Mother  had  kissed 
him  good  night  and  gone  to 
her  own  room,  his  Father 
sat  on,  twisting  his  empty  pipe 
slowly  round  in  his  strong 
hands,  staring  through  the  open 
windows  at  the  lights  across 
the  harbour. 

"  You're  sixteen,  Euan,"  he 
said  presently.  "  The  next 
two  years  are  the  ones  that 
matter  most  in  all  your  life. 
When  you  are  quite  an  old 
man  " — a  smile  lurked  beneath 
his  bristly  ginger  moustache, — 
"  as  old  as  I  am  even,  you  will 
find  that  these  next  two  years 
are  the  holding-ground  for  your 
soul's  anchor."  He  chewed 
his  pipe-stem.  "  This  ain't 
going  to  be  a  pi- jaw.  I've  told 
you  already  all  you  need  to 
know — all  there  is  to  know. 
You  know  about  women,  Euan, 
and  all  that.  .  .  .  There's  only 
one  way  to  keep  a  clean  mind, 
and  that's  to  sweat  good  and 
hearty  every  day  and  turn  in 
dog-tired.  .  .  .  He  rose  and 
stood  looking  down  at  his  son 
with  grim  wistfulness.  "  Go 
on  believing  in  the  things 
Mother  taught  you.  Don't  get 
too  jolly  manly  to  say  your 
prayers  ;  and  write  home  once 
a  week."  He  turned  and  strode 
to  the  door.  "  Come  back  a 
man.  Good  night." 

They  walked  with  him  to  the 
Dockyard  gate  the  following 
morning.  Euan  would  have 
preferred  to  perform  the  short 
journey  unaccompanied,  but  he 
wore  his  uniform  and  dirk,  and 


his  Mother  pleaded  to  be  al- 
lowed to  walk  beside  him  thus 
arrayed.  What  could  he  do  but 
humour  her,  with  China  16,000 
miles  away,  and  the  impending 
two  years'  commission  stretch- 
ing away  into  Infinity  ?  The 
policeman  at  the  gate  looked 
down  at  him  from  his  immense 
height,  and  replied  to  Euan's 
query  as  to  his  ship's  where- 
abouts with  a  jerk  of  his 
strapped  chin.  "  'Longside  the 
Farewell  Jetty.  First  opening 
on  your  left  and  keep  straight 
through." 

Euan  glanced  at  his  Mother 
and  Father.  He  had  a  curious 
feeling  he  mentally  described 
to  himself  as  "  bowelly."  His 
inside  seemed  to  be  composed 
entirely  of  some  restless  un- 
stable fluid.  He  fingered  his 
dirk  hilt  in  search  of  com- 
fort. The  surface  was  a  pale- 
coloured  pebbly  substance  his 
Mother  called  shagreen  and 
his  Father  said  was  shark-skin 
— a  material  (according  to  his 
Father)  favoured  for  the  manu- 
facture of  sword-hilts,  because 
it  did  not  grow  slippery  with 
blood.  .  .  . 

Its  contact  with  his  fingers 
heartened  him.  The  impulse 
to  throw  his  arms  round  his 
Mother's  neck  passed  as  swiftly 
as  it  came.  He  grinned  at  his 
Father,  who  was  looking  at 
him  with  a  kind  of  critical 
anxiety. 

"  So  long,  old  cock,"  said 
his  Father.  "  We'U  look  out 
for  you  about  tea-time  if  they'll 
let  you  come  ashore." 

"  Eight  -  o  !  "  replied  Euan. 
He  avoided  his  Mother's  eye, 
and,  turning,  set  off  in  the 


46 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


direction  indicated  by  the 
policeman. 

His  Mother  and  Father,  who 
lacked  the  fortifying  influence 
of  brass  buttons,  dirk,  and 
patches,  stood  staring  after 
him  till  he  vanished  from 
sight  behind  a  pile  of  rusty 
buoys. 

His  Mother  gave  a  sort  of 


gulp.     "  Why   did  we  do  it  f 

Oh,  why " 

Her  husband  pressed  her 
arm  as  they  retraced  their 
steps.  "  Because  he's  all  we've 
got.  All  we  prize  and  love  and 
value  in  the  world.  He's  good 
stuff,  Nina,  though  I  say  it  what 
shouldn't.  He's  worthy  of  the 
Empire.  And  now,  so  are  we." 


H. 


That  first  day  on  board 
remained  for  all  time  a  tangle 
of  blurred  impressions,  few  of 
which  ever  succeeded  in  de- 
taching themselves  into  sepa- 
rate distinct  memories. 

Euan  was  greeted  at  the 
gangway  by  the  Midshipman 
of  the  Watch,  a  saturnine 
youth  a  couple  of  years  his 
senior,  who  adjured  him  in  a 
swift  whisper  to  flee  while 
there  was  yet  time  :  the  assur- 
ance that  the  Commander  was 
a  cannibal  and  that  the  Sub 
was  frequently  tried  for  man- 
slaughter of  junior  midship- 
men did  little  to  give  him 
self-confidence  as  he  stood  for- 
lornly on  the  vast  Quarter-deck 
and  awaited  recognition  by  an 
Olympian  Lieutenant.  This 
dignitary,  who  carried  a  tele- 
scope under  his  arm  and  wore 
a  sword-belt  round  a  wasp-like 
frock-coated  waist,  eyed  him 
coldly  through  a  monocle,  and 
said  in  a  tone  of  complete 
mental  and  physical  exhaus- 
tion :  "  Carry  on." 

Under  the  guidance  of  the 
Midshipman  of  the  Watch  (who, 
Euan  decided,  had  the  largest 
feet  and  ears  and  the  tightest 


trousers  of  any  mortal  he  had 
ever  seen),  he  was  conducted 
forward  to  the  Commander's 
cabin.  The  breakfast  hour  was 
still  in  progress,  and  the  bat- 
teries were  crowded  with  men 
sitting  about  and  smoking.  A 
diminutive  Marine  Bugler,  with 
a  countenance  of  serene  childish 
purity,  strutted  past,  and  eyed 
Euan  superciliously.  As  Euan's 
guide  paused  before  a  curtained 
doorway  in  the  superstructure, 
a  stout  Petty  Officer  Quarter- 
master stepped  into  his  line 
of  vision,  addressing  the  Marine 
Bugler :  "  If  I  'ears  you  usin' 
that  hawful  langwidge  again 
..."  was  wafted  to  the  ears  of 
the  shocked  newcomer. 

Euan  felt  himself  propelled 
by  a  hand  on  his  elbow  into 
the  doorway,  and  left  there 
in  full  view  of  a  big  man  with 
a  curly  beard  in  the  act  of 
lighting  a  pipe.  He  wore  the 
uniform  of  a  Commander.  His 
cabin  was  littered  with  half- 
unpacked  trunks  and  suit-cases, 
golf -clubs,  guns,  and  fishing- 
rods.  Photographs  and  dog- 
biscuits  strewed  the  chairs 
and  bunk,  a  red  setter  lay 
with  her  nose  on  her  paws, 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


47 


one  eye  open  on  the  door- 
way. 

"  Come  aboard  to  join,  sir," 
said  Euan.  Somehow  the  sight 
of  all  this  confusion  filled  Euan 
with  a  feeling  of  compassion 
for  the  man  with  the  curly 
beard,  whose  head  by  this 
time  was  almost  completely 
enveloped  in  tobacco  smoke. 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  groaned  an 
extraordinarily  deep  voice. 
"  Another  !  "  A  big  brown 
hand  was  extended  to  him. 
A  pair  of  inflammable  very 
blue  eyes  were  covering  him 
from  head  to  foot  with  a 
faintly  amused  gleam. 

"  What's  your  name  !  " 

"  M'Neil,  sir." 

Euan  shook  hands,  and  as 
he  did  so  something  conveyed 
the  impression  to  him  that 
nothing  could  ever  perturb 
this  big  man  ;  that  all  he  asked 
of  life  was  adventure  and  hard 
work  ;  that  fear  was  a  sensa- 
tion he  had  yet  to  experience  ; 
that  you  could  lie  to  those 
blue  eyes  with  as  much  hope 
of  success  as  you  could  plunge 
your  hand  unscathed  in  molten 
iron.  .  .  . 

"  I'm  a  new  boy,  too,"  said 
the  profound  bass  voice. 
"  None  of  us  enjoy  being  that. 
Cut  along  to  the  Gunroom  and 
shake  down.  First  ship  ?  " 

"  Yessir  !  "  said  Euan,  stiff 
as  a  ramrod  and  in  the  manliest 
of  voices. 

"  Well,  all  your  troubles  are 
in  front  of  you  ;  that's  the  best 
place  to  keep  'em."  He  turned 
to  a  desk  heaped  with  note- 
books and  papers  and  unopened 
letters.  "  You'd  better  sling 
your  hammock  to-day." 


Emerging  from  the  cabin, 
Euan  again  encountered  the 
Midshipman  of  the  Watch,  who 
conducted  him  down  a  metal 
hatchway  on  to  the  dimly- 
lighted  Main-deck. 

Kaleidoscope  impressions 
whirled  through  Euan's  brain 
— vistas  of  men,  bearded  and 
clean-shaven,  barefooted  and 
otherwise,  crowding  narrow 
decks  and  passages.  They 
passed  to  and  fro  on  mysterious 
errands  without  jostling,  worked 
at  incomprehensible  tasks,  each 
with  a  curious  self -containment 
as  if  he  moved  enclosed  in  an 
invisible  envelope  of  his  own 
personality.  There  were  hun- 
dreds of  men,  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  them  :  there  was 
an  odour  between  decks  of 
wet  paint,  cooked  food,  much- 
slept-in  blankets,  tarred  rope, 
caustic  soda,  and  scrubbed 
woodwork  all  faint  and  in- 
termingled. In  years  to  come 
that  smell  was  destined  to 
greet  him  after  a  prolonged 
spell  of  leave  like  a  joyous 
embrace,  so  that  he  would 
half-shut  his  eyes  and  sniff 
deep  and  smack  his  lips  with 
a  grateful  "  Ah  .  .  . !  "  It  was 
the  smell  of  a  man-of-war, 
different  to  all  other  odours 
in  the  world,  hateful  or  ex- 
quisite, "  all  according,"  as 
they  say. 

Lights  burned  dimly  behind 
thick  globes  along  the  bulk- 
head. Eifle- barrels  in  racks 
between  the  lights  caught  suc- 
cessive gleams  in  dull  reflec- 
tion. Cutlass  hilts  spread  fan- 
wise  overhead  ;  against  a  white- 
enamelled  casing  stood  a  row 
of  midshipmen's  sea-chests,  each 


48 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


with  the  owner's  name  on  a 
brass  plate.  As  he  passed  them 
one  caught  his  eye  : — 

EUAN  E.  M'NEIL, 
Eoyal  Navy. 

Up  to  that  moment  he  had 
had  the  sensation  of  being 
whirled  along  by  some  swift, 
irresistible,  and  utterly  indif- 
ferent force.  But  the  sight  of 
his  own  name — his  peculiar 
intimate  possession — standing 
there  like  a  rock  in  a  cataract, 
steadied  him.  He  clutched  at 
a  lost  individuality.  "  This 
is  ME,"  he  said.  In  the  midst 
of  all  this  unfamiliarity,  this 
busy  ship-life  seething  round 
him,  he  was  aware  of  himself, 
a  small  frightened  figure,  grip- 
ping the  hilt  of  his  dirk,  utterly 
insignificant,  but  master  of  his 
soul. 

He  found  himself  in  the  Gun- 
room without  a  very  clear  idea 
how  he  got  there.  It  was  a 
long  narrow  space  lit  by  scuttles 
in  the  ship's  side  and  occupied 
almost  entirely  by  a  table  :  a 
settee  ran  round  it  upholstered 
in  American  cloth,  and  at  one 
end,  where  a  trap-hatch  con- 
nected with  the  pantry,  a 
Chinese  steward  and  a  couple 
of  Marine  servants  were  re- 
moving the  de'bris  of  breakfast. 

A  Sub-Lieutenant  sat  at  the 
end  of  the  table  smoking  over 
the  morning  paper.  His  hair 
was  fair,  almost  golden,  and 
of  a  rather  effeminate  curli- 
ness.  His  face  from  brow  to 
mouth  was  singularly  beauti- 
ful, like  a  saint  in  a  stained- 
glass  window,  but  at  the  mouth 


all  beauty  ceased :  it  was  an 
unpleasant  mouth,  with  thin, 
very  red  lips.  He  nodded  at 
Euan  indifferently,  and  con- 
tinued his  perusal  of  the  paper. 
Euan  glanced  round  the  mess 
— the  proportions  were  those 
of  a  good-sized  tram-car — and 
at  the  other  end  found  five 
midshipmen,  all  of  his  own 
term,  seated  in  a  row  with  their 
backs  to  the  ship's  side,  whis- 
pering furtively  among  them- 
selves. At  the  sight  of  him 
their  faces  brightened.  They 
grinned  and  made  room  for  him 
in  their  midst,  murmuring  in- 
quiries and  comment  under 
their  breaths.  A  little  apart 
sat  a  newly-joined  Assistant 
Clerk.  He  had  no  friends  :  a 
small,  rather  fat,  pale-faced 
youth  with  eyes  the  colour  of 
gooseberries,  and  not  over- clean 
linen.  Euan  took  comfort  from 
the  sight  of  this  forlorn  crea- 
ture. The  new  midshipmen 
at  all  events  had  a  common 
training  at  the  Naval  College 
and  in  the  Training  Cruiser. 
Naval  tradition  and  comrade- 
ship carried  them  a  long  way 
into  this  unfamiliar  world  of 
the  seagoing  Navy.  But  here 
was  a  mere  schoolboy,  suddenly 
clothed  in  blue  cloth  and  brass 
buttons,  and  translated  with- 
out further  preliminary  into 
the  midst  of  it. 

"  He  was  a  Bluecoat  School 
boy,"  whispered  one  of  Euan's 
companions,  indicating  the  for- 
lorn figure.  "  I  travelled  down 
with  him."  Euan  felt  an  im- 
measurable superiority  to  all 
schoolboys,  and  this  one  in 
particular,  who  had  neither 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


49 


dirk  nor  patches,  but  only  a  thin 
line  of  white  round  his  cuff. 

The  mess  filled  and  emptied  : 
older  midshipmen  came  and 
went ;  another  Sub,  a  broad- 
shouldered,  athletic  -  looking 
figure,  came  in  and  began  a 
conversation  with  the  other 
Sub.  It  appeared  to  refer  to 
some  mutual  acquaintance  of 
the  fair  sex.  Suddenly  he 
glanced  round  at  the  whisper- 
ing novitiates  and  roared — 

"Bread-crumbs,  you  warts !  " 

Some  echo  of  past  teaching 
in  the  Cruiser  prompted  Euan. 
He  thrust  his  fingers  into  his 
ears,  and  the  remainder  fol- 
lowed suit  sheepishly.  The 
Assistant  Clerk  sat  motionless, 
staring  with  his  unblinking 
gooseberry  eyes  at  the  two 
Subs. 

"Come  here,"  said  the  brawny 
Sub.  The  Clerk  obeyed.  He 
had  the  appearance  of  a  fat 
little  guinea-pig.  "  Unhappy 
youth,"  said  the  Sub,  "  you 
will  never  know  how  near  you 
are  to  death.  What  I  have  to 
say  to  this  officer  and  gentle- 
man," he  nodded  at  the  other 
Sub,  "  is  not  for  tender  ears. 
Become  instantly  as  one  having 
ears  that  heareth  not." 

The  Clerk  put  his  fingers  in 
his  ears,  and  the  Subs  con- 
tinued their  conversation.  "  All 
right,"  said  one  presently,  not 
looking  up  or  changing  his 
tone.  "  Take  your  beastly  little 
fingers  out  of  your  ears." 

The  Assistant  Clerk  briskly 
obeyed,  but  the  six  midship- 
men continued  to  sit  deaf  and 
motionless. 

"For   that,"    said   the   Sub 


with  the  unpleasant  mouth, 
"  you  shall  receive  six  of  the 
best  in  due  course." 

"  My  nose  was  itching,"  said 
the  Clerk.  "  I  only " 

"  Silence,  you  little  hog. 
You've  no  business  to  have  a 
nose.  I  shall  make  it  a  dozen." 

"What's  all  this  about 
dozens  ?  "  inquired  a  pleasant 
tenor  voice  in  the  doorway.  A 
tall  cadaverous  figure  with  rim- 
less pince-nez  of  great  thick- 
ness and  untidy  hair  entered 
the  mess.  He  wore  the  single 
gold-and-white  stripe  of  an 
Assistant  Paymaster. 

"  Your  underling  requires 
chastisement,  Harvey,"  said  the 
Sub. 

"  Does  he  ?  "  observed  the 
A.P.  languidly.  "  Then  my 
hand  and  mine  alone  adminis- 
ters it."  He  took  the  little 
Clerk  lightly  by  the  ear  and 
led  him  to  the  doorway.  "  In 
the  meanwhile  he  and  I  will 
commune  awhile  apart  on  the 
mysteries  of  ledgers,  victualling 
accounts,  and  the  ship's  stew- 
ard's breath  which  smells  of 
rum." 

The  morning  passed  with  the 
timeless  bewildering  swiftness 
of  all  unfamiliar  experiences. 
The  Senior  Midshipman  ap- 
peared in  the  mess  about  ten 
o'clock  with  a  watch-and-station 
bill.  He  was  blunt-nosed, 
merry-eyed,  and  had  an  air  of 
being  bowed  beneath  vast  re- 
sponsibilities. He  took  in  the 
six  newcomers  at  a  glance,  and 
flung  down  the  watch-bill  on 
the  table. 

The    older    midshipmen,    to 


50 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


the  number  of  seven  or  eight, 
crowded  round  to  learn  the 
allocation  of  their  new  duties. 
They  had  all  come  on  to  this 
ship  en  bloc  from  a  paid-off 
ship  in  the  Channel  Fleet,  and 
appeared  on  terms  of  noisy 
friendly  intimacy  with  each 
other.  They  all  ignored  the 
six  "  warts,"  but  Euan  thought 
one  or  two  appeared  rather 
self-conscious  after  some  sally 
of  wit  or  outrageous  remark,  as 
if  appreciatively  aware  of  a 
breathless  and  wide-eyed  audi- 
ence. They  were  all  a  year 
or  so  the  senior  of  the  newly- 
joined:  their  monkey-jackets 
were  shiny  about  the  elbows 
and  gaping  in  the  seam  here 
and  there,  the  white  midship- 
men's patches  soiled  with  grime, 
and  the  bottoms  of  their  trou- 
sers, which  most  had  outgrown, 
fringed  with  "  whiskers."  They 
appeared  to  take  pride  in  the 
uncouthness  of  their  appear- 
ance, and  to  regard  the  rents 
of  their  garments  as  the  scars 
of  honourable  internecine  war- 
fare. They  filled  the  mess  with 
their  babble  as  they  crowded 
round  the  watch-bill,  arguing, 
expostulating,  and  chaffing  at 
the  tops  of  their  voices. 

"  Bags  I  the  steam  puncher. 
.  .  .  No,  the  whaler's  a  cow  of 
a  boat.  Why  shouldn't  one 

of    the    warts "      "  Golly  ! 

Four  watches  at  sea  all  the 
way  out  to  Hong-Kong.  That's 
utter  tosh  !  "  "  Who's  Lieu- 
tenant of  my  Division  !  "  "  No, 
I'm  hanged  if  I  do  Tankie 1 
any  more. 


going  to  have  a  doggie  *?  "  2 
"  I  won't  keep  watch  with  that 
ass."  "  Who's  going  to  write 
up  the  leave  book  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dry  up  all  of  you," 
protested  the  Senior  Midship- 
man, round  whom  they  clus- 
tered, arms  encircling  necks 
and  shoulders  like  swarming 
bees  round  their  Queen.  He 
flung  himself  free.  "I'm  going 
to  have  the  Picket  Boat  and 
I'm  doing  Tankie.  That's  all 
about  it.  Now  then  for  the 
warts." 

The  new  midshipmen  found 
themselves  told  off  for  duties 
under  the  supervision  of  their 
seniors.  Euan  was  informed 
that  he  was  Junior  Midshipman 
of  the  Quarter-deck  Division, 
Midshipman  of  the  Laimch,  Mid- 
shipman of  the  after  Upper-deck 
6 -inch  casemate  gun  and  the 
following  forenoon  watch.  All 
these  onerous  responsibilities 
awaited  him  under  the  chaper- 
onage  of  a  senior,  a  hazel-eyed, 
lean-limbed  youth  called  Las- 
celles. 

Lascelles  it  was  who  took 
him  under  his  wing  and  led  him 
to  his  sea-chest.  Euan  un- 
locked it  and  flung  open  the 
lid,  and  obeying  some  vague 
homing  impulse  sat  down  in  its 
shelter.  It  was  by  no  means 
privacy,  for  the  chests  stood  all 
of  a  row  in  a  thoroughfare 
leading  from  the  Marines'  Mess- 
deck.  But  it  contained  all  his 
worldly  possessions,  and  inside 
the  heavy  lid  the  photographs 
of  his  Mother  and  Father, 
home  and  dogs  :  it  was  the 


Assistant  to  Navigating  Officer. 


2  Aide-de-Camp. 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


51 


shrine  of  his  private  life — that 
part  with  which  the  ISTavy  had 
nothing  to  do.  Here  Las- 
celles,  i  with  his  \  instinct  for 
divining  others'  feelings  that 
Euan  was  to  know  so  well  in 
time,  planted  him  to  get  his 
breath. 

His  servant,  whose  services 
he  shared  with  two  others,  was 
a  mountainous  Marine  Artillery- 
man with  a  badly-damaged  nose 
and  a  habit  of  breathing  through 
it  stertorously,  which  added  to 
his  air  of  being  on  the  point  of 
falling  asleep  where  he  stood. 
With  the  aid  of  this  worthy, 
Euan  chose  a  slinging  billet 
for  his  hammock,  two  hooks 
in  the  beams  overhead  at  the 
foot  of  a  hatchway  leading  to 
the  Upper-deck.  The  air  blew 
down  fresh,  and  at  times  the 
rain,  and  spray  of  heavy  seas  ; 
the  traffic  on  the  hatchway 
bumped  his  hammock  as  he 
slept ;  but  all  these  things  fell 
into  their  places  in  time  and 
became  so  inseparably  a  part 
of  his  life  that  when  the  com- 
mission ended  and  he  returned 
home,  the  hush  and  seclusion 


of  his  bedroom  oppressed  him 
with  an  overwhelming  loneli- 
ness, so  that  he  would  wake  at 
nights  straining  his  ears  in  the 
silence,  to  hear  only  the  heavy 
beating  of  his  own  heart. 

In  the  afternoon  the  newly- 
joined  midshipmen  were  given 
leave  to  go  ashore — those  who 
had  friends  to  go  to — until 
10  P.M.  Euan  found  his  Mother 
and  Father  awaiting  him  in 
their  private  sitting-room  at 
the  hotel.  He  felt  as  if  an 
immense  period  of  time  sepa- 
rated that  moment  from  their 
parting  at  the  Dockyard  gates. 
Already  the  Service  had  set 
its  mark  upon  his  forehead : 
the  hotel  and  streets  had  sud- 
denly become  ah" en  territory, 
and  even  his  Mother  and  Father 
seemed  to  have  receded  a  little. 
.  .  .  Eight  hours  only  had 
elapsed  since  he  joined  his 
first  ship ;  but  although  he 
did  not  know  it,  his  heart 
had  commenced  building  up 
round  itself  that  instinctive 
callosity  which  is  the  defence 
of  all  hearts  destined  to  a  life- 
time of  partings. 


in. 


The  sea-road  to  Hong-Kong 
is  a  long  road,  and  the  mile- 
stones on  it  for  outward-bound 
men-of-war  are  Gibraltar,  Malta, 
Port  Said,  Colombo,  and  Singa- 
pore. In  his  official  letter  of 
proceedings  the  Captain  de- 
scribed the  ship's  passage  out 
as  uneventful.  Perhaps  it  was 
from  his  point  of  view.  But  to 
Euan  the  picture-book  of  life 


was  suddenly  flung  open  for 
the  first  time,  presenting  to  his 
delighted  eyes  a  medley  of 
blazing  colour,  a  bewilderment 
of  new  faces  and  new  scenes 
barely  impressed  upon  the  ret- 
ina before  the  page  turned  to 
yield  another.  Gibraltar,  in 
the  hot  Northern  African  sun- 
light, with  its  little  pink  and 
lemon-coloured  houses  drowsing 


52 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


under  the  frown  of  the  Heights, 
drowsing  over  things  imme- 
morial— chain-shot  and  fire- 
ships,  sieges  and  the  flutter 
of  Moorish  pennons.  .  .  .  Euan 
landed  there  alone  to  explore 
the  narrow  noisy  streets  and 
buy  his  father  a  present  of  a 
box  of  cigars.  These  he  pur- 
chased ridiculously  cheap  from 
a  young  woman  with  a  flower 
in  her  glossy  black  hair ;  she 
handed  him  his  purchase,  mur- 
mured something  in  Spanish, 
and  leaning  forward  out  of  the 
shadows  kissed  him  on  the 
cheek. 

In  after  years  he  tried  again 
to  find  the  dim,  cool,  pungent- 
smelling  little  shop,  that  clung 
like  a  swallow's  nest  to  the 
steep  foot  of  the  Eock,  but 
without  success ;  for  the  rest 
of  his  life,  however,  that  first 
light  brush  from  the  fluttering 
wing-tips  of  Romance,  and  the 
frowning  fortress  of  Gibraltar, 
remained  inseparable  in  his 
memory. 

Then  came  Malta,  where  they 
found  the  Mediterranean  Fleet 
at  its  buoys  in  the  Grand  Har- 
bour. They  played  the  Flag- 
ship's Gunroom  at  hockey  be- 
fore breakfast  on  the  sun-baked 
mud  Corridino,  and  at  cricket 
in  the  afternoon  on  an  equally 
sun-baked  Marsa.  The  Junior 
Officers'  Club  extended  its  hos- 
pitality to  these  birds  of  pas- 
sage, and  Euan  drank  shandy- 
gaff in  a  stone-flagged  bar 
crowded  by  noisy  flannel-garbed 
Gunroom  Officers,  and  presided 
over  by  a  one-eyed  Maltese  of 
unutterably  villainous  aspect. 
He  appeared  to  know  by  name 
every  midshipman  in  the  Squad- 


ron (and  it  was  a  large  one  in 
those  days),  and  to  carry  their 
reckonings  in  his  head.  They 
in  their  turn  heaped  indis- 
criminate abuse  upon  him,  but 
with  a  kind  of  affectionate 
proprietorship  in  their  tones, 
proud  of  the  distinction  of 
possessing  a  steward  credited 
by  popular  tradition  with  hav- 
ing slain  his  own  brother  with 
a  cunning  knife  jab.  For  one 
glass  of  Marsala  he  was  always 
willing  to  demonstrate  in  pan- 
tomime the  subtlety  of  the 
upward  twisted  thrust  that 
had  proved  so  efficacious.  .  .  . 
That  to  Euan  was  Malta : 
Malta  of  the  innumerable 
churches  and  their  ever -jan- 
gling bells,  the  mouldering  pal- 
aces, scavenging  goats,  cata- 
combs, and  hooded  women : 
harbourer  of  that  shipwrecked 
mariner  of  old,  St  Paul  the 
Apostle. 

Port  Said  is  the  beginning 
of  the  East,  and  when  Euan 
made  its  acquaintance  for  the 
first  time,  was  trying  to  main- 
tain a  waning  reputation  for 
being  the  Wickedest  Place  in 
the  World.  Its  fame  was  whis- 
pered to  Euan  by  a  junior 
midshipman  whose  brother  was 
in  the  Egyptian  Army.  He 
did  not  specify  the  nature  of 
the  wickedness  that  set  Port 
Said  apart  from  all  the  cities 
of  the  world,  but  Euan  expe- 
rienced a  distinct  thrill  of  curi- 
osity and  excitement  when  he 
landed  and  felt  the  sand  of  the 
Wickedest  Place  in  the  World 
under  his  feet.  He  looked 
about,  expectant  of  nameless 
evil.  It  was  dirty  and  dusty, 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Maldng. 


53 


hot  and  swarming  with  flies. 
Arabs  and  Levantines  impor- 
tuned him  on  all  sides  to  buy 
trashy  "  curios  "  ;  scabrous  beg- 
gars whined  for  charity  ;  little 
wicked  -  looking  boys  showed 
white  teeth  in  impish  grins 
beneath  their  fezes ;  but  for 
the  rest  he  might  have  spent 
the  afternoon  in  a  Cathedral 
Close,  and  on  reaching  the  jetty 
to  embark  in  the  boat  again, 
for  the  first  and  last  time  in 
the  course  of  his  Naval  Career, 
was  tendered  a  tract  by  a 
severe-looking  lady  in  a  grey 
alpaca  dress  and,  to  complete 
the  anti- climax,  elastic -sided 
boots. 

Colombo  came  like  an  oasis 
after  the  breathless  heat  of  the 
Bed  Sea.  Here  Euan  made  his 
first  acquaintance  with  the  rick- 
shaw, and  experienced  that 
pompously  exalted  condition 
of  the  mind  peculiar  to  those 
who  find  themselves  seated  at 
ease  and  being  propelled  by 
the  sole  agency  of  a  sweating 
fellow-human.  The  Galle  Face 
Hotel,  with  its  punkahs  and 
cool  drinks,  swimming-bath,  and 
curries  of  a  thousand  spiced 
ingredients,  sent  him  back  to 
his  ship  gorged  and  penniless 
till  next  pay-day.  But  in  after 
years  he  never  saw  a  sailor 
plunged  in  reckless  carousal 
ashore,  or  return  on  board 
with  bloodshot  eye  and  hag- 
gard countenance,  without  a 
quick  thrill  of  sympathetic  com- 
prehension :  if  it  taught  him 
nothing  more,  the  money  was 
not  ill-spent. 

The  long  hot  trip  through 
the  Bed  Sea  and  Indian  Ocean 
gave  Euan  time  to  sort  out  his 


impressions  and,  to  use  a  Naval 
idiom,  shake  down.  He  got 
to  know  the  Officers  by  sight 
and  name,  and  most  of  the 
men  in  his  Division.  He  break- 
fasted, in  company  with  an- 
other "wart, "as  the  guest  of  the 
Admiral,  and  it  being  his  first 
introduction  to  an  Admiral  at 
close  quarters,  experienced  a 
faint  surprise  at  discovering  that 
he  ate  his  food  just  like  an  or- 
dinary mortal,  and  talked  with 
grave  interested  friendliness  to 
both  frightened  boys.  He  was 
a  tall,  bony,  grey-bearded  man 
with  craggy  eyebrows,  rather 
bowed  about  the  shoulders  as  if 
the  arduous  years  of  long  foreign 
commissions  had  wearied  him 
into  a  premature  acceptance 
of  old  age.  He  was  a  Knight 
Commander  in  three  great  Or- 
ders, a  Baronet,  a  bachelor,  and 
(so  said  his  coxswain)  a  woman- 
hater.  The  Flag-Captain  was 
a  less  awesome  figure.  When 
he  spoke,  it  was  as  if  he  were 
restraining  himself  with  diffi- 
culty from  a  habit,  learned 
young,  of  conveying  orders 
through  a  gale  at  sea.  Lean 
and  dark  he  was,  saturnine 
almost,  with  an  expressive  mo- 
bile face,  and  a  mannerism  of 
brushing  the  tip  of  his  nose 
with  his  forefinger  when  he  was 
amused.  The  Secretary  and 
Flag  -  Lieutenant  shared  the 
meal.  The  former  appeared 
to  suffer  from  chronic  dyspep- 
sia, and  ate  slowly  in  silence 
as  if  preoccupied  with  unheard 
voices.  The  Flag-Lieutenant, 
who  turned  out  early  and  did 
physical  drill  with  the  midship- 
men, glowed  with  health  and 
vitality.  His  was  a  merry  soul 


54 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


without  affectation  or  "  side," 
and  once  or  twice  Euan  saw 
the  Admiral's  regard  pass 
over  him  with  a  kind  of  wistful 
paternal  affection.  .  .  . 

So  much  for  the  "Cuddy." 
The  Wardroom  was  a  big  one, 
and  it  was  a  long  time  before 
Euan  learned  to  know  them 
all.  He  did  in  time,  of  course, 
with  that  intense  startling  in- 
sight into  their  characters  and 
dispositions  which  the  Gun- 
room always  possesses  about 
the  Wardroom,  and  which  the 
latter  accepts  without  emotion. 

There  was  "  Wanky  Willy  " 
the  First  Lieutenant,  who  some- 
times drank  rather  more  port 
than  was  good  for  him — any- 
how when  there  was  an  "  occa- 
sion "  in  the  mess  ;  and  when 
there  wasn't  he  invented  one. 
There  was  the  old  Major  of 
Marines,  who  had  fought  in 
the  Soudan,  and  was  apt  to 
find  the  fact  difficult  to  keep 
out  of  conversation.  His  Sub- 
altern, a  brilliant  linguist  and 
mathematician,  possessed  the 
type  of  good  looks  dear  to  both 
men  and  women — a  sort  of 
whimsical,  reckless,  unconscious 
charm  of  countenance,  marred 
a  little  perhaps  by  that  in- 
eradicable crease  running  down 
from  each  nostril  which  is  the 
result  of  lore  acquired  in  Con- 
tinental capitals  more  easily 
than  the  language  of  the  coun- 
try. 

The  Fleet  Surgeon  was  an 
ex  -  rugby  international  and 
amateur  heavy-weight,  with  a 
treacherous  knee-joint  and  a 
broken  nose,  and,  incidentally, 
a  heart  (it  was  rumoured) 
some  woman  had  made  to 


share  the  fate  of  his  nose. 
It  was  before  the  era  of  the 
married  Naval  Officer,  and  in 
a  Wardroom  boasting  upwards 
of  twenty-five  members  the 
Engineer  Commander  was  the 
only  married  man.  It  set  him 
apart  from  the  remainder  of 
the  mess,  a  figure  of  envy  to 
some,  compassion  to  others. 
He  was  a  bearded,  silent,  con- 
scientious Officer,  who,  when 
not  below  among  his  engines 
or  in  the  office,  seemed  to  spend 
most  of  his  spare  time  in  his 
cabin  writing  to  his  wife.  An- 
other who  shared  this  troglo- 
dyte tendency  was  the  Pay- 
master. But  he,  when  the 
last  entry  in  his  cash  account 
was  made  and  his  day's  work 
done,  would  softly  close  his 
cabin  door.  Then  from  a  shelf 
overhead  he  lifted  an  old  brown 
violin  from  its  case,  snuggled 
it  lovingly  under  his  chin,  and, 
seated  cross-legged  on  his  bunk, 
drew  from  the  muted  strings  a 
thin  stream  of  tender  melody 
that  carried  his  soul  into  some 
realm  of  enchantment  all  its 
own — where  the  chink  of  coin 
and  the  scratching  of  a  pen 
on  paper  ruled  vertically  with 
faint  red  lines,  must  have 
sounded,  if  he  heard  them  at 
all,  very  far  away. 

There  were  the  "  specialist  " 
Officers,  too :  the  Navigating 
Commander,  in  whose  anatomy 
steel  wire  took  the  place  of 
nerves,  and  whose  fund  of 
unreproducible  anecdote  was 
unequalled  in  the  Navy.  It 
was  at  the  time  of  the  great 
renaissance  of  Naval  Gunnery, 
and  the  wave  of  sombre  en- 
thusiasm-; that  swept  through 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


55 


the  whole  Navy  and  was  des- 
tined to  break  in  triumph  off 
the  shores  of  Jutland,  carried  on 
its  forming  crest  the  Gunnery 
Lieutenant.  He  was  deemed 
a  visionary  in  those  days, 
prophet  of  an  untried  creed, 
that  of  overwhelming  a  target 
with  an  accurately  synchron- 
ised broadside.  .  .  .  His  en- 
thusiasm devoured  him  like  a 
flame.  He  read  Gunnery,  talked 
Gunnery,  dreamed  Gunnery. 
And  the  gods  of  war  must  have 
loved  him  for  it,  because  when, 
ten  years  later,  they  called 
him  to  his  Watch  Below,  he 
went  ungrudgingly,  with  the 
roar  of  the  British  guns  in  his 
ears,  conscious  that  his  life's 
work  had  not  been  in  vain. 

Eager-eyed,  slim -wristed,  long 
of  limb  and  finger,  the  Torpedo 
Lieutenant  united  the  small 
features  and  delicately  -  cut 
mouth  of  a  woman  with  an 
almost  desperate  physical  cour- 
age. In  all  after-dinner  horse- 
play, in  every  emergency  or 
test  of  endurance,  he  was  fore- 
most amongst  the  Wardroom 
hotheads.  Him,  too,  the  Bed 
Gods  grew  to  love  overwell  in 
time,  but  both  stories  belong 
to  the  category  of  "  War  stuff," 
which  nobody  wants  to  read 
nowadays. 

There  were  four  Watch-keep- 
ing Lieutenants  and  two  Engin- 
eer Lieutenants.  Of  the  latter, 
one  loved  beer  not  wisely  at 
all,  which  in  a  tropical  climate 
is  taking  on  big  odds.  He  was 
a  martyr  to  prickly  heat,  and 
painted  engagingly  in  water- 
colours.  The  other  gave  no 
outward  manifestation  of  loving 
anything  or  anybody.  A  silent 


introspective  man  with  leanings 
towards  Socialism  and  Political 
Economy  in  leisure  moments. 
Down  below  in  the  hell-glare 
of  the  furnaces  and  among  the 
sobbing  racket  of  main  and 
auxiliary  machinery  he  was  a 
relentless  slave-driver,  and  not 
beloved  of  his  men. 

One  watch-keeper  has  been 
described  already.  Of  the  other 
three,  one  was  short  and  dark, 
passionately  addicted  to  horses, 
with  an  inexplicable  preference 
for  caps  a  size  too  small  for  him, 
which  he  wore  with  the  peak 
tilted  well  over  his  right  eye. 
The  other  two  were  the  Damon 
and  Pythias  of  the  mess — only 
recently  promoted  to  Lieu- 
tenants, and  once  in  the  same 
term.  The  senior  had  sandy 
eyelashes  and  a  nose  like  a 
button — boxing  enthusiast  and 
devotee  of  physical  training. 
The  other  was  chiefly  remark- 
able for  the  bloodless  pallor  of 
his  face,  absolutely  perfect 
teeth,  and  a  slight  tendency  to 
bow-leggedness. 

I  have  been  at  some  pains 
to  sketch  in  crude  outline  the 
Wardroom  rather  than  the  Gun- 
room, in  this  endeavour  to 
trace  the  development  of  Euan's 
character  on  the  road  to  man- 
hood, because  the  eyes  of  boy- 
hood are  fixed,  not  on  his 
contemporaries  or  his  environ- 
ment, but  on  those  who  are 
on  the  .higher  rungs  of  the 
ladder.  These  he  strives  to 
ape  and^  emulate ;  these — or 
rather  a  composite  impression 
of  them  all  —  provided  the 
mould  into  which  Euan  ardently 
pressed  the  plastic  material  of 


56 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


his  own  personality.  The  result, 
ere  it  attained  "  the  full  stature 
of  its  perfection,"  was  what 
you  can  imagine.  Unsightly 
and  useless  protuberances  here 
and  there,  idle  tricks,  vain  be- 
liefs, a  whole  lot  of  superflu- 
ities adhered  to  what  was  in 
the  main  a  manly,  courageous, 
wholesome  model.  But  this  is 
where  his  environment  played 


its  peculiar  part.  In  the  Argus- 
eyed,  unimpassioned  criticism 
of  contemporaries,  the  ceaseless 
friction  of  the  day's  work  and 
routine,  the  standards  of  tradi- 
tion and  caste  ever  passing 
over  him,  all  excrescences  were 
worn  away  in  time.  And  what 
remained  the  mallet  and  chisel 
of  Naval  Discipline  dealt  with 
ruthlessly  and  well. 


IV. 


From  Singapore  to  the  sun- 
rise beyond  Japan  may  be 
said  to  lie  the  Far  East.  It 
has  a  peculiar  quality  of  its 
own  that  has  been  described 
as  glamour  ;  but  the  word  has 
not  yet  been  coined  that  com- 
bines all  its  witchery,  its  brutal 
rawness,  and  its  infinite  seduc- 
tion. No  man,  however  world- 
seasoned,  however  unrespon- 
sive to  "  atmosphere,"  has  been 
there  without  acknowledging 
its  spell  —  or  has  not  left  it 
infinitely  wiser,  and  sometimes 
very  much  sadder,  than  when 
he  went  there. 

Naval  routine  swung  through 
its  daily  orbit  on  board  the 
Flagship  of  the  China  Squadron 
along  much  the  same  lines  that 
it  followed  in  the  Channel  Fleet, 
in  the  Mediterranean,  Australia, 
or  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope 
Squadrons  ;  and  this  alone,  in 
the  midst  of  Oriental  languor, 
the  loves,  intrigues,  and  pas- 
sions of  the  incomprehensible 
Bast,  preserved  for  Euan  that 
link  with  his  boyhood  from 
which  the  rest  might  have 
weaned  him  too  fast  for  his 
soul's  good. 


At  6.15  A.M.  daily  he  tumbled 
out  of  his  hammock  ;  tousle- 
haired  and  sleepy-eyed  he  pulled 
on  flannel  trousers  and  vest, 
and  in  company  with  a  dozen 
other  similarly  tousle  -  haired 
young  gentlemen  proceeded  to 
perform  on  the  Quarter-deck  a 
series  of  breathless  contortions 
known  colloquially  as  "  phy- 
sics." They  were  conducted 
in  the  shade  of  the  awning  by 
the  Junior  Watch-keeper,  whose 
thews  were  his  religion,  and 
who  delighted  in  a  man's  legs 
above  all  the  rest  of  the  wonder- 
ful works  of  God. 

"  First  position !  Arms 
ra-a-a-ise  !  Knees  be-e-e-end. 
Arms  stretching  —  One  !  .  .  . 
Two  !  One  !  .  .  .  Two  ! 
That's  the  style !  More  gin- 
ger !  One !  Two !  Knees 
stre-e-etch  ..." 

And  so  on,  while  all  round 
them  the  indifferent  unchanging 
East  smiled  drowsily  at  another 
morn,  and  a  couple  of  miles 
away,  amid  a  jumble  of  curly 
dragon-crested  roofs  that  lifted 
their  gables  above  the  battle- 
ments of  a  Chinese  walled  city, 
an  opium-sodden  Taoti  pointed 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


67 


a  shaking  finger  and  sent  a 
wretch  cowering  in  chains  be- 
fore him  to  torture  and  death. 

Physics  ended,  ensued  a  hel- 
ter-skelter stampede  to  the 
bathroom.  In  an  apartment 
whose  available  floor  space 
measured  perhaps  14  feet  by 
10,  a  dozen  nude  sweating 
figures  splashed  in  circular  tin- 
baths,  shaved,  squabbled,  sang, 
and  brushed  their  teeth  in 
noisy  camaraderie.  Then  came 
breakfast.  Ashore  in  these 
climes  "  whisky-stinger  "  is  the 
favoured  breakfast  amongst 
those  whom  the  morning  finds 
shouldering  for  another  day 
the  White  Man's  Burden.  But 
the  Navy  does  not  drink  before 
the  sun  is  "  over  the  foreyard," 
whether  it  finds  itself  on  the 
Equator  or  in  the  proximity 
of  either  Pole.  Breakfast  in 
the  Gunroom  included  porridge, 
eggs -and -bacon,  and  marma- 
lade, as  inevitably  as  the  White 
Ensign  was  hoisted  at  8  A.M. 
Euan,  as  befitted  his  humble 
status  in  the  mess,  was  re- 
sponsible that  the  cockroaches 
which  swarmed  darkly  about 
the  bulkhead  and  overhead 
beams  did  not  invade  the  Subs' 
coffee  or  their  plates. 

At  9  A.M.  the  Ship's  Company 
was  mustered  at  Divisions  on 
the  Upper-deck,  and  when  Euan 
had  called  out  each  man's 
name  in  the  Quarter-deck  Divi- 
sion (it  was  six  months  before 
he  could  do  it  from  memory), 
and  the  Lieutenant  of  his  Divi- 
sion had  inspected  them  (Euan 
at  his  elbow  with  pencil  and 
notebook),  the  band  struck  up 
"  Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave,"  and 
the  Ship's  Company  marched 


aft  to  prayers.  The  Chaplain, 
who  was  also  Naval  Instructor, 
read  prayers  ;  they  always  con- 
cluded with  the  one  set  apart 
for  the  Navy's  especial  use, 
in  which  the  sailorman  pathetic- 
ally intercedes  with  the  Omni- 
potent to  be  allowed  to  "  return 
in  safety  to  enjoy  the  blessings 
of  the  land."  Truly  a  sailor's 
prayer. 

Then  the  Midshipmen,  herded 
by  their  senior  as  a  sheep-dog 
worries  a  flock  through  a  nar* 
row  gap,  assembled  in  the 
school  place.  It  was  only  a 
varnished  deal  table  on  the  aft 
deck  with  forms  on  either  side, 
enclosed  by  a  canvas  screen. 
But  here  they  wrestled  daily 
until  noon  with  the  theory  of 
navigation  and  spherical  trigo- 
nometry, physics  and  dynamics, 
and  the  peculiarities  of  forces 
acting  along  an  inclined  plane. 

The  Padre,  to  whom  they 
yielded  a  grudging  sort  of  sub- 
mission during  these  sweltering 
hours,  understood  to  a  nicety 
the  temper  of  the  very  mixed 
team  he  drove,  not  without 
success,  along  the  uphill  road 
to  knowledge.  Undiluted  higher 
mathematics  is  apt  to  give 
mental  indigestion  to  its  vic- 
tims in  time  ;  there  were  morn- 
ings when,  after  a  cursory 
glance  round  the  table  at  the 
moist  vacant  faces  and  wander- 
ing eyes,  the  Padre  would  sweep 
a  duster  over  the  blackboard 
with  a  gesture  of  finality.  Then 
sitting  down  on  a  corner  of  the 
table,  with  one  leg  swinging 
and  the  chalk  twisting  in  his 
dusty  fingers,  he  would  talk 
to  them  of  other  things.  Chi- 
nese philosophy  or  the  Pyra- 


58 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


mids,  the  theory  of  music, 
gyroscopes,  or  bees, — it  was 
always  a  fresh  subject,  always 
absorbingly  interesting.  They 
never  knew  the  hours  of  leisure 
he  devoted  to  reading  up  these 
topics,  and  never  did  he  impart 
the  fruits  of  his  labour  with 
the  air  of  being  wiser  than  his 
hearers,  or  of  reckoning  all 
this  patiently  acquired  know- 
ledge unto  himself  for  righteous- 
ness. A  bristly-bearded  spec- 
tacled little  man  with  a  rather 
high  tenor  voice  and  a  man- 
ner that  managed  to  combine 
humility  and  firmness,  Euan 
learned  more  from  him  than 
he  realised  till  long  afterwards. 
He  grew  fond  of  him,  as  indeed 
they  all  were,  with  a  half-con- 
temptuous hypercritical  affec- 
tion. But  when  the  commis- 
sion came  to  an  end,  and  they 
all  returned  to  the  fulfilment 
of  their  daily  prayer,  he  never 
saw  or  heard  of  the  little  Padre 
again. 

Dinner  came  at  noon,  and 
after  that,  until  1.10  P.M. — or 
3.30  P.M.  in  the  hottest  parts 
of  the  station — the  hour  was 
sacred  to  the  individual 
throughout  the  ship.  All  rou- 
tine was  in  suspension,  and 
the  Gunroom  betook  itself  to 
the  shade  of  the  after-sponson 
or  shelter  -  deck,  where  it 
sprawled,  smoked,  read,  or 
dozed,  and  none  harried  so 
much  (or  so  little)  as  a  junior 
midshipman.  When,  an  hour 
later,  the  brisk  notes  of  the 
bugle  shattered  the  universal 
lethargy  of  the  ship,  relent- 
lessly jerking  to  their  feet  both 
Officers  and  Men,  there  was 


more  instruction  for  the  mid- 
shipmen. This  time  it  was  of 
a  less  theoretical  nature — 
"  stripping  "  down  the  breech 
of  a  6-inch  gun,  racing,  fore- 
mast against  mainmast,  hoists 
of  manreuvring  signals  to  the 
masthead  ;  ship  -  construction 
with  the  Carpenter,  when  they 
crawled  and  sweated  in  the 
double-bottoms,  committing  to 
memory  the  whereabouts  of 
fresh-water  tanks  and  man- 
holes, water-tight  doors  and 
transverse  frames.  Under  the 
guidance  of  the  old  Boatswain 
(who  boasted  the  frayed  medal 
ribbon  of  the  Zulu  War,  and 
claimed  to  be  the  last  man  in 
the  Navy  to  wear  it)  they 
brushed  up  such  knowledge  of 
cable  work  as  the  amazingly 
complete  working  model  in  the 
Britannia  had  given  them.  With 
the  Torpedo  Lieutenant  they 
stood  in  a  semicircle  round  the 
dynamo,  mesmerised  by  the 
drone  of  its  revolving  arma- 
tures, and  learned  how  a  ship 
is  lit  and  ventilated.  In  sweat- 
darkened  overalls  they  "  rove 
steam  "  with  the  assistance  of 
one  of  the  Engineer  Lieuten- 
ants, and  stoked,  or  took  to 
pieces  some  piece  of  auxiliary 
machinery  undergoing  repair. 
It  was  a  catholic  syllabus, 
leaving  much  to  the  individual 
whether  he  listened  and  learned, 
using  his  eyes  and  intelligence, 
or  whether  he  lazed  and  kept 
in  the  rear  of  the  class,  think- 
ing of  other  things.  The  cram- 
mer-bred came  off  second-best 
in  these  hours  of  free-and-easy 
instruction.  They  had  been 
accustomed  to  sit  passive  and 
neutral  while  unrelated  facts 


1921.J 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


69 


were  forced  into  their  memories, 
and  the  lid  squeezed  down  on 
top  of  everything  till  examina- 
tion day.  But  Euan  had  mer- 
cifully never  experienced  the 
system,  and  had  sufficient  imag- 
ination to  realise  that  now  was 
the  time  or  never  to  absorb 
the  practical  A  B  0  of  his 
life's  profession.  He  had  a 
retentive  memory  and  a  bent 
for  things  mechanical,  which 
are  but  mathematics  after  all, 


in  a  congealed  form.  He  was 
easily  first  of  his  term  in  the 
annual  midshipmen's  examina- 
tion held  in  the  Fleet,  and  in 
due  course  received  from  his 
father  two  crisp  five-pound 
notes — one  to  buy  something 
useful  with,  and  the  other  to 
"  buy  sweets  with,"  according 
to  parental  injunctions.  Euan 
spent  it  in  having  a  curly 
red-and-blue  dragon  tattooed 
on  his  skinny  left  arm. 


V. 


Mention  has  already  been 
made  of  Lascelles.  He  was  a 
senior  midshipman,  and  for 
the  first  six  months  of  the  com- 
mission Euan  kept  watch  under 
his  tutelage,  occupying  much 
the  same  relation  to  him  as  a 
fag  does  to  a  sixth-form  boy 
at  school.  It  was  Lascelles 
who  initiated  him  into  intri- 
cacies of  the  routine  board,  a 
printed  time-table  hanging  out- 
side the  Commander's  cabin, 
that  regulated  the  work  of  the 
hands  from  hour  to  hour 
throughout  the  working  day. 
Upon  the  Midshipman  of  the 
Watch  rested  the  responsibility 
of  seeing  that  the  lives  of  close 
on  a  thousand  men  moved  in 
accordance  with  this  schedule, 
each  change  being  duly  re- 
ported to  the  Officer  of  the 
Watch  (who  yawned,  and  said 
"  Carry  on "),  and  was  con- 
veyed to  the  rest  of  the  ship- 
world  by  the  pipe  and  bawl  of 
the  Boatswain's  Mate  or  the 
strident  note  of  the  bugle.  In 
this  way  Euan  learned  the 
delicate  adjustment  of  the  vast 


human  machine  around  him 
that  was  never  entirely  at  rest, 
and  how  lack  of  foresight  or  a 
single  moment  of  forgetfulness 
could  plunge  the  Upper-deck  in 
chaos  or  send  a  boat's  crew 
dinnerless. 

He  was  entrusted  with  writ- 
ing up  the  deck-log,  in  which 
is  recorded  the  humdrum  events 
of  daily  life  on  board  ship,  the 
state  of  the  weather,  the  va- 
garies of  the  barometer,  and 
the  temperature  of  the  sea. 
He  was  expected  to  be  a 
mine  of  information  on  these 
subjects,  and  to  answer  with- 
out hesitation  when  asked 
"  what  the  glass  was  doing  " 
or  the  direction  of  the  wind. 
Without  knowing  it,  he  de- 
veloped in  this  way  the  mys- 
terious sixth  sense  of  the  sea- 
man, who  is  affected  more  by 
the  fall  of  the  barometer  as  a 
general  rule  than  the  eclipse  of 
a  dynasty.  He  learned  other 
things  from  Lascelles  :  the  art 
of  brewing  cocoa  in  the  chart- 
house  during  the  middle  watch  ; 
the  names  of  stars  and  planets 


60 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


and  how  to  find  them  in  the 
glowing  confusion  of  the  tropic 
night  sky  ;  the  dodges  whereby 
a  skulker  can  avoid  mustering 
with  the  watch  ;  the  quickest 
and  surest  way  to  reach  the 
seaboat  first  at  the  sudden  pipe, 
"  Away  seaboat's  crew  !  "  that 
sent  fifteen  men  in  a  rush  to 
the  cutter  at  the  davits  once 
in  each  watch  at  sea.  He 
shared  many  vigils  with  Las- 
celles  :  humid  middle  watches 
in  the  Malay  Archipelago,  when 
there  was  little  to  do  and  they 
talked  (would  that  I  could 
tell  you  half  the  things  those 
boyish  hearts  revealed  and 
shared)  to  keep  themselves 
awake.  "  Pannicky  "  forenoon 
watches  in  Hong -Kong  har- 
bour, when  there  was  a  coming 
and  going  of  Post  -  Captains 
in  their  galleys  and  much  piping 
of  the  side.  Cold  grey  morning 
watches  off  the  coast  of  Tar- 
tary,  long  (Lord,  how  long !) 
afternoons  under  the  Quarter- 
deck awning,  with  the  Quarter- 
deckmen  rubbing  drowsily  at 
bright  work,  and  the  glare  from 
the  water  dancing  in  reflection 
on  the  burnished  muzzles  of 
the  barbette  guns. 

Lascelles,  whose  time  for 
passing  for  Sub-Lieutenant  was 
drawing  near,  imparted  to  his 
satellite  during  these  hours  the 
sum  of  nearly  three  crowded 
years'  experience  of  midship- 
man life.  It  goes  without 
saying  that  much  went  in  at 
one  of  Euan's  small  ears  and 
came  out  at  the  other.  He 
had  to  learn,  as  Lascelles  had 
learned  most  of  his  lesson,  by 
bitter  experience,  and  not  a 
little  was  the  fruit  of  physical 


pain.  The  Lieutenant  of  his 
watch  suffered  no  fool  gladly, 
and  before  Euan  had  been  a 
month  on  board  handed  him 
his  signet-ring  in  the  course  of 
a  hectic  forenoon  watch  and 
bade  him  take  it  to  the  Sub. 
That  officer  rose  lazily  from  the 
only  arm-chair  the  mess  boast- 
ed, put  the  ring  in  his  pocket, 
and  selected  a  flexible  rattan 
cane  from  the  rack. 

"  You've  been  making  a  fool 
of  yourself  on  watch  ?  " 

Euan  reddened.  "  I  forgot 
to  call  away  the  picket-boat 
to  bring  off  the  Commander." 

"  Quite  so.    Smell  the  spot." 

There  was  no  spot  to  smell 
in  actual  reality,  but  the  in- 
vitation held  good  neverthe- 
less. Euan  knelt  on  the  settee 
with  his  nose  flattened  against 
the  surface  of  the  table,  in  an 
attitude  undignified  but  emi- 
nently appropriate  to  the  busi- 
ness in  hand. 

The  Sub  stepped  back  a 
pace,  measured  his  surround- 
ings with  the  rattan  to  ensure 
a  free  swing,  and  passed  the 
tip  of  his  tongue  over  his 
thin  lips.  ..."  Tighter  than 
that.  .  .  ." 

The  ensuing  fifteen  seconds 
passed  more  slowly  and  pain- 
fully than  any  period  of  time 
Euan  remembered  in  his  brief 
existence. 

"...  Eight  you  are ;  get 
back  on  watch  and  give  '  Tin 
Eye '  back  his  ring."  The 
executioner  rang  the  bell  and 
ordered  a  cocktail.  Lascelles 
grinned  sympathetically  when 
Euan  reappeared,  rather  white, 
with  a  queer  hiccupy  desire 
to  sob  somewhere  in  his  throat. 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


61 


How    many    did    he    give    in  my  pyjamas  from  the  Sub 


you  ?  " 

"  Six." 

"  That's   nothing.     When 
was  a  wart  I  had  to  turn  out    cursed  to  blazes  by  the  Com- 
and  take  a  dozen  and  a  half    mander." 


to  amuse  one  of  his  guests 
after  dinner.  'Sides,  you  de- 
served it.  '  Tin  Eye  '  got 


VI. 


Euan  worked  his  way  up- 
wards from  the  Captaincy  of 
the  Whaler  (that  "  cow  of  a 
boat  "  under  sail)  to  the  wheel 
of  one  of  the  picket-boats,  and 
it  took  him  fifteen  months  to 
get  there.  He  learned  in  the 
process  pretty  well  all  there 
was  to  know  about  service 
boat-sailing,  and  the  boy  who 
knows  that  by  eighteen  has 
travelled  a  long  way.  He  grew 
accustomed  to  backing  a  whaler 
in  through  a  wicked  surf,  grop- 
ing along  tortuous  channels 
with  lead-line  and  luck  alone 
to  guide  him  into  an  unknown 
harbour.  He  knew  what  it 
was  to  bring  off  a  launch-load 
of  uproarious  liberty-men  under 
sail,  and  once  at  Shan-hi-Kwan 
(where  the  Great  Wall  of  China 
runs  down  to  the  coast)  he 
brought  off  a  shooting-party 
in  the  teeth  of  a  rising  Pacific 
gale,  nursing  his  cutter  five 
miles  to  windward  to  reach 
the  ship. 

He  did  not  know  that  these 
arduous  months  were  designed 
to  give  him  self-confidence  and 
a  power  of  command.  He  did 
not  know  that  Olympian  eyes 
were  upon  him  most  of  the 
time,  sometimes  through  a 
telescope  when  he  was  away 
under  sail,  sometimes  through 
a  scuttle  when  he  brought 


his  boat  alongside.  He  only 
knew  that  as  time  went  on  he 
appeared  to  have  heavier  re- 
sponsibilities thrust  upon  his 
young  shoulders  :  to  be  chosen 
for  the  more  unpleasant  night 
work  in  uncharted  harbours  ; 
to  receive  a  larger  proportion 
of  scallywags  in  his  boat's 
crew  to  lick  into  shape.  .  .  . 
None  of  these  things  came  to 
him  in  the  light  of  compliments. 
But  there  came  a  day  when 
piracy  in  the  West  Eiver  as- 
sumed vexatious  proportions, 
and  the  Great  Powers,  weary- 
ing of  protest,  announced  their 
intention  of  patrolling  the  in- 
land waterways  themselves. 
Then  the  Commander  sent  for 
Euan.  It  happened  to  be  his 
eighteenth  birthday,  and  he 
was  growing  fast,  brown  and 
angular,  lean  as  a  young  hound. 
To  his  surprise  the  Commander 
rested  his  hand  lightly  on  his 
shoulder.  The  blue  eyes  held 
his  with  an  almost  fierce  ap- 
probation. 

"M'Neil  — you  think  I've 
been  a  brute  to  you,  don't 
you  I  "  He  gave  the  boy  a 
little  shake,  and  something  like 
a  smile  lurked  about  his  bearded 
mouth. 

Euan  flushed  brick  red.  "  Er 
— Sir,  no,  not  specially " 

Again  the  Commander  shook 


62 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


him  gently.  "  I've  worked 
you  like  a  black,  haven't  I  ?  " 

"  WeU,  sir  ...  sometimes — 
a  bit " 

"  And  you  thought  I  was 
merely  slave-driving  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  I  thought 
about  it  much  one  way  or 
the  other,  sir." 

The  Commander  released  his 
shoulder,  and  picked  up  some 
papers  from  his  desk.  "  I 
didn't  leave  you  much  time 
to  think,  I  fancy.  Here  are 
the  orders  for  the  West  Eiver 
Patrol.  Take  'em  away  and 
read  them.  I'm  going  to  send 
you  to  patrol  the  creeks  with 
an  armed  pinnace  under  the 
orders  of  a  Lieutenant  in  the 
picket-boat.  There  are  Mid- 
shipmen senior  to  you  in  the 
ship  who'll  be  disappointed. 
But  I've  chosen  you.  See  to 
it  that  I'm  not  disappointed. 
You'll  be  away  some  weeks,  on 
your  own  a  lot  of  the  time. 
That's  all." 

Euan  returned  to  his  ship 
five  weeks  later,  more  sun- 
burned than  ever,  and  grown, 
in  some  indefinable  way,  more 
self-contained  and  less  com- 
municative. To  the  Gunroom 
who  thirsted  for  details,  he 
admitted  having  seen  no  pir- 
ates, but  had  shot  a  great 


many  snipe  and  wild-fowl,  and 
had  a  topping  time.  That  was 
all  they  ever  learned  of  Euan's 
first  command. 

Prom  the  Lieutenant  in 
charge  of  the  expedition  the 
Commander  heard  a  good  deal 
more  than  Euan's  prowess  with 
a  12-bore. 

He  listened  without  com- 
ment from  behind  pipe-smoke 
till  the  Lieutenant  finished ; 
then  he  gave  a  little  grunt  of 
approval.  "  He's  a  good  lad, 
that  boy.  I  hunted  him  till 
he  sweated  blood,  and  he  never 
squeaked.  Now,  unless  I'm 
mistaken,  he'll  hunt  himself. 
Once  that  begins  you  can  say 
a  boy  is  in  a  fair  way  to  making 
good.  Keep  an  eye  on  him 
and  see  he  keeps  within 
limits.  Once  he  starts  -  in 
that  type  has  no  mercy  on 
himself." 

And  sure  enough  as  the 
Commander  had  foretold,  Euan 
found  himself  for  the  first 
time  with  the  road  ahead 
opening  up  clear — a  road  that 
could  only  be  traversed  by 
desperate  hard  work  and  con- 
centration, a  long  journey  over 
formidable  heights  and  treach- 
erous levels,  past  a  whole  mul- 
titude of  failures  fallen  by  the 
wayside.  And  the  goal  was 
Flag  Bank — no  less. 


vn. 


This  sketch  would  be  in- 
complete without  passing  refer- 
ence to  that  mysterious,  entic- 
ing, and  almost  remote  world 


be  left  to  the  reader  to  decide 
how  much  "  seeing  life "  in- 
fluenced that  immature  soul 
to  permanent  weal  or  woe, 


Euan  grew  accustomed  to  refer    but  I  am  inclined  to  think  its 
to  as  "  the  Beach."     It  must    effect  bore  the  same  relation 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


63 


to  his  ultimate  development 
as  the  brush  of  the  artist  does 
to  the  product  of  the  potter's 
wheel.  That  is  to  say,  it  was 
superficial,  and  the  degree  of 
adornment  or  defacement  im- 
parted thereby  always  liable 
to  obliteration.  .  .  . 

But  "  Life "  he  certainly 
did  see — crude,  naked,  and 
savagely  assertive — sometimes 
with  shame,  at  other  times  with 
fear,  more  often  with  merri- 
ment or  ardent  curiosity. 

On  special  occasions  junior 
midshipmen  were  allowed  to 
dine  ashore  with  friends,  and 
one  of  Euan's  contemporaries 
took  advantage  of  the  presence 
at  an  hotel  ashore  of  a  globe- 
trotting uncle  and  aunt,  to 
invite  Euan  to  dinner.  It  was 
about  ten  o'clock  when  they 
took  leave  of  their  host  and 
hostess,  and  stepped  into  a 
double  rickshaw. 

"  Go  ahead,  John  !  "  said 
Euan  magnificently  to  the 
coolie.  He  leaned  back  puffing 
at  his  cigarette,  complacently 
assured  that  the  coolie  knew 
they  were  midshipmen  from 
the  Flagship,  and  would  con- 
vey them  to  the  wharf  without 
further  parley — which  last  was 
indeed  out  of  the  question, 
since  the  coolie  knew  no  word 
of  English. 

The  stars  overhead  blazed 
like  angry  white  jewels ;  the 
warm  air  was  pregnant  with 
the  smells  of  the  East ;  on 
either  side  of  the  dusty  road 
figures  in  silhouette  crouched 
about  the  flares  of  food  vendors 
or  moved  in  dimly-lit  interiors. 
Lantern  lights  gleamed  dully 
on  gilded  signs  outside  the 


barred  and  shuttered  shops. 
The  coolie  padded  noiselessly 
on  with  a  long  elastic  lope, 
looking  neither  to  right  nor 
left  of  him.  They  had  gone  a 
couple  of  miles  when  Euan's 
companion  (his  name  was  Cart- 
wright)  stirred  rather  uneasily. 
"  I  didn't  realise  it  was  so  far 
— did  you  ?  "  he  muttered. 
"No,"  replied  Euan.  "  I  sup- 
pose we're  going  right.  ..." 
He  sat  up  and  stared  through 
the  darkness.  At  this  moment 
the  rickshaw  turned  a  corner. 

"  What  the "  began  Cart- 
wright,  and  stopped. 

They  were  in  a  narrow  street 
of  two-storied  houses.  Crude 
kerosene  lamps  flared  in  win- 
dows and  doors,  so  that  the 
street  was  as  light  as  day, 
and  everywhere,  it  seemed  to 
Euan,  leaning  over  balconies, 
lolling  in  the  doorways,  squat- 
ting on  the  pavements,  were 
women.  They  were  of  almost 
every  race — Chinese,  Japanese, 
and  Koreans,  Indians  and  neg- 
resses  ;  and  farther  along,where 
the  glare  dwindled,  coloured 
paper  lanterns  tinted  the  bare 
shoulders  and  arms  of  Euro- 
pean girls,  leaning  out  over 
the  balustrades.  The  air  was 
vibrant  with  feminine  voices  : 
above  the  jingle  of  climate- 
ravaged  pianos  and  outlandish 
stringed  instruments,  they  came 
thrilling  through  the  night — 
strident  or  melodious,  impor- 
tunate or  seductive,  with  an 
undercurrent  of  laughter,  ter- 
rible mechanical  laughter, 
sadder  far  than  sobbing. 

The  coolie  slowed  down  and 
stopped,  resting  the  long  shafts 
on  the  ground.  He  grinned  at 


64 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


his  passengers,  and  wiped  his 
face  with  a  sweat-rag.  Euan 
looked  up  at  the  balcony  and 
saw  four  or  five  girls  leaning 
down,  looking  at  him.  Their 
eyes  were  stained  and  their 
faces  painted,  and  they  com- 
menced a  shrill  wrangling 
amongst  themselves,  pointing 
down  at  the  newcomers.  Then 
one  stretched  out  her  bare 
arms  to  him.  "  'Ullo,  Jack — 
Eenglish  Meedshipman,  eh  ? 
Gom  upstair,  'ave  ze  music : 
trink  glass  of  beer.  ..."  Her 
voice  was  hoarsely  melodious. 

"  I  say  !  "  ejaculated  Cart- 
wright  in  a  tense  voice,  "  you 
aren't  going,  are  you  ?  " 

Euan  shook  his  head  im- 
patiently, but  continued  to  sit 
motionless,  staring  up  at  the 
girl  as  if  hypnotised.  She  had 
large  grey  eyes  and  yellow  hair 
that  hung  down  a  yard  on 
either  side  of  her  face  in  two 
heavy  plaits.  He  thought  she 
was  the  most  beautiful  woman 
he  had  ever  seen. 

Cartwright  was  adjuring  the 
coolie  to  take  them  back  to 
the  wharf  in  voluble  Anglo- 
Saxon,  in  which  there  was  a 
distinct  tremor  of  alarm.  The 
coolie  merely  wiped  his  face 
and  grinned. 

"  The  confounded  idiot 
doesn't  understand  a  word. 

Lets "     Cartwright  turned 

to  his  companion,  but  that 
moment  Euan  sprang  to  the 
pavement.  The  girl  with  the 
plaits  was  in  the  doorway. 
"  You  gom  upstairs  ?  "  she 
queried. 


Euan  stood  facing  her,  his 
heart  beating  unaccountably 
fast.  "  No.  It  was  all  a  mis- 
take. We  don't  want  to  come 
here.  We  wanted  to  go  to  the 
wharf.  The  coolie  brought  us 
here.  Will  you  tell  him  f  Can 
you !  " 

The  girl  gave  him  one  search- 
ing look,  and  glanced  back  fur- 
tively into  the  house.  "  Give 
me  money,  zen — queek." 

Euan  emptied  his  pockets  of 
the  few  dollars  and  cents  they 
contained  into  her  hand.  She 
spoke  a  couple  of  rapid  sen- 
tences to  the  coolie,  who 
grunted  and  picked  up  the 
shafts. 

"  Good  night,  Jack,"  she 
said  softly.  "  Better  you  go, 
leetle  boy.  And  to-night  " — 
for  an  instant  her  bare  arms 
were  about  his  neck,  detaining 
him — "  w'en  you  say  your 
prayers,  say  leetle  prayer  for 
Berta — w'at  let  you  go  !  " 

Once  more  they  ran  the 
gauntlet  of  women's  eyes  and 
all  the  sordid  clamour  of  that 
pitiable  Mart,  shocked  and 
thrilled  by  indefinable  emo- 
tions, and  so  back  to  the  ship 
and  safety. 

That  night  Euan  tossed  sleep- 
less in  his  hammock,  filled 
with  an  unfamiliar  disquiet 
and  the  memory  of  bare  de- 
taining arms.  He  had  the 
deep,  almost  quixotic  reverence 
of  the  sisterless  for  all  women, 
and  never  forgot  that  Street 
of  Sorrow  or  all  it  stood  for 
in  the  world  of  men  and 
women. 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


65 


vin. 


They  travelled  far  up  the 
Tangtse,  through  the  China  of 
the  Willow  Pattern,  and  day 
after  day  Euan  landed  and 
trudged  weary  miles  through 
paddy  and  cotton  under  a 
sweltering  sun,  in  search  of 
snipe  and  pheasant.  They 
visited  the  possessions  of  other 
Powers — French  Cochin-China, 
the  Dutch  East  Indies  and 
Tsingtau,  the  one  German 
colony  in  the  East.  Here 
Euan  studied  the  colonial  life 
of  the  foreigner  and  ate  salt 
pommes  de  terre  frittds,  and 
drank  beer  on  boulevards  that 
were  almost  Parisian,  or  danced 
with  ladies  of  uncertain  na- 
tionality in  cool  marble-pillared 
Batavian  clubs.  They  lingered 
for  a  while  among  the  fringe 
of  islands  off  the  coast  of 
Borneo,  and  here  Euan  had 
his  first  experience  of  "  jungle- 
fright,"  beside  which  the  nor- 
mal fear  of  death  is  but  a 
passing  tremor.  The  Gunroom 
was  picnicking  on  the  shore  of 
an  uninhabited  island  clothed 
in  dense  jungle,  and  Euan  left 
the  party  to  go  in  search 
of  pigeon.  The  interlacing 
branches  of  the  trees  shut  out 
the  sky,  shrouding  everything 
in  a  sickly  greenish  gloom. 
Vines  and  creepers  hung  down 
in  dense  screens  on  all  sides, 
with  fantastic  fungoid  growths 
springing  up  about  the  hollows 
of  the  twisted  lava  underfoot. 
The  air  was  close  and  sickly 
with  the  odour  of  rotting  vege- 
tation, and  as  Euan  pressed 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXIX. 


on  into  this  eerieness  the  sound 
of  the  surf  died  away.  .  .  . 

He  fought  with  the  growing 
Fear  as  he  advanced,  and  forgot 
it  as  a  pigeon  skimmed  past 
among  the  branches.  He  fired 
and  missed,  but  when  the  echo 
of  the  shot  died  among  the 
trees  it  was  succeeded  by  a 
stillness  so  complete  and  so 
terrible  that  he  took  to  his 
heels  and  ran  in  blind  terror. 
Twice  he  fell  headlong  and 
sprained  his  wrist,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  damaging  his  precious 
gun  ;  but  he  cared  nothing  for 
that.  All  he  wanted  was  to 
get  back  to  the  comfortable 
sound  of  human  voices  and 
the  faces  of  companions.  They 
were  frying  sausages  in  the 
lid  of  a  biscuit  tin  when  he 
rejoined  them,  so  intent  upon 
the  task  that  they  never  even 
noticed  his  white  face  and  di- 
shevelled appearance.  But  he 
had  known  Fear  and  had  no 
shame. 

These  picnics  were  a  popular 
institution  in  the  Gunroom. 
The  change  from  the  cramped 
life  afloat  and  wearisome  rou- 
tine, even  for  a  few  hours, 
healed  fretfulness  and  quarrels, 
and  was  the  Commander's  un- 
failing preventive  against  stale- 
ness.  All  the  Gunroom  would 
crowd  into  one  of  the  cutters, 
laden  with  guns  and  provisions, 
and  betake  themselves  to  some 
likely-looking  spot  in  the  vicin- 
ity— out  of  sight  of  the  ship, 
and  as  far  as  possible  unin- 
habited. There,  from  Saturday 
o 


66 


A  Man  in  ihe  Making. 


[July 


forenoon  until  Sunday  night  stars,  and  returned  blistered, 
they  bathed,  ate,  basked  in  clear-eyed,  and  care-free,  to 
the  sun,  slept  under  the  kindly  another  workaday  week. 


IX. 


They  had  been  eighteen 
months  in  commission  when 
the  last  of  the  senior  midship- 
men departed  for  Greenwich 
and  "  courses,"  and  Euan  found 
himself  Senior  Midshipman  with 
power  of  life  and  death  among 
the  batch  of  juniors  who  came 
out  to  fill  the  vacant  places. 
Further,  he  had  to  maintain 
discipline  and  play  the  part 
of  mediator  in  all  disputes 
amongst  his  contemporaries — 
a  task  which,  if  a  young  man  is 
to  do  his  duty  conscientiously 
and  preserve  his  popularity, 
calls  for  tact  and  discretion  of 
no  mean  order. 

He  knew  his  ship  blindfold 
and  loved  her  ;  it  was  perhaps 
an  unconscious  affection,  but 
at  the  end  of  a  hard  day's 
shooting  or  a  cross-country  run, 
returning  wet  and  tired  in  the 
stern  of  a  sampan,  the  sight  of 
her  in  the  dusk,  lying  at 
anchor,  with  the  lights  glowing 
through  the  scuttles  and  gun- 
ports,  and  the  familiar  hum 
of  men's  voices  rising  from  her 
forecastle,  would  send  a  little 
thrill  of  contentment  through 
him.  It  was  Home. 

He  knew  most  of  the  ship's 
company  by  name,  and  all  his 
own  Division  with  an  intimate 
understanding  of  each  indi- 
vidual character.  The  know- 
ledge stood  him  in  good  stead 
in  later  years,  since  the  types 
that  go  to  make  up  a  ship's 


company  (or  indeed  any  com- 
munity) are  limited,  and  merely 
repeat  themselves  with  varia- 
tions ad  infinitum.  And  with 
that  understanding  came  the 
gift  which  is  beyond  price, 
which  can  never  be  counter- 
feited or  abused — the  gift  of 
being  able  to  handle  men. 

The  end  of  the  commission 
came  with  a  sudden  swiftness. 
Two  years  had  come  and  gone, 
years  of  strenuous  toil  and 
vigorous  recreation ;  of  new 
worlds  seen  through  half-com- 
prehending eyes,  holding  in- 
tense friendships,  partings,  folly, 
repentance,  hope  ;  and  hardly 
a  score  of  times  in  those  years 
had  he  spoken  to  a  woman. 

Yet  Euan,  leaning  over  the 
rail  of  the  troop- ship  that  car- 
ried them  home,  watching  the 
mist-shrouded  peak  of  Hong- 
Kong  fade  astern,  was  con- 
scious of  no  change  in  himself. 
"  This  is  me,"  he  said,  as  he 
had  grasped  at  his  individuality 
at  the  threshold  of  that  breath- 
less crowded  commission.  And 
now  at  its  close  behold  it  was 
still  the  identical  Euan  Eaphael 
M'Neil  over  whose  head  these 
years  had  flowed.  Nothing 
stood  out  penetratingly  in  all 
his  memories.  There  had  been 
no  moment  of  crisis  from  which 
he  had  emerged,  and  breathed 
deep,  conscious  of  sudden  trans- 
lation into  manhood.  It  had 


1921.] 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


67 


all  been  .  .  .  imperceptible,  here  he  was  shaving  every  day 
Life  had  just  flowed  along,  now  .  .  .  knowing  good  and 
that  was  the  only  word.  And  evil. 


x. 


He  arrived  home  just  in 
time  for  dinner,  having  pur- 
posely refrained  from  telegraph- 
ing the  time  of  his  arrival  for 
fear  his  Mother  and  Father 
would  meet  him  at  the  station 
and  involve  him  in  greetings 
in  the  public  eye.  An  un- 
familiar but  terrifying  shyness 
seemed  to  have  settled  on  his 
soul.  Once  they  were  alone 
together,  he  told  himself  that 
the  constricting  band  which 
felt  as  if  it  were  fastened 
round  his  heart  would  relax — 
perhaps  fall  away  altogether. 
Yet  when  they  sat  down  to 
dinner  it  was  still  there,  and  his 
consciousness  of  it  made  him 
constrained  and  totally  unlike 
himself. 

"  Now,  Eaffy,  darling,"  said 
his  Mother  when  the  maid 
had  put  the  soup  on  the  table 
and  withdrawn.  "  Now  then, 
begin  to  tell  us  all  about  it." 
She  put  one  of  her  hands  on 
his  as  it  rested  on  the  table. 

"Oh,  Mother  .  .  ."  Euan 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
stared  with  narrowed  eyes  at 
the  wall  opposite.  A  little 
smile  came  into  his  face.  How 
could  he  tell  them  "  all  about 
it  "  ?  How  could  he  condense 
the  colour  and  sunlight,  the 
sights  and  smells  and  sounds 
of  the  station,  the  crowded 
mechanical  life  of  the  ship, 
the  arduous  work,  strenuous 
pleasures,  the  sum  of  all  the 


knowledge  he  had  learned : 
how  could  it  all  be  conveyed 
in  speech  ? 

He  squeezed  her  hand  with 
a  quick  little  pressure,  and 
withdrew  his  own.  "  I've  told 
you  in  my  letters  all  that 
happened.  There  really  isn't 
anything  one  can  fasten  on. 
.  .  .  It's  sort  of  jumbled,  you 
know.  .  .  ." 

"  Must  have  been  wonderful 
shooting,  Euan,"  said  his 
Father,  trying  to  give  him 
a  lead. 

"  Oh,  rather.  Priceless,"  and 
Euan  devoted  himself  to  the 
food  before  him. 

"  What  a  lot  of  friends  you 
must  have  made,  dear,"  said 
his  Mother,  with  a  twinge  of 
maternal  jealousy  in  her  heart. 
Try  as  she  would,  she  could  not 
keep  the  chill  breath  of  dis- 
appointment from  her  con- 
sciousness. It  was  all  so  dif- 
ferent to  the  home-coming  she 
had  pictured.  This  lean,  self- 
contained,  almost  chilly  young 
man,  was  this  her  Eaffy, 
the  impetuous  demonstrative 
schoolboy  she  had  given  to 
the  Service  two  years  ago  ? 
He  had  not  even  said  he  was 
glad  to  be  home  again. 

An  atmosphere  of  constraint 
settled  on  the  room,  against 
which  all  three  strove  uncom- 
prehending. Euan's  Father 
avoided  his  wife's  eye,  and 
shot  sidelong  glances  at  the 


68 


A  Man  in  the  Making. 


[July 


well-shaped  head  of  his  son 
whom  he  had  bidden  return 
a  Man,  and  had  looked  forward 
to  greeting  as  the  comrade 
and  companion  of  his  old  age. 
Hang  it  all,  what  was  wrong 
with  the  boy  t 

The  meal  came  to  an  end  at 
length,  and  Euan's  Mother  rose. 
"  Bring  your  cigarettes  up  to 
the  drawing-room  when  you've 
had  your  port "  ;  and  as  she 
went  out  behind  her  son  she 
passed  her  hand  softly  over  his 
close-cut  rusty-coloured  hair. 

Euan  filled  and  sipped  his 
glass  in  silence.  "  Jove  .  .  .  !  " 
he  observed  musingly. 

"  What  is  it,  old  chap  ?  " 
His  Father  turned  his  chair  a 
little  sideways.  "  Nothing  on 
your  mind,  is  there  ?  Every- 
thing's all  right,  isn't  it  ?  I 
mean,  you  aren't  in  any  trouble, 
are  you  ?  " 

"  Good  Lord,  no  !  "  Euan 
turned  his  candid  eyes  and 
met  his  Father's.  "  Oh  no  ! 
It's  just  that  all  this — "  he 
embraced  with  a  little  gesture 
the  softly-lit  room  and  polished 
table  with  its  shining  glass  and 
silver  and  the  doylies  he  re- 
membered his  Mother  painting 
when  he  was  a  little  boy — 
"  takes  a  bit  of  getting  used  to. 

I "  He  hesitated.  "It 

doesn't  seem  real  somehow. 
.  .  .  It's  so  different " 

"I  know.  I  know."  His 
Father  gave  a  kind  of  relieved 
sigh.  "  But  things  will  adjust 
themselves  into  the  right  per- 
spective in  time,  you'll  see. 
A  night's  rest  will  go  a  long 
way  towards  it.  You  want 
some  leave,  and  just  do  nothing 


for  a  bit.  We'll  go  to  see  some 
plays  and  have  some  hunting. 
More  port  ?  Sure  ?  Then  let's 
go  and  join  your  Mother." 

There  was  only  the  firelight 
in  the  drawing  -  room,  and 
Euan's  Mother  had  drawn  the 
deep  sofa  in  front  of  it,  and 
was  sitting  with  her  chin  on 
her  hand  gazing  into  the  flames. 
Euan  crossed  the  room,  and 
obeying  a  little  movement  she 
made,  sat  down  at  her  side. 
Then  without  warning  his  arm 
slid  round  her,  his  head  was 
against  her  shoulder.  He  snug- 
gled closer  as  he  used  to  when 
very  small. 

"  Oh,  Mother  !  "  he  whis- 
pered. "  Oh,  it's  good  to  be 
home."  She  stroked  his  head 
in  silence  with  a  hand  that 
trembled  a  little. 

Then  Euan  moved.  "  Dad  !  " 
His  Father  was  standing  at  one 
end  of  the  fender  with  studi- 
ously averted  face,  scraping 
out  a  pipe.  "  Hullo  t  "  he 
replied  without  looking  up. 

Euan  patted  the  vacant  place 
on  the  sofa  beside  him.  "  Come 
on,  Dad.  Lets  ...  Us 
three.  .  .  ." 

Euan's  father  blew  through 
his  pipe,  and  closed  his  knife 
with  a  little  click.  Then  with 
his  face  in  shadow,  he  turned 
and  sat  down  beside  his  son. 
Euan  linked  his  disengaged  arm 
in  his  Father's. 

The  shadows  that  the  fire- 
light set  in  motion  upon  the 
walls  and  ceiling  were  the  only 
things  in  the  room  that  moved. 
The  only  sound  was  the  clink 
of  the  embers,  and  once  the 
deep  contented  sigh  of  the  boy 
who  had  become  a  man. 


1921.] 


69 


THE   VOYAGE   HOME. 


BY  ALAN   GRAHAM. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


PETER  BROWN  ascertained 
from  Garry,  whom  he  found 
in  the  steward's  pantry,  the 
number  of  Sir  Evan  Filth's 
cabin,  and,  giving  himself  no 
time  for  hesitation,  he  found 
it  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

It  was  Sir  Evan  himself  who 
opened.  Seeing  Peter  Brown, 
whom  he  was  now  convinced 
was  guilty  of  the  theft,  he 
would  have  closed  the  door 
in  his  face,  had  not  the  detec- 
tive's first  words  arrested  him. 

"  May  I  speak  to  Lady  Pilth 
about  her  diamonds  ?  " 

Peter  Brown,  having  wrought 
himself  up  to  what  he  knew 
must  be  a  most  unpleasant 
interview — a  thing  he  hated — 
went  straight  and  abruptly  to 
the  point. 

"  Will  any  useful  purpose  be 
served "  began  Sir  Evan. 

"  That  is  a  matter  for  Lady 
Pilth,  Sir  Evan,"  Peter  inter- 
rupted. "  Perhaps  you  will 
ask  if  she  will  grant  me  an 
interview." 

"  Lady  Pilth  is  dressing.  It 
is  impossible  that  she  should 
see  you  now,  even  were  she 
inclined  to  look  upon  such  a 
request  with  favour,  which,  I 
may  say,  is  more  than  doubtful 
— exceedingly  improbable." 

"  The  matter  will  not  wait. 


I  must  see  her  now,"  Brown 
insisted. 

"  Must,  sir  ?  " 

Sir  Evan's  dignity  was  in 
arms,  and  he  would  certainly 
have  closed  the  door — and  the 
interview — had  not  his  wife 
appeared  behind  him,  wrapped 
in  a  dressing-gown. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  she 
asked  anxiously. 

"  I  wish  to  have  a  few  words 
with  you  alone,  Lady  Pilth," 
said  Peter  Brown  abruptly. 

"  Alone  !  "  interjected  Sir 
Evan.  "Surely  Lady  Pilth's 
husband  has  a  right  to " 

"It  is  a  matter  for  Lady 
Pilth  to  decide,"  the  detective 
interrupted,  looking  behind  him 
at  the  lady. 

Lady  Pilth  looked  ghastly. 
She  had  not  yet  made  up  her 
face  for  dinner,  and  it  looked 
grey  and  haggard  without  its 
habitual  false  bloom.  The  arti- 
ficial light  threw  strong  sha- 
dows on  its  lines  and  hollows, 
so  that  her  loose  cheeks  seemed 
flabbier  than  usual,  and  her 
real  age  was  manifest. 

The  change  in  her  appearance 
was  not  all  a  matter  of  make- 
up, however.  Fear  was  written 
in  every  line  of  her  face. 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  hear 
what  he  has  got  to  say,  dear," 


Copyrighted  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


70 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


she  said,  with  an  attempt 
to  show  merely  a  casual 
interest. 

"  Let  him  come  inside,  then," 
said  Sir  Evan. 

"  But  —  but  he  wishes  to 
speak  to  me  alone,  dear,"  pro- 
tested his  wife. 

Peter  Brown  had  come  to 
the  interview  conscious  that 
he  might  be  making  a  terrible 
mistake,  and  prepared  to  take 
the  consequences,  but  each 
moment  his  fear  grew  less ; 
Lady  Filth's  every  word  and 
look  strengthened  his  convic- 
tion. His  intuition  had  not 
failed  him.  He  knew  now  that 
he  had  guessed  aright. 

"  This  man  can  have  nothing 
to  say  to  you  that  should  be 
secret  from  your  husband, 
Mary,"  replied  Sir  Evan. 

His  pompous  face  had  taken 
on  a  look  of  dread.  He  saw 
that  his  wife  had  something  in 
her  mind  of  which  he  knew 
nothing,  and  he  had  a  fore- 
boding of  evil. 

"  Come,  sir,"  he  said,  open- 
ing the  door  wide.  "  Come  in 
and  say  what  you  have  to  say." 

Peter  Brown  entered  the 
sanctuary  of  the  Pilths.  That 
Sir  Evan  should  have  sacrificed 
his  dignity  so  far  as  to  receive 
an  alleged  jewel-thief  into  his 
privacy,  with  his  own  and  his 
wife's  discarded  clothing  lit- 
tered indecently  around,  is  suffi- 
cient proof  of  the  agitation  of 
his  mind. 

"  Sir  Evan,  let  me  appeal  to 
you  again,"  said  the  detective 
earnestly.  "What  I  have  to 
say  concerns  only  Lady  Pilth." 

"  Mary,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 


He  awaited  his  wife's  answer 
with  all  the  anxiety  of  a  man 
expecting  a  blow. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  better, 
dear — if  he  wishes  it,"  she  said. 

She  was  white  to  the  lips, 
and  her  hands  trembled  and 
moved  nervously. 

Sir  Evan's  face  darkened. 
After  thirty-five  years  she  had 
something  hidden  from  him — 
something,  too,  that  this 
stranger,  this  notorious  crimi- 
nal, shared  with  her  !  He  was 
filled  with  a  hot  jealousy  that 
overmounted  his  reason. 

"  I  have  no  secrets  from  my 
wife,  sir,"  he  said,  fixed  deter- 
mination in  the  staccato  of  his 
words.  "  She  can  have  none 
from  me.  Say  what  you  have 
to  say  and  be  gone." 

Peter  Brown  hesitated.  He 
hated  what  he  had  to  bring 
upon  this  self-satisfied  old  man, 
but  the  memory  of  Joan  Con- 
liffe  and  her  awful  situation 
forced  him  on.  He  saw  that 
Sir  Evan  Pilth  was  immovable 
— that  all  further  appeal  was 
useless.  He  turned  abruptly 
to  Lady  Pilth. 

"  Mr  Conliffe  has  worried 
himself  into — delirium,  Lady 
Pilth,"  he  began,  speaking  more 
sharply  than  he  knew  in  his 
discomfort.  "  I  think  you  have 
punished  him  more  than 
enough." 

She  made  no  answer,  nor 
looked  up,  but  stood  plucking 
at  a  button  of  her  dressing- 
gown  with  restless  fingers. 

"  I  feel  sure  that  when  you 
— when  you  took  the  initial 
step,  you  had  no  idea  that  the 
thing  would  go  so  far.  It  has 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


71 


gone  too  far.  The  man  is 
dangerously  mad,  and  unless 
something  can  be  done  quickly 
— at  once — to  convince  him  of 
his  innocence,  he  will  remain 
a  hopeless  lunatic." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ? 
In  what  way  is  Lady  Pilth 
responsible  for  this  wretched 
man's  condition  ?  I  know  from 
my  own  observation  that  drink 
is  the  cause  of  his  degradation." 

He  did  not  speak  with  his 
usual  assurance.  He  knew  from 
Peter  Brown's  earnest  words 
and  his  wife's  guilty  silence 
that  there  were  facts — painful, 
if  not  disgraceful  facts  —  of 
which  he  was  ignorant. 

Peter  Brown  pitied  him  in- 
tensely. He  tried  to  soften 
the  blow  that  he  must  deal. 

"  Let  me  explain,  Sir  Evan," 
he  said  quietly.  "  At  Malta, 
Conliffe  insulted  your  wife  most 
grossly  when  under  the  in- 
fluence of  drink.  A  lady  hold- 
ing such  a  position  in  life  as 
she  does  had  probably  never 
even  heard  such  words  used 
before.  Certainly  never  in  con- 
nection with  herself.  She  was 
terribly  shocked  and  angered. 
Conliffe's  words  rankled  in  her 
mind.  She  could  not  forget 
them.  She  lay  awake  with 
them  poisoning  her  mind  " — 
the  detective  was  repeating 
aloud  the  pictures  that  his 
imagination  had  called  up  in 
reaching  what  proved  to  be 
the  truth — "  and  her  outraged 
pride  tried  to  find  some  means 
of  punishing  the  man  who  had 
insulted  her.  She  remembered 
his  jeers  at  the  jewellery  she 
wore,  and  the  threat  he  had 


made  to  steal  it,  and  then  she 
saw  a  way  to  make  him  suffer. 
She  never  meant  it  to  go  so 
far,  Sir  Evan.  She  thought 
she  would  turn  suspicion  on 
him,  and  make  his  life  on  board 
uncomfortable,  but  she  never 
dreamt  that  he  would  come  to 
believe  that  he  really  had 
stolen  the  jewels." 

Peter  Brown  paused.  He 
had  been  carried  out  of  him- 
self by  the  demonstration  of 
his  case,  and  he  was  astonished 
at  his  own  fluency. 

"  Is  this  true,  Mary  ?  "  asked 
Sir  Evan  brokenly. 

He  was  overwhelmed  by  the 
disclosure,  and  all  his  pom- 
posity and  self-assurance  had 
dropped  from  him,  leaving  him 
a  helpless  and  pitiable  old  man. 

Lady  Pilth  had  sunk  upon 
the  red  plush  couch,  and  was 
sobbing  convulsively.  There 
was  no  need  for  her  to  answer. 
The  truth  of  the  detective's 
words  was  manifest. 

Sir  Evan  stood  bewildered 
and  broken.  Then  suddenly 
a  new  thought  crossed  his 
mind. 

"  And  you,  sir,  how  do  you 
come  to  be  my  wife's  confidant 
in  this  disgraceful  affair  ?  "  he 
demanded,  with  a  hint  of  a 
return  to  his  normal  manner. 

Peter  Brown  shook  his  head 
deprecatingly. 

"  I  was  not  in  her  confi- 
dence," he  said.  "  I  suspected 
the  truth  first  because  Lady 
Pilth  rather  over-acted  her  part. 
It  was  only  a  vague  idea  at 
first,  but  it  would  not  leave 
me ;  and  gradually,  as  I 
guessed  how  her  mind  had 


72 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


worked,  it  became  a  convic- 
tion. I  confirmed  it  by  Lady 
Filth's  attitude  in  a  conversa- 
tion I  had  with  her  to-day. 
I  would  not  have  interfered 
had  the  necessity  not  arisen, 
but  the  matter  is  urgent — 
desperate." 

"  What  is  to  be  done  t  " 
asked  Sir  Evan  helplessly. 
"  Such  an  exposure " 

"  We  may  avoid  an  exposure. 
That  remains  to  be  seen,"  said 
the  detective.  "  The  imme- 
diate need  is  to  convince  Con- 
liffe  that  the  diamonds  have 
turned  up — that  he  had  nothing 
to  do  with  them.  We  can  talk 
of  the  other  later." 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  want  the  necklace.  If 
I  can  take  it  to  him — tell  him 
it  has  been  found,  let  him  feel 
the  stones  in  his  hands — it  may 
restore  his  reason." 

"  Mary,  give  him  the  neck- 
lace." 

Sir  Evan  spoke  hardly — 
peremptorily.  It  was  curious 
that,  believing  this  man  to  be 
a  notorious  jewel-thief,  he  was 
prepared  to  entrust  the  dia- 
monds to  him.  Indeed,  he  had 
no  thought  of  the  value  of 
them.  He  was  overwhelmed 
with  the  disgrace  that  his  wife 
had  brought  upon  him. 

Lady  Pilth  rose  with  a  pitiful 
obedience. 

Turning  her  back  upon  the 
two  men,  she  fumbled  in  the 
inner  recesses  of  her  clothing 
and  produced  a  bag,  roughly 
sewn  from  a  handkerchief. 
Shamefacedly  she  placed  it  in 
Peter  Brown's  hand. 

At  the  same  moment  a  mad 


shriek  echoed  down  the  passage 
and  penetrated  to  the  Filths' 
cabin. 

"  He's  awake,"  exclaimed 
Peter  Brown. 

He  tore  the  thin  fabric  across, 
and  the  necklace  dropped  out 
to  the  floor,  its  hard  glittering 
splendour  a  mockery  to  the 
emotions  for  which  it  was  re- 
sponsible. 

"  I  must  go  at  once.  God 
knows  what  may  be  happen- 
ing." 

Brown  picked  up  the  dia- 
monds and  opened  the  door. 

"  I'll  bring  this  back  when 
it  has  served  its  purpose,"  he 
said. 

He  hurried  along  the  passage, 
leaving  Sir  Evan  and  his  wife 
to  face  the  crisis  of  their  lives. 

As  he  went  he  heard  a  faint 
cry  of  fear,  and  hurried  the 
faster  as  he  recognised  the 
voice  of  Joan  Conliffe.  As  he 
reached  the  cabin  he  heard  a 
sound  as  of  a  body  hurled 
against  the  door,  and  a  faint 
cry  of  fear.  Then  Charlie  Con- 
liffe's  maniacal  voice  came  to 
him. 

"  Let  me  out,  curse  you. 
They're  biting  me.  They're 
fastening  on  my  legs.  Oh 
God  !  " 

The  last  was  a  scream  of 
crazy  anguish. 

With  difficulty  Peter  Brown 
forced  the  door  inward,  for 
there  was  a  weight  opposing 
his  pressure.  It  was  Joan 
Conliffe,  resisting  Charlie's  wild 
efforts  to  escape.  She  gave 
way  as  she  realised  the  presence 
of  a  friend,  and  the  detective 
entered  the  cabin. 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


73 


He  found  Charlie  worse  than 
before.  He  was  in  a  frenzy  of 
agony,  at  one  moment  making 
a  wild  rush  for  the  door,  the 
next  tearing  from  his  legs  what- 
ever loathsome  creatures  his 
disordered  imagination  had  con- 
ceived to  be  attacking  him.  It 
was  this  that  had  saved  Joan, 
for  no  sooner  did  he  attempt 
to  drag  her  from  the  door  than 
he  was  assailed  again  by  his 
imaginary  foes,  and  forced  to 
give  up  his  attack  in  order  to 
defend  himself. 

As  Peter  Brown  entered,  he 
was  clawing  and  clutching  at 
his  legs  and  flinging  from  him 
the  creatures  of  his  phantasy, 
snarling  and  yelping  like  a 
mad  dog  in  his  bestial  terror. 
They  were  gaining  on  him,  one 
could  see,  for  now  he  was 
brushing  them  frenziedly  from 
his  thighs.  His  face,  inhuman 
in  its  fear,  shone  with  sweat, 
and  his  eyes  bulged  and  glit- 
tered with  the  pale  light  of 
lunacy. 

Peter  Brown  feared  that  he 
was  too  late,  that  Charlie  was 
too  intent  upon  his  delusions 
to  be  amenable  to  realities. 
He  could  but  try. 

"Conliffe,"  he  began,  "it 
has  all  been  a  mistake.  The 
necklace  has  been  found.  Look, 
here  it  is." 

He  held  out  the  blazing 
string  that  was  the  cause  of 
all  this  agony,  and  dangled  it 
in  front  of  Charlie,  in  the  hope 
that  its  glitter  would  hold  his 
attention.  The  effect  seemed 
all  that  he  could  have  wished. 

Charlie  stared  at  the  jewels 
intently — madly.  A  look  of 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXIX. 


cunning  came  into  his  eyes, 
and  he  stood  quite  motionless 
— staring. 

Peter  Brown  remained  silent, 
holding  the  necklace  out- 
stretched in  his  hand.  He 
began  to  hope  again  for  the 
success  of  his  plan.  At  least 
he  had  arrested  Charlie's  atten- 
tion, and  he  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  his  recent  delusions. 

"  So  you're  tied  up  again, 
you  blighters,"  said  Charlie, 
exultation  in  his  voice.  "  You 
can't  go  crawling  about  tear- 
ing at  a  man's  legs  any  more, 
blast  you." 

He  glanced  around,  a  look 
almost  of  sanity  in  his  eyes, 
so  crafty  and  cunning  was  it. 

Joan,  overcome  by  the  strain 
of  her  efforts  to  hold  him,  had 
moved  away  from  the  door, 
and  stood,  leaning  against  the 
bunks,  anxiously  watching  the 
experiment.  Peter  Brown  re- 
mained motionless,  trusting  to 
the  jewels  to  do  their  own  work. 

"  Tied  up  good  and  tight," 
repeated  Charlie,  his  eyes  gloat- 
ing on  the  necklace. 

He  stretched  his  hands  out 
towards  it  slowly,  as  a  child 
would  towards  a  settled  butter- 
fly, fearful  that  it  would  evade 
him. 

"  Once  let  him  hold  it  in 
his  hands,"  thought  Brown, 
"  and  its  cold  hard  reality  will 
bring  him  to  his  senses." 

Suddenly  the  madman 
clutched. 

"  Got  you,"  he  screeched 
exultantly.  "  And,  by  Christ, 
you  won't  get  loose  again  !  " 

Before  Brown  could  guess  at 
his  intention,  he  found  himself 
02 


74 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


hurled  across  the  cabin  upon 
Mrs  Conliffe,  and  Charlie,  the 
necklace  grasped  in  his  hand, 
had  reached  the  door  and 
escaped. 

By  the  time  Brown  had  re- 
covered himself  and  followed, 
the  madman  had  gained  a  long 
start.  He  was  half-way  to  the 
deck  when  the  detective 
reached  the  bottom  of  the 
stairway.  By  chance  there 
was  no  one  to  impede  his 
progress,  though  his  wild  cries 
caused  cabin  doors  to  open 
after  he  had  passed,  and  faces 
to  peer  out  in  anxious  inquiry. 

Peter  Brown  reached  the 
deck  in  time  to  see  Charlie 
Conliffe  leap  upon  the  rail  of 
the  ship.  For  a  moment  he 
balanced  upright  upon  it,  the 
diamonds  sparkling  in  his  hand 
in  the  light  of  the  deck  lamps. 

Brown  dashed  across  to  seize 
him — too  late. 

"  In  you  go  and  drown,  blast 
you  !  "  cried  Charlie,  hurling 
the  diamonds  from  him  into 
the  sea. 

The  effort  overbalanced  him. 
He  lurched  from  the  rail  and 
was  gone. 

Peter  Brown  was  in  time  to 
see  him  hit  the  water,  and  to 
see  also  Lady  Pilth's  necklace 
sparkling  in  the  ship's  lights 
as  it  swung  through  the  air, 
until  suddenly  quenched  as  it 
struck  the  water. 

Almost  immediately  the  en- 
gines stopped.  The  officer  of 
the  watch  had  seen  what  had 
happened.  Passengers  and 
crew  rushed  on  deck,  and  there 
was  some  confusion  as  the 
boats  were  lowered  until  the 


news  of  what  had  happened 
spread  from  lip  to  lip. 

Peter  Brown  shook  his  head 
as  he  saw  the  preparations  for 
the  attempt  at  rescue.  It  had 
to  be  done,  of  course,  but  it 
was  hopeless,  he  knew.  He 
slipped  off  below,  and  re- 
entered  Joan  Conliffe's  cabin. 
She  stood  white  and  trembling 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

"  I  know,"  she  said  as  he 
entered.  "  I  followed  you." 

"  They  are  putting  out  the 
boats,"  he  said. 

"  Is  there  any — chance  f  " 
she  asked. 

Peter  Brown  shook  his  head. 

"  Very  little,  I'm  afraid,"  he 
said.  "It  is  dark,  and  he  is 
already  far  behind.  What 
chance  can  there  be  1  " 

She  looked  at  him  steadily 
for  a  moment,  then  said — 

"  I  think  it  is  better  so." 

She  swayed  upon  her  feet, 
and  would  have  fallen  had 
Peter  Brown  not  held  her.  She 
had  suffered  too  much,  and 
now  that  it  was  over,  she 
fainted. 

Peter  Brown  laid  her  gently 
down,  and  went  in  search  of 
the  stewardess,  whom  he  found 
on  deck  with  the  others.  He 
sent  her  below  to  Joan  Con- 
liffe, then  stood,  hesitating. 

The  Pilths  were  not  on  deck. 
He  must  go  to  them. 

Their  cabin  door  opened 
quickly  in  answer  to  his  gentle 
tap.  Sir  Evan  looked  out 
anxiously,  and  seeing  who  was 
outside,  beckoned  him  in  and 
closed  the  door  quickly. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he 
asked  with  trembling  voice. 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


75 


He  seemed  older  by  ten  years 
than  when  Peter  Brown  had 
seen  him  last.  His  cheeks  had 
fallen  in,  and  his  healthy  colour 
had  faded.  He  had  lost,  too, 
the  consciously  upright  bearing 
that  had  been  the  natural  result 
of  his  perfect  satisfaction  with 
himself  and  all  connected  with 
him. 

Lady  Pilth  crouched  patheti- 
cally upon  the  seat  under  the 
port-hole,  weeping. 

"  He  has  gone — overboard," 
said  Peter  Brown  slowly. 

"  Conliffe  !  Drowned  ?  "  re- 
peated Sir  Evan  in  dismay. 
"  Oh,  Mary— Mary  !  " 

He  dropped  by  his  wife's 
side,  and,  overcome  by  his 
misfortunes,  burst  into  a  pain- 
ful fit  of  sobbing. 

His  abandonment  had  the 
effect  of  giving  her  fresh  con- 
trol of  herself.  Never  had  she 
seen  her  husband  reduced  to 
such  a  display  of  naked  human- 
ity. It  shocked  and  hurt  her 
more  than  any  words  he  could 
have  spoken. 

"  Evan,  don't !  "  she  begged 
piteously.  "  You  have  nothing 
to  be  ashamed  of,  dear.  It  is 
I — I,  that  am  responsible  for 
everything.  Evan,  I  will  con- 
fess, and  take  my  punish- 
ment." 


"  No — no,"  cried  the  old  man 
brokenly. 

He  looked  up  at  Peter  Brown, 
his  sunken  cheeks  wet  with  the 
tears  of  his  dishonour. 

"  Can  nothing  be  done,"  he 
said  beseechingly.  "  Can  we 
not  be  spared  this  disgrace  f  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say," 
answered  the  detective  hesi- 
tatingly. "  I  have  not  told 
you — the  necklace  has  gone 
with  him." 

Sir  Evan  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders as  at  a  matter  of  no 
account,  and  Peter  Brown's 
heart  warmed  to  him. 

"  Listen,"  he  said,  taking  a 
decision.  "  Captain  Spedley 
must  be  told  the  true  facts. 
I  will  see  him  and  tell  him 
everything.  If  I  can  prevail 
on  him  to  hush  the  whole 
thing  up,  good  and  well. — 
No  one  else  need  be  told." 

"  And  if  not !  "  asked  Sir 
Evan. 

"  We  will  not  think  of  that," 
replied  the  detective.  "  I  shall 
do  my  utmost." 

He  left  them  then — two  poor 
old  people,  shocked  out  of 
their  life-long  conception  of 
each  other,  and  compelled  to 
rebuild  in  their  old  age  the 
confidence  that  had  taken  a 
lifetime  to  erect. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


When  Honiton  left  Peter 
Brown  in  the  cabin,  his  mind 
was  made  up.  Jocelyn  must 
hear  the  truth — at  whatever 
cost  to  her,  to  him.  He  could 
not  wait.  He  must  make  his 


confession  at  once,  without 
further  thought.  He  dared 
not  think. 

Restlessly  he  wandered 
through  the  passages  of  the 
ship,  watching  for  Jocelyn  to 


76 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


come  from  her  cabin.  After 
dinner  would  not  do.  He  could 
not  sit  through  another  meal 
with  Brown  upon  his  right, 
Jocelyn  upon  his  left,  and 
retain  his  reason. 

She  came  out  at  last,  alone, 
dressed  in  a  gown  of  soft 
dull-green  silk  cut  low  round 
her  pretty  white  neck,  and 
with  sleeves  that  reached  just 
midway  to  the  elbow.  She 
looked  more  slender  and  girlish 
even  than  usual,  and  at  sight 
of  her  beauty,  illuminated  as 
it  was  by  the  happiness  she 
had  found,  Honiton's  heart 
failed  him.  He  felt  he  could 
kill  her  more  easily  than  tell 
her  the  truth. 

Yet  tell  her  he  would. — 
He  must  not  think. 

As  she  came  to  him  with 
eyes  alight  at  sight  of  him,  he 
took  the  plunge. 

"  Get  a  wrap,  and  come  on 
deck  with  me  —  I've  some- 
thing to  tell  you." 

"  So  speaks  the  brave  to 
his  squaw,"  replied  Jocelyn, 
looking  up  at  him  mischiev- 
ously. "  But,  you  know,  the 
squaw  rather  likes  it — I  think. 
Is  there  time  before  dinner  ?  " 

"  Plenty  of  time — but  come 
quickly." 

She  slipped  back  to  the 
cabin,  threw  a  dark  fur-collared 
cloak  over  her  fair  shoulders, 
and  led  the  way  on  deck.  It 
was  deserted,  for  it  was  already 
dark  and  close  upon  the  dinner 
hour. 

Honiton  led  her  to  the 
fo'c'sle-head,  to  the  spot  where 
so  much  had  already  passed 
between  them.  He  could  see, 


dimly,  the  lovely  smiling  face 
upturned  to  him,  innocent  of 
the  vaguest  suspicion  of  what 
was  to  come,  and  a  wild  un- 
controllable impulse  took  pos- 
session of  him.  At  least  he 
would  hold  her  once  more  in 
his  arms. 

She  came  to  him  willingly, 
her  hands  clasped  about  his 
neck,  her  soft  sweet  lips  re- 
turning eagerly  the  hot  kisses 
that  he  pressed  madly  upon 
them.  He  kissed  her  eyes,  her 
soft  aromatic  hair,  the  little 
cool  ears  that  peeped  beneath 
the  waves  of  it,  and,  as  he 
kissed,  he  groaned  in  the  ecstasy 
of  his  agony. 

Then,  as  suddenly  as  he  had 
seized  her,  he  released  her  from 
his  embrace  and  staggered  back, 
the  palms  of  his  hands  pressed 
upon  his  eyes,  as  if  to  shut  out 
the  memory  of  what  he  had 
done. 

"  Frank,  Frank  !  Why  are 
you  so  violent  ?  "  whispered 
Jocelyn,  her  young  breast  heav- 
ing wildly  with  the  emotion 
that  his  embraces  had  aroused 
in  her.  "  What  is  the  matter 
with  you  ?  " 

For  the  first  time  she  began 
to  have  a  conception  of  some- 
thing wrong.  Dimly  as  she 
could  see  his  face,  there  was 
enough  to  bring  to  her  the  pre- 
monition of  calamity. 

Honiton  took  his  hands  from 
his  eyes,  grasped  the  rail  of 
the  ship,  turning  his  back  upon 
the  girl,  and  gazed  out  into  the 
darkness. 

"  What  is  the  matter, 
Frank  ?  "  she  asked,  laying 
her  hand  lightly  upon  his  arm. 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


The  time  had  come. 

"  Jocelyn — I  lied  to  you  this 
morning,"  he  began,  his  voice 
hard  and  harsh  with  the  horror 
of  his  words. 

He  did  not  look  round,  but 
continued  to  stare  unseeingly 
into  the  night. 

"  Nonsense,  Frank,  you 
couldn't,"  she  answered  him, 
with  an  attempt  to  speak 
lightly  which  yet  had  in  it  a 
hint  of  the  fear  that  was 
beginning  to  chill  her. 

"I  let  you  believe  that 
Brown  was  Oxterham,  the  jewel 
thief.  That  is  a  lie.  Brown  is 
the  detective  who  is  taking 
Oxterham  home  under  arrest." 

There  was  a  silence  that 
appeared  unbreakable.  Neither 
moved.  Honiton,  his  face  to 
the  black  sea,  was  but  a  sil- 
houette of  bowed  shoulders  to 
the  girl.  She  looked  at  him 
long,  standing  stiff  and  as 
though  petrified. 

At  last,  when  the  silence  had 
become  to  him  an  excruciating 
pain,  she  spoke. 

"  And  Oxterham  ?  " 

The  voice  was  cold  and  clear, 
almost  inhuman. 

"  I  am  Oxterham,"  he  an- 
swered. 

He  said  no  more,  but  clung 
desperately  to  the  rail — and 
waited. 

Her  hands  were  clutched 
together  tightly  as  though  she 
held  within  them  the  whole 
control  of  her  emotions,  and 
dared  not  release  it.  Intui- 
tively she  knew  his  guilt,  yet 
forlornly  hoping  against  her 
reason,  she  cried  out  to  him. 

"  Prank,  there  is  some  ter- 


rible mistake  ?  If  you  are 
Oxterham,  then  Oxterham  is 
not — guilty?  " 

Her  voice  pleaded  piteously 
for  mercy,  and  he  had  not  it 
to  give  her. 

She  would  not  accept  his 
silence.  She  must  know.  There 
must  be  no  loophole  for  doubt, 
for  misunderstanding.  Perhaps 
his  very  silence  covered  some 
immense  renunciation.  In  her 
heart  she  knew  it  did  not,  but 
hope  would  not  die  until  slain 
by  the  spoken  word. 

"  Answer  me,  Frank — yes  or 
no.  Are  you — a  thief  f  " 

Her  hands  clasped  still  more 
tightly  in  the  agony  of  her 
last  suspense.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  it  was  ages  before 
he  spoke,  and  that  throughout 
those  ages  her  heart  had 
waited,  motionless  like  herself, 
for  his  answer. 

"  Yes— I  am  a  thief  !  " 

Her  heart  pounded  on  over- 
whelmingly. Now  she  knew, 
and  for  the  moment  her  mind 
was  numb.  She  was  conscious 
of  nothing  but  the  thunderous 
thud  of  her  pulses,  that  seemed 
to  shake  her  whole  light  frame 
and  threaten  to  unseat  her 
reason. 

Her  hands  flew  apart,  and, 
as  if  the  action  were  sym- 
bolical, her  emotions  took  the 
command. 

In  time,  barely  a  minute 
had  passed  since  she  lay  pressed 
to  him,  her  lips  answering  his 
in  a  rapture  of  sensuous  happi- 
ness, and  now  he  stood  before 
her  a  confessed  thief,  who 
dared  not  even  turn  his  face 
to  her. 


78 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


A  blind  rage  at  her  dis- 
illusionment overcame  her.  All 
her  beliefs,  her  youthful  the- 
ories, lay  in  ruins  around  her, 
irreplaceable. 

"  Turn  and  look  at  me,"  she 
ordered  him,  her  voice  intense 
with  passion. 

He  hesitated,  then  turned, 
and  she  struck  him  full  upon 
the  face  with  her  open  hand. 

Honiton  winced  at  the  blow, 
then  stood  with  bowed  head, 
motionless. 

Jocelyn  shrunk  back,  amazed 
at  her  own  act,  yet  unre- 
pentant. At  the  moment  she 
hated  this  man  who  had  held 
her  in  his  arms  and  proved  so 
utterly  unworthy  of  the  gift 
she  had  so  freely  given  him. 
She  hated  him  as  representing 
the  full  measure  of  her  own 
mistake.  She  had  been  so 
confident  of  her  own  judgment, 
and  he  had  proved  her  so 
wholly  wrong. 

No,  she  was  not  ashamed  of 
the  blow  that  she  had  struck 
— rather  it  stirred  her  passion 
to  a  fiercer  heat  so  that  she 
longed  to  hurt  him,  to  make  him 
suffer  as  she  herself  suffered. 

"  Oh,  abominable,"  she  cried, 
her  body  vibrating  with 
mingled  rage  and  shame.  "  I 
hate  myself  for  having  ever 
known  you.  I  shall  never 
again  feel  clean  from  having 
touched  you.  It  is  not  only 
that  you  are  a  thief,  though 
that  is  bad  enough.  If  you 
had  had  the  faintest  sense  of 
honour  left,  you  could  never 
have  acted  the  hypocrite  to 
me  as  you  have  done  —  you 
could  never  have  put  your 


past  crimes  on  poor  Mr  Brown  ; 
and  even  now  when,  no 
doubt  for  some  mean  reason 
of  your  own,  you  come  to  me 
and  tell  me  the  truth,  you  must 
perpetrate  a  last  insult  on  me 
first.  Oh,  how  I  hate  you  !  " 

The  girl  was  beyond  her- 
self, and  the  words  she  spoke 
bore  no  relation  to  anything 
but  the  torture  of  her  young 
untried  spirit.  She  might  have 
gone  further,  but  the  words 
were  choked  in  her  throat  by  a 
spasm  of  dry  sobs. 

Honiton  bore  it  as  a  man 
must  bear  the  inevitable.  His 
mind  was  one  dull  ache,  dead- 
ened by  excess  of  suffering. 

The  scene  was  brought  to  an 
end  by  the  tragedy  of  Charlie 
Conliffe.  His  wild  exultant 
screams  as  he  went  to  his 
death,  the  sudden  stoppage  of 
the  Bedouin's  engines,  and  the 
rush  of  people  to  the  decks, 
roused  even  these  two  unfor- 
tunates to  a  realisation  of 
events  beyond  themselves.  Few 
and  desperate  are  the  ex- 
tremities in  which  the  indi- 
vidual becomes  emancipated 
from  self  -  consciousness,  and 
careless  of  the  thoughts  of 
mankind.  Passion  is  called 
back  to  earth,  the  intensity 
of  emotion  chilled  to  the  com- 
monplace by  the  interposition 
of  the  discordant  world. 

Jocelyn  fled  into  the  dark- 
ness. Honiton  remained  by 
the  rail  watching,  with  the 
surface  of  his  mind,  the  launch- 
ing of  the  boats  and  all  the 
detail  of  the  attempted  rescue. 
He  took  an  intense,  almost  a 
childish,  interest  in  it  all, 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


79 


smothering  his  own  bitter 
thoughts  in  the  drama  of  an- 
other. He  watched  with  a 
forced  anxiety  for  the  return 
of  the  boats,  saw  them  return 
unsuccessful  from  their  hope- 
less quest,  and  swing  back  to 
the  davits ;  heard  the  clang  of 
the  engine-room  bell,  and  the 
renewed  pulsation  of  the  engines 
that  fixed  the  fate  of  Charlie 
Conliffe  for  evermore — all  in  a 
kind  of  dream,  absorbed,  yet 
conscious  continually  of  a  great 
heaviness  pressing  upon  his 
mind. 

When  it  was  all  over,  and 
there  was  nothing  left  that  he 
could  push  into  the  foreground, 
his  anguish  returned  upon  him 
tenfold.  At  first  it  was  his 
personal  loss  that  afflicted  him  ; 
then  it  became  an  aching  sorrow 
and  compassion  for  Jocelyn  in 
her  disillusionment.  Later, 
mingled  with  these,  there  ap- 
peared threads  of  a  lighter 
texture  in  the  dark  fabric  of 
his  thoughts.  He  became  con- 
scious of  his  freedom  from  the 
double  deception  that  he  had 
practised  so  painfully.  Even 
at  the  cost  to  Jocelyn  it  was 
worth  it.  He  realised  that  the 
cost  to  her  was  immaterial, 
for  she  would  have  learnt  the 
truth  in  the  end — though  not 
from  him. 

That  was  his  triumph — he 
had  told  her  himself — and  bitter 
though  it  was,  it  was  less 
cowardly  than  to  have  faded 
from  her  Me  and  left  her  to 
learn  the  truth  from  others. 

He  remained  solitary  and 
motionless  by  the  rail  until 
late  into  the  night,  and  then, 


chilled  and  stiff  from  his  long 
immobility,  went  below  to  his 
cabin. 

He  had  not  been  missed. 
Dinner  that  night  seemed  a 
kind  of  sacrilege,  an  insult 
to  the  dead.  The  few  who 
did  appear  at  the  table  did 
so  almost  furtively,  as  if  driven 
against  their  wills  by  the  mere 
physical  want. 

Sir  Evan  and  Lady  Pilth 
had  their  own  reasons  for  ab- 
sence, apart  from  Conliffe's 
death.  Sir  Evan's  wounds  were 
still  too  raw  for  him  to  have 
faced  a  public  in  which  he 
could  no  longer  rejoice  in  his 
own — which  included  his  wife's 
— rectitude. 

Mrs  Upton,  shocked  at  any- 
thing so  actual  as  death,  would 
have  abstained  from  the  table 
even  had  she  not  found  her- 
self called  upon  to  soothe  and 
comfort  a  daughter  who  sobbed 
upon  her  breast  and  clung  to 
her  mother  like  the  child  she 
still  was  at  heart.  Mrs  Upton 
was  bewildered  in  the  presence 
of  her  daughter's  emotion, 
which  seemed  out  of  propor 
tion  to  the  cause  to  which  she 
attributed  it.  Yet  she  mothered 
her  by  instinct,  and  the  girl, 
exhausted  at  last  by  the.  vehe- 
mence of  her  own  emotions, 
sobbed  herself  to  sleep. 

The  widow  of  Charlie  Con- 
liffe lay  in  her  cabin,  tended 
by  the  stewardess,  drained 
empty  of  emotion.  She  had 
gone  through  so  much  that 
she  lay,  her  mind  a  blank, 
practically  unconscious. 

Peter  Brown  paced  the  deck 
in  the  darkness,  his  heart  aching 


80 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


for  her  in  her  affliction — power- 
less to  help,  yet  tingling  with 
the  desire  to  do  something, 
anything,  for  her. 

Of  those  who  did  go  to 
dinner,  the  Honourable  Steven 
Corris  was  the  only  one  who 
attempted  to  talk.  Snubbed 
by  Captain  Spedley  (whose 
duties  demanded  that  he  should 
be  present),  he  turned  for  con- 
solation to  Mr  and  Mrs  Cohun 
Balke,  from  whom  he  could 
extract  nothing  but  monosyl- 
lables, and  was  at  last  reluc- 
tantly reduced  to  silence. 


At  the  other  table,  Mr 
Goneram  had  no  supporters 
but  Scrymgeour  and  Murray, 
and  not  a  word  was  spoken 
throughout  the  meal.  The  two 
Scotchmen  behaved  throughout 
with  the  hushed  solemnity  that 
they  were  accustomed  to  at 
the  funerals  of  their  native 
land.  Even  in  the  laying  down 
of  a  fork  or  a  spoon,  they 
took  care  that  the  unnatural 
silence  should  remain  unbroken. 
It  was  their  manner  of  express- 
ing their  sorrow  at  the  catas- 
trophe. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


There  was  little  to  relieve 
the  gloom  of  the  remaining 
days  of  the  voyage.  The  re- 
collection of  Charlie  Conliffe's 
tragic  death  hung  over  the 
Bedouin  like  a  fog,  and  would, 
of  itself,  have  chilled  the  spirits 
of  the  passengers,  even  had 
many  of  them  not  had  more  in- 
timate troubles  to  brood  upon. 

Jocelyn  Upton  awoke  from 
a  night  of  broken  and  tortured 
sleep,  almost  convinced  at  first 
that  all  that  had  passed  be- 
tween Frank  and  herself  was 
a  wild  nightmare.  That  delu- 
sion passed  only  too  quickly, 
and  left  her  to  face  the  cold 
accomplished  facts. 

She  shuddered  at  the  recol- 
lection of  her  own  loss  of  con- 
trol, the  harsh  words  she  had 
spoken,  the  cruelty  of  the  blow 
that  she  had  struck  in  the  fury 
of  her  disillusionment.  How- 
ever gross  the  provocation,  she 
could  never  forgive  herself  for 
that  degrading  outbreak. 


There  was  one  thing  she  felt 
she  must  see  to,  and  at  once — 
the  clearing  of  Brown  from 
the  false  position  in  which  she 
was  responsible  for  placing  him. 
The  Honourable  Steven  Corris 
must  know  the  truth,  and,  as 
he  had  spread  the  false  story, 
so  he  must  spread  the  true. 
She  disliked  the  man,  and  was 
fully  conscious  of  how  he  would 
chuckle  inwardly  at  her  mis- 
take. He  had  been  witness  of 
her  intimacy  with  Honiton, 
and  could  not  fail  to  put  a 
construction  of  his  own  —  a 
garbled  guess  at  the  truth — 
on  her  change  of  stories.  That 
she  must  put  up  with  as  part 
of  the  punishment  for  her  over- 
weening self-confidence. 

She  wondered,  too,  if  Honiton 
would  appear  at  table.  How 
could  she  sit  side  by  side  with 
him  at  meals  after  all  that  had 
passed  between  them  ?  At 
first  she  felt  that  she  could  not 
face  the  possibility,  and  then 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


81 


quickly  her  mood  changed. 
It  was  for  him,  not  her,  to 
fear  such  a  meeting.  It  was 
she  who  had  been  so  bitterly 
wronged.  Her  only  error  lay 
in  having  thought  too  well  of 
him. 

Indeed,  she  must  adhere  to 
the  routine  of  the  ship  unless 
her  mother  was  to  be  told  the 
whole  of  her  story,  and  from 
that  exposure  she  shrank. 

Honiton  spared  her  the  em- 
barrassment of  a  meeting.  Late 
in  the  night,  when  he  went  at 
last  to  his  cabin,  he  had  found 
Peter  Brown  still  awake.  Honi- 
ton could  not  hide  all  trace  of 
the  mental  strain  that  he  had 
passed  through.  The  detective 
questioned  him  in  kindly  fash- 
ion and,  surfeited  with  anguish, 
Honiton  broke  down  completely 
and  poured  out,  piecemeal,  the 
whole  story  of  Jocelyn  and 
himself,  omitting  nothing  nor 
in  any  way  extenuating  him- 
self. 

His  story  was  disjointed — 
redundant.  He  tore  it  from 
himself  in  lumps,  as  if  rending 
his  own  flesh,  and  flung  it 
before  his  auditor.  At  times 
he  seemed  almost  to  revel  in 
his  self-torture,  as  though  he 
obtained  a  certain  relief  by 
aggravating  his  own  pain. 

Peter  Brown  listened,  amazed 
and  horrified  by  the  revelation. 
He  could  not  withhold  his  sym- 
pathy, even  though  reason  com- 
pelled him  to  condemn  Honiton 
through  every  stage  of  his  story. 
He  could  call  up  so  well  in  his 
own  mind  the  thoughts,  the 
feelings,  the  desires  that  had 
led  step  by  step  from  one  falsity 
to  another.  Some  of  the  re- 


sponsibility rested  on  his — the 
detective's — own  shoulders,  he 
felt,  for  the  whole  great  snow- 
ball of  lies  that  had  melted  in 
the  heat  of  Honiton's  confes- 
sion had  been  set  rolling  by 
his  own  weakness  in  Cairo. 

No  doubt  his  sympathy  was 
increased  by  his  appreciation 
of  the  fact  that  it  was  the  final 
deception,  in  which  he  him- 
self suffered,  at  which  Honiton 
had  boggled.  It  made  him  feel 
that  the  kindliness  he  could 
not  help  feeling  towards  his 
prisoner  was  reciprocated,  and, 
therefore,  it  still  further  warmed 
his  heart  towards  him. 

Honiton,  exhausted  by  bis 
own  vehemence,  threw  him- 
self upon  the  seat,  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  A  nice  kind  of  game  I've 
played, ' '  he  murmured  brokenly. 
"  After — the  decent  way  you've 
treated  me." 

"  You've  done  me  no  harm," 
said  Peter  Brown.  ' '  I  shouldn't 
have  cared  so  very  much  if 
they  had  got  our  positions 
reversed.  But  as  it  is,  you've 
done  the  straight  thing  all 
round,  and — and  you  ought 
to  feel  the  better  for  it,"  he 
finished  weakly. 

"I've  killed  her  faith  in  me. 
It  was — torture — to  hear  the 
change  in  her  voice." 

By  his  tone,  more  than  his 
words,  Peter  Brown  guessed 
at  something  of  what  he  suf- 
fered. He  could  say  little  to 
help.  Even  his  kindly  tone 
was  an  added  stab  for  Honiton, 
emphasising  as  it  did  the  enor- 
mity of  his  own  betrayal. 

In  the  morning  Honiton  was 
more  collected.  He  had  had 


82 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


time  to  think,  for  sleep  had  not 
come  his  way. 

"  Brown,"  he  said,  as  they 
dressed,  "  I  can't  face  the 
saloon  again.  I  want  you  to 
arrange  for  my  meals  to  be 
brought  here." 

The  detective  did  not  attempt 
to  dissuade  him.  So  it  came 
about  that  Jocelyn  was  freed 
from  the  too  close  association 
that  she  had  feared. 

Her  determination  that  Corris 
should  know  the  real  facts  led 
her  to  seek  him  out  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment.  She 
spoke  to  him  on  deck  soon 
after  breakfast. 

"  I  have  something  further 
to  tell  you,  Mr  Corris,"  she  said 
coldly.  "  Will  you  walk  for- 
ward with  me  ?  " 

She  led  the  way  without 
awaiting  his  answer,  and  he 
followed  cheerfully,  scenting 
some  fresh  scandal.  She  turned 
on  him  when  they  had  reached 
an  isolated  part  of  the  deck, 
and  made  her  disclosure  in  as 
few  words  as  she  could. 

"  If  you  have  repeated  what 
I  told  you  yesterday  to  any 
of  the  passengers,"  she  began, 
"  I  want  you  to  contradict  it 
at  once.  Mr  Brown  is  not 
Oxterham.  He  is  a  detective. 
The  real  Oxterham  is  Mr 
Honiton." 

"  By  Jove  !  I  say,  what  a 
sensation !  And  he  told  you 
he  was " 

"  Don't  let  us  go  into  de- 
tails, Mr  Corns,"  interrupted 
Jocelyn,  disgusted  with  his 
gleeful  appreciation  of  this  fresh 
disclosure.  "  Will  you  give 
me  your  word  that  you  will 
correct  the  story,  if  you  have 


repeated  it  at  all — as  I  have 
no  doubt  you  have  f  " 

"  Eather.  I'll  jolly  soon  put 
that  all  right.  But,  I  say, 
what  a  dirty " 

Jocelyn  was  already  out  of 
earshot.  Having  got  his  pro- 
mise, she  had  no  wish  to  listen 
to  his  comments.  She  took 
her  usual  seat  on  deck,  deter- 
mined to  hide  all  trace  of  her 
suffering. 

Corris,  with  a  new  story  to 
hawk  around,  found  less  interest 
manifested  in  his  fresh  dis- 
closure than  he  anticipated. 

Murray  and  Scrymgeour  re- 
ceived the  news  with  a  solemn 
contempt. 

"  It   was    Broon    yesterday, 

it's  Honiton  the  day A 

wunner  wha  it'll  be  the  morn," 
was  Scrymgeour's  only  com- 
ment, while  Murray  contented 
himself  with  a  scornful  sniff. 

Mrs  Upton,  also,  appeared 
to  take  the  fresh  story  very 
quietly,  but  the  Honourable 
Steven  would  have  been  deeply 
gratified  had  he  been  able  to 
hear  the  thumping  of  her  heart 
as  she  listened  to  him. 

She  understood  now  her 
daughter's  abandon  of  the  pre- 
vious night.  It  was  no  mere 
hysterical  outburst  caused  by 
the  shock  of  Conliffe's  terrible 
end.  She  sat  long,  after  Corris 
left  her,  meditating  on  this 
new  aspect  of  her  daughter. 
She  could  only  guess  at  the 
relations  that  had  existed  be- 
tween Honiton  and  Jocelyn, 
but  she  realised  that  there  was 
something  of  tragedy  for  the 
girl  in  the  news  that  she  had 
just  heard. 

Should    she    speak    of    it  ? 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


83 


Jocelyn  had  not  seen  fit  to 
unbosom  herself,  and  her 
mother's  innate  reticence  made 
her  shrink  from  trying  to  force 
the  girl's  confidence.  She  took 
the  easier  path,  and  determined 
to  wait  until  Jocelyn  chose  to 
make  her  her  confidante. 

The  Honourable  Steven's 
greatest  disappointment,  how- 
ever, was  in  the  reception 
given  by  Sir  Evan  and  Lady 
Pilth  to  his  news.  He  had 
some  difficulty  in  finding  an 
opportunity  to  talk  to  them, 
as,  for  no  apparent  reason, 
they  took  suddenly  to  spending 
the  greater  part  of  their  time 
in  their  own  cabin.  It  was  not 
until  the  second  day  after 
Charlie  Conliffe's  death  that 
they  appeared  on  deck,  with 
a  strange  reticence  in  their 
demeanour,  unfathomable,  for- 
tunately, by  Corns. 

"  I  say,  Sir  Evan,"  began  the 
inveterate  gossip,  joining  the 
old  couple  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity, "  here's  a  queer  start. 
It  turns  out  that  it  isn't  Brown 
after  all,  but  Honiton,  who  is  on 
his  way  home  to  jail.  He  tried 
to  put  it  off  on  the  other  man, 
but  he  soon  found  that  that 
wouldn't  wash,  so  he  had  to 
own  up.  You'll  have  to  look 
in  another  quarter  for  the  dia- 
monds now,  eh  1  " 

Lady  Pilth  kept  her  eyes 
lowered,  and  when  she  raised 
them,  it  was  always  to  glance 
quickly  at  her  husband,  almost 
with  the  look  of  a  dog  at  its 
master,  and  lower  them  as 
quickly. 

"Indeed,  is  that  so,  Mr 
Corns  ?  "  replied  Sir  Evan, 
his  brows  drawn  together  in 


thought.  "  Is  this  informa- 
tion thoroughly  well  authenti- 
cated ?  " 

"  Absolutely.  It  came  from 
Honiton  himself.  I  expect  he 
soon  saw  the  other  story  would 
get  round  to  Brown,  and  then 
the  fat  would  be  in  the  fire." 

"  Yes,  yes — quite  so,"  said 
Sir  Evan  absently.  "  Yes, 
thank  you,  thank  you." 

"  What  d'you  mean  to  do 
about  it  ?  "  asked  Corns  in- 
quisitively. "  Still  going  to 
leave  it  to  the  Liverpool 
police  ?  " 

"  In  the  face  of  the  terrible 
tragedy  that  has  taken  place 
aboard,  in  which  that  misguided 
man  Conliffe  lost  his  life — 
partly,  perhaps,  through  brood- 
ing over  this  very  matter — I 
do  not  feel  myself  justified  in 
taking  any  further  steps." 

It  was  fortunate  that  none 
but  Peter  Brown  had  seen 
Charlie  hurl  the  necklace  into 
the  sea.  Another  explanation 
would  then  have  been  neces- 
sary, if  only  to  clear  the  dead 
man's  character  from  the  im- 
putation of  theft.  As  it  was, 
the  Honourable  Steven  was 
astounded. 

"  But,  dash  it,  sir,  you  don't 
mean  to  let  the  thief  get  off 
with  a  haul  like  that  ?  "  he 
exclaimed. 

"  I — I'd  rather  not  discuss 
the  subject,  sir.  It  is  entirely 
a  personal  matter,"  replied  Sir 
Evan  weakly.  "  My  dear,  the 
air  is  a  little  cool.  Let  me 
take  you  below." 

Corris  was  left  strangely  in- 
trigued by  this  new  develop- 
ment, but  luckily  for  the  Pilthe 
there  was  nothing  to  help  him 


84 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


to  a  solution  of  the  mystery. 
He  discussed  the  matter  in 
detail  with^Mr  and  Mrs  Cohun 
Balke,  in  whom  alone  he  found 
a  proper  appreciation  of  his 
information,  but,  while  intense- 
ly interested,  they  were  unable 
to  form  a  reasonable  theory  of 
Sir  Evan's  change  of  face. 

There  was  one  person  to 
whom  the  Honourable  Steven 
failed  to  convey  the  news  that 
Honiton  and  not  Brown  was 
the  man  under  arrest,  and  that 
the  most  nearly  affected  of 
all — Joan  Conliffe.  He  never 
had  the  opportunity.  From 
the  time  of  her  husband's  death 
she  did  not  leave  her  cabin. 
For  two  days  she  lay  in  her 
berth  attended  by  the  stew- 
ardess, recovering  slowly  from 
the  shock  to  her  emotions. 

Her  main  feeling  was  one  of 
a  weight  lifted  from  her  mind. 
She  could  not  profess  sorrow 
to  herself.  Her  husband's  end 
brought  with  it  relief  from 
constant  pain  and  anxiety,  and 
she  was  too  honest  at  heart 
to  pretend  otherwise. 

As  she  grew  stronger,  how- 
ever, and  her  thoughts  reached 
beyond  the  suddenness  and 
horror  of  Charlie's  death,  a 
new  weight  began  to  replace 
the  old.  She  had  but  exchanged 
one  sorrow  for  another. 

This  man,  whom  she  knew 
that  she  loved — to  whom  she 
turned  for  help  in  her  worst 
trouble — was  a  criminal.  All 
that  Corris  had  told  her  rushed 
back  to  her  mind  at  the  re- 
collection of  Peter  Brown  with 
Lady  Filth's  necklace  in  his 
hand.  This  one  theft,  of  which 
she  was  herself  cognisant,  was 


more  to  her  than  all  the  stories 
of  his  past  crimes,  and  yet 
this  same  theft  as  she  believed 
it  was  not  all  against  him. 
There  were  moments  when  she 
could  only  see  his  natural 
kindness  and  sympathy  shining 
the  more  strongly  in  the  sparkle 
of  the  stolen  diamonds.  For 
her  sake — if  not  for  her  hus- 
band's— he  had  betrayed  him- 
self, or  had,  at  least,  been  pre- 
pared to  betray  himself.  She 
could  not  but  set  it  to  his 
credit. 

She  would  not  see  him,  hov;  - 
ever,  nor  yet  send  him  a 
message.  More  than  once  he 
had  spoken  to  the  stewardess, 
and  sent  word  to  Mrs  Conliffe 
that  he  was  anxious  to  be  of 
service  to  her.  She  would  only 
shake  her  head  silently.  She 
felt  she  must  not  see  him — 
perhaps  dared  not. 

Peter  Brown,  meanwhile,  was 
ignorant  of  the  false  impres- 
sion that  she  had  formed. 
He  did  not  know  that  Corris 
had  told  her  of  Oxterham, 
and  it  did  not  occur  to  him 
that  the  sight  of  the  jewels  in 
his  hands  would  lead  her  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  had  stolen 
them.  He  might  have  seen 
the  danger  had  he  had  the 
freedom  to  think,  but  he  had 
many  things  to  worry  him — 
his  fear  of  her  collapse  after 
the  strain  that  she  had  ex- 
perienced ;  the  state  of  de- 
pression into  which  Honiton 
had  fallen  after  his  confession 
in  the  night ;  the  pain  of  his 
sympathy  for  the  disillusioned 
girl,  Jocelyn ;  and  also,  the 
promise  he  had  made  to  Sir 
Evan  Pilth  to  see  Captain 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


85 


Spedley    and    come    to    terms 
with  him. 

He  was  able  to  fulfil  that 
promise.  He  had  a  long  private 
interview  with  the  Captain  in 
the  chart-room,  in  which  he 
told  the  whole  story  of  the 
incidents  that  had  taken  place 
aboard  the  Bedouin  as  he  knew 
it.  He  had  to  disclose  his  own 
identity  as  well  as  that  of 
Honiton,  but  that  mattered 
little.  The  secret  was  already 
out,  though  to  Captain  Spedley 
it  came  as  a  revelation,  and 
one  at  which  he  was  at  first 
inclined  to  be  indignant.  This 
feeling  was  quite  lost,  however, 
in  the  anger  with  which  he 
received  the  story  of  Lady 
Filth's  revenge  upon  Charlie 
Conliffe.  At  first  he  would 
not  hear  of  hushing  up  such 
an  outrageous  plot.  His  natural 
irritation  at  Sir  Evan's  public 
attack  upon  him  biassed  his 
decision,  and  Peter  Brown  had 
the  utmost  difficulty  in  moving 
him. 

He  had  to  exert  all  his  powers 
of  persuasion.  He  pictured 
the  working  of  Lady  Filth's 
mind,  her  terrible  remorse  at 
the  fatal  result  of  her  action, 
Sir  Evan's  pathetic  grief  at 
the  discovery  of  his  wife's 
deceit,  until,  finally,  he  brought 
Captain  Spedley  round  to  his 
own  point  of  view. 

"  Damn  it,  Brown,  you're  a 
good  sort,"  he  surrendered  at 
last,  explosively.  "  If  you,  a 
police  officer,  can  hush  this 
business  up,  I  can  do  no  less — 
though  how  you  come  to  be  a 
detective,  I'm  damned  if  I 
know.  You're  far  too  soft- 
hearted. This  business  with 


Oxterham  again — it's  most  un- 
professional, I  should  think." 

"  I  suppose  it  is,"  agreed 
Peter  Brown  with  a  whimsical 
apologetic  smile.  "  Still,  why 
should  the  poor  chap  suffer 
before  his  time  f  " 

He  sighed  heavily  as  he 
rose  and  held  out  his  hand  to 
the  Captain,  who  grasped  it 
heartily. 

"  I  thank  you  whole-hearted- 
ly on  behalf  of  Sir  Evan  and 
Lady  Filth,"  he  said  earnestly. 
"I'm  sure  you  will  excuse 
them  speaking  of  this  person- 
ally. It  would  hurt  them  too 
much." 

"  It's  you  they  have  to 
thank,  Brown,"  replied  Captain 
Spedley  bluntly.  "  For  myself, 
I'd  have  let  them  suffer — her 
for  her  sins,  and  him  for  his 
confounded  cheek.  However, 
you've  got  me  down  and  out. 
As  I  said  before,  how  you  ever 
came  to  be  a  detective  I'm 
damned  if  I  know  !  " 

Brown  smiled  at  him  whimsi- 
cally. 

"  I'm  damned  if  I  know 
either,"  he  said.  "  It's  a  heart- 
breaking job." 

It  was  a  satisfaction,  yet  an 
embarrassment,  to  carry  the 
news  to  the  Filths.  Lady 
Pilth  was  silent  and  tearful  in 
her  shame  and  remorse,  Sir 
Evan  full  of  an  earnest  grati- 
tude that  showed  itself  best 
by  stilling  his  usual  sonorous 
periods.  His  voice  trembled, 
his  words  were  few  and  broken, 
and  Peter  Brown  had  never 
liked  him  so  much. 

It  was  only  after  gaining  this 
knowledge  of  their  security 
that  they  ventured  again  on 


86 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


deck.    Even  then  it  was  under    catastrophe,  and   passed   with 


protest  that  they  mixed  with 
the  passengers,  the  detective 
pointing  out  the  necessity  for 
giving  no  cause  for  gossip. 


little    comment.      What    there 
was,  was  self-congratulatory. 

Only  the  Honourable  Steven 
Corns  watched  the  old  couple 


Sir  Evan's  new  and  welcome  with  an  unsatisfied  hunger  for 
silence  was  put  down  to  the  knowledge  destined  never  to 
gloom  cast  over  the  ship  by  the  be  sated. 


CHAPTER  XXVH. 


The  terrible  fit  of  depression 
into  which  Honiton  fell  after 
his  confession  to  Jocelyn  com- 
municated itself  to  Peter  Brown. 
It  is  impossible  to  share  a 
room  with  a  man  and  not  be 
subject  to  some  extent  to  his 
moods,  and  the  detective  was 
peculiarly  sensitive.  Instead 
of  experiencing  a  growing  sense 
of  relief  at  the  approaching  end 
of  his  responsibility,  he  became 
more  and  more  downcast  at 
thought  of  the  fate  to  which 
he  was  doomed  to  deliver  his 
prisoner. 

Honiton  would  not  leave  the 
cabin  except  after  dark,  when 
he  went  on  deck  for  air  and 
solitary  exercise.  His  meals 
were  served  to  him  under  pro- 
test by  a  supercilious  steward, 
who  made  no  secret  of  having 
heard  of  Honiton's  true  char- 
acter. Honiton  judged  of  the 
reception  he  would  meet  with 
from  the  passengers  by  his 
treatment  at  the  hands  of  this 
self  -  righteous  and  self  -  ap- 
pointed judge,  thereby  doing 
some  of  them  a  great  injustice, 
as  he  was  to  discover. 

Brown  would  have  spent  the 
great  part  of  his  time  with 
him,  but  to  this  Honiton  would 
not  consent. 


"I'd  rather  be  alone,  old 
friend,"  he  said.  "  You  needn't 
be  afraid  to  leave  me.  I'm 
not  the  sort  to  cut  my  throat 
or  hang  myself  from  a  coat- 
peg.  Get  along  on  deck,  there's 
a  good  chap." 

Brown  felt  uncomfortable  and 
showed  it,  for  the  idea  had  been 
in  his  mind. 

Honiton  laughed  bitterly  as 
he  saw  how  his  words  had  gone 
home. 

"  So  you  thought  that  of 
me,  did  you  ?  "  he  said  sadly. 
"  It  just  shows  the  depth  of 
misery  I've  sunk  to.  But  don't 
be  afraid,  old  friend,  I  shan't 
let  you  down  again.  You'll 
deliver  the  goods  all  right." 

How  he  filled  in  the  weary 
days  Brown  did  not  know. 
An  open  book  lay  always  to 
hand,  but  it  was  always  the 
same  book,  and  he  never  found 
Honiton  reading  it.  For  the 
most  part  he  seemed  to  sit, 
his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees, 
his  firm  chin  in  his  cupped 
hands — brooding. 

On  deck  Peter  Brown  was 
no  less  unhappy  than  below. 
To  one  who  did  not  know, 
Jocelyn  Upton  seemed,  no 
doubt,  much  as  before,  with 
just  the  subdued  manner  that 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


87 


the  tragedy  of  Charlie  Conliffe 
would  lead  one  to  anticipate. 
Peter  Brown  knew,  however, 
and  he  could  not  refrain  from 
watching  the  girl.  He  could 
see  beneath  the  surface  calm 
the  raw  misery  that  she  hid 
from  others.  When  she  rose 
abruptly  and  walked  for'ard 
to  lean  over  the  rail  and  gaze 
out  across  the  sea,  he  knew 
that  it  was  because  she  could 
retain  her  calm  no  longer  in 
the  presence  of  her  fellows. 
Sometimes  as  she  sat,  a  book 
open  blindly  on  her  lap,  he 
would  notice  the  gleam  of 
tears  afloat  upon  her  eyes,  or 
a  sudden  twitch  of  her  pretty 
lips — quickly  controlled — that 
told  him  much.  Again  her 
brows  would  knit  in  anger, 
and  her  fair  head  toss  as 
if  spurning  some  insulting 
thought. 

Upon  such  slight  indications, 
Peter  constructed  his  picture 
of  the  girl's  mind,  and  his 
heart  went  out  to  her  in  sym- 
pathy. He  had  no  idea  that 
he  would  ever  dare  to  speak 
to  her  on  the  subject  that  was 
in  both  of  their  minds  until 
towards  the  end  of  the  second 
day,  when,  upon  the  impulse 
of  the  moment,  he  seated  him- 
self in  an  empty  deck-chair 
by  her  side  and  placed  his  long 
lean  fingers  kindly  over  her 
hand. 

Her  mother  had  left  her  a 
few  minutes  before,  and  there 
was  no  one  near.  Thinking 
herself  unnoticed,  she  had  re- 
laxed the  tension  to  which  she 
subjected  herself  when  under 
observation,  and,  as  though 
thankful  for  the  release,  large 


tears  overflowed  her  eyes  and 
glistened  as  they  dropped  from 
her  cheeks. 

A  sudden  wave  of  pity  over- 
whelmed Peter  Brown.  She 
looked  so  young  and  helpless 
to  be  sunk  so  deeply  in  misery. 
Under  the  sway  of  this  emotion 
his  habitual  diffidence  left  him, 
and  with  an  utter  and  unusual 
absence  of  self-consciousness  he 
went  to  her  side. 

Jocelyn  looked  up  aston- 
ished, her  eyes  bright  with 
tears,  and  as  she  saw  the  under- 
standing in  the  detective's  face 
a  look  of  fear  appeared  upon 
her  own.  She  withdrew  her 
hand  hastily  from  beneath  his, 
and,  turning  her  face  from 
him,  hurriedly  dried  her  eyes. 

"Miss  Upton,"  began  Peter 
Brown,  full  of  his  impromptu 
mission  of  pity.  "  Please  for- 
give a  man  so  much  older  than 
yourself  for  butting  in.  I 
want  to  help  you  if  I  can. 
Honiton  has  told  me  every- 
thing, and  I  would  like  you 
to  look  on  me  as  a  friend." 

"  He  told  you  everything  !  " 
she  said,  turning  upon  him 
quickly.  "Then  you  know " 

She  hesitated,  and  Peter 
Brown  took  up  her  words. 

"  I  know  how  he  misled  you, 
and  I  know  how  bitterly  he 
suffered  —  is  suffering.  Yet, 
somehow,  I  can't  blame  him 
as  he  deserves.  I  feel,  too, 
how  much  I  am  at  fault  myself 
for  agreeing  to  travel  under 
false  pretences.  You  must  not 
think  too  hardly  of  him,  Miss 
Upton.  I  am  sure  he  did  not 
want  to  hurt  you,  but  he  was 
carried  away  by  the — by  the 
very  love  that  should  have 


88 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


held  him  back.  He  is  to  be 
pitied  more  than  blamed." 

Jocelyn  listened  to  him  in 
growing  wonder. 

"  You  say  you  know  every- 
thing," she  said  when  he 
paused.  "  Did  he  tell  you  I — 
how  I  received  his  confession  ?  " 

"  He  was  in  an  agony  of 
remorse  for  the  pain  he  had 
caused  you.  He  told  me  noth- 
ing more  than  that." 

"  He  did  not  tell  you  that  I 
struck  him  a  cruel  blow  in 
the  face;  that  I  called  him — 
things  that  I  cannot  repeat  for 
shame  ?  "  she  said,  her  voice 
bitter,  and  her  face  white  and 
drawn. 

Peter  Brown  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  no,"  he  answered. 
"  You  do  not  know  him  if  you 
think  he  would  have  told  me 
that." 

"  Not  know  him  !  You  speak 
of  him  like  that,  yet  you  know 
how  he  lied  to  me  about  you  ?  " 

The  detective  smiled  sadly. 

"  Aye,  I  know  that,"  he 
said.  "  You  must  remember 
that  he  told  that  lie  in  despera- 
tion, to  shield  you  from  the 
pain  of  finding  out  who  he 
really  was.  Even  then,  he 
found  he  couldn't  bear  to  let 
me  down.  That's  what  I  like 
about  him  so  much,  Miss  Up- 
ton— his  staunchness.  Perhaps 
you  remember  that  night  at 
Malta  when  we  lost  him  1  I 
thought  he  was  gone  for  ever, 
and  that  I  was  ruined — it  would 
have  meant  ruin  for  me — but 
though  he  was  free  to  go,  did 
he  take  the  chance  ?  Not  he. 
He  stuck  to  the  bargain  he 
had  made  with  me,  and  came 
back  to  stand  his  trial." 


"  True  !  I  did  not  see — of 
course  I  did  not  know  then — 
what  he  was,"  said  Jocelyn 
slowly  and  thoughtfully.  "I 
did  not  realise  until  this  mo- 
ment the  sacrifice  he  must  have 
made.  But  why  do  you  tell 
me  all  this  ?  What  do  you 
want  me  to  do  1  " 

"  Think  more  kindly  of  him," 
replied  Peter  Brown  quickly. 
"  That  is  all.  The  better  the 
light  in  which  you  can  look  at 
him,  the  less  pain  you  will 
suffer  through  having  loved 
him." 

"  Mr  Brown,  I  feel  I  can  talk 
to  you  as  I  could  to  nobody 
else,"  declared  Jocelyn  upon 
a  sudden  impulse  ;  "  I've  been 
thinking  so  hard  these  last  two 
days,  but  I  get  no  further.  I 
don't  understand — I  can't  un- 
derstand. How  can  he  be — 
what  he  is,  and  yet — well,  you 
like  him,  Mr  Brown,  even  now. 
You  take  his  part,  you  pick 
out  the  best  things  to  say  of 
him,  and — still  he  is  a  self- 
confessed  thief." 

"  You're  young,  my  dear," 
said  the  detective  kindly.  "  And 
everything  is  black  or  white 
to  you.  When  you  are  as  old 
as  I  am — and  that's  not  so 
very  old  after  all — I'm  not 
forty — you'll  learn  that  every- 
thing looks  drab,  but  it  isn't. 
It's  speckled  so  finely  with 
black  and  white  that  it  seems 
drab,  and  it's  only  when  you 
look  into  things  with  seeing 
eyes  that  the  particles  show  up. 
Because  a  man  acts  badly  in 
one  direction  you  mustn't  con- 
demn him  all  round,  any  more 
than  you  must  look  on  a  man 
as  a  saint  just  because  he  has 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


89 


a  kindly  heart.  We're  a  funny 
mixture  —  aye,  women  more 
than  men !  " 

"It's  a  horrid  way  to  think 
of  life,"  said  Jocelyn  piteously. 
"  Can  one  trust  nobody  ?  " 

"  Yes,  one  can  trust — I  am 
trusting  Honiton  now.  You 
must  learn  to  distinguish  the 
white  from  the  black  in  the 
drab  of  life,  my  dear." 

Jocelyn  turned  her  head  away 
and  made  no  answer.  It  was 
some  time  before  Peter  Brown 
realised  that  she  was  quietly 
crying.  Instinct  kept  him 
silent. 

"  Mr  Brown,"  she  said  when 
she  had  somewhat  recovered, 
"is  it  possible  that  there  is 
something  behind  all  this  ?  Can 
he  be  sacrificing  himself  for 
some  one  ?  Oh,  if  it  turned 
out " 

"  Put  that  idea  away,  my 
dear,"  said  the  detective  sadly 
but  with  firmness.  "If  I 
could  give  you  hope,  I  would 
gladly,  but  you  must  look  facts 
in  the  face.  He  is  guilty  if 
ever  a  man  was." 

"  I  did  not  really  hope.  But 
oh — how  can  one  stop — loving 
somebody — suddenly,  just  be- 
cause he  is — wicked  ?  When 
he  told  me,  I  thought  I — hated 
him.  I  struck  him,  Mr  Brown 
— but  it  was  not  that.  It  was 
because  I  loved  him  so  much. 
I  know  it  now,  and  I — I  can't 
help  loving  him  still." 

What  could  he  say  ?  Tell 
her  she  would  get  over  it  in 
time — that  she  was  very  young, 
and  her  feelings  were  less  deep 
than  she  imagined  1  He  pitied 
her  too  much  in  the  present 
to  tell  her  the  foolish  truth. 


Perhaps  the  kindly  pressure 
of  his  hand  on  hers  and  the 
sympathy  of  his  silence  were 
of  more  help  to  her  than  any- 
thing he  could  have  said. 

Before  he  left  her  he  spoke 
to  her  once  again. 

"  You  will  think  less  bitterly 
of  him  V  he  asked  gently. 

"  How  can  I  tell  t  "  she 
answered.  "  I  am  out  of  my 
depth.  I  can't  think.  But  I 
thank  you — I  can't  tell  you 
how  much  I  thank  you — for 
coming  to  me." 

He  would  have  left  her  then, 
but  she  called  him  back. 

"  Mr  Brown — tell  me — why 
do  we  never  see  him  t  "  she 
asked  hesitatingly. 

"  Now  that  they  all  know, 
he  says  he  is  ashamed  to 
meet  them,"  he  answered. 
"Most  of  all,  I  think,  he 
wishes  to  spare  you  the  pain 
of  seeing  him  again.  He  keeps 
to  our  cabin,  and  only  comes 
on  deck  after  dark." 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  her  eyes 
looking  thoughtfully  out  to 
sea. 

Long  after  he  had  gone  she 
sat  motionless,  debating  in  her 
mind  a  course  of  action.  At 
last  she  sighed,  as  she  came  to 
a  decision,  and  rose  to  walk  the 
deck  to  fill  in  the  long  time  of 
waiting. 

Peter  Brown  went  to  the 
smoking-room,  chose  a  corner 
where  he  would  not  be  dis- 
turbed, and  filled  his  pipe 
slowly.  He  thought  over  all 
that  he  had  said,  and  wondered 
if  he  had  done  rightly.  Would 
it  not  have  been  better  to  have 
left  her  to  look  upon  Honiton 
in  the  worst  possible  light  T 


90 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[July 


She  would  have  got  over  it 
the  sooner.  True,  but  she 
would  have  been  left  with  a 
scar  upon  her  heart  that  would 
have  disfigured  her  outlook  for 
life.  A  softer  memory  would 
be  less  permanent,  though  the 
healing  might  be  slower.  It 
was  difficult  to  be  sure,  but  he 
thought  that  what  he  had  done 
was  for  her  good. 

His  thoughts  turned  to  Joan 
Conliffe.  He  was  worried  at 
her  continued  silence.  He  had 
the  assurance  of  the  stewardess 
that  there  was  nothing  seriously 
wrong  with  her  health,  and  that 
the  sole  reason  for  her  seclusion 
was  her  dislike  of  meeting  the 
passengers  and  suffering  the 
inevitable  condolences  upon 
her  husband's  death.  Yet  she 
would  send  him  no  message. 

There  had  been  growing  in 
his  mind  a  vague  hope  which 
he  hardly  dared  admit  to  him- 
self, based  upon  Joan  Con- 
liffe's  call  upon  him  in  her 
need.  There  was  a  feeling 
of  affinity  between  them  that 
even  his  modesty  could  not 
ignore.  Now  that  she  was  free 
— he  feared  to  let  his  thoughts 
go  further,  yet  he  was  con- 
stantly alert  for  the  longed- 
for  message,  calling  him  again 
to  her  side. 

He  was  aroused  from  his 
reflections  by  Murray,  who  had 
left  his  friend  Scrymgeour  at 
the  far  side  of  the  room,  and 
crossed  to  the  corner  in  which 
the  detective  sat.  He  had  a 


sheepish  look  upon  his  face, 
and  hesitated  before  he  spoke. 

"  Guid  day  tae  ye,  Mr  Broon," 
he  said,  and  cleared  his  throat 
as  though  about  to  continue. 

"Good  day,"  said  Peter 
Brown,  and  looked  at  him 
questioningly. 

Murray  returned  the  look, 
and  seemed  in  desperation  for 
words. 

"It's  lit'  this,  Mr  Broon," 
he  began,  and  then  despicably 
shoved  the  responsibility  on 
his  distant  friend.  "  Scrym- 
geour sent  me  ower  tae  ax  after 
Mr  Honiton.  He  was  dootin' 
he  micht  be  no'  weel." 

"  Well,  hardly  that,"  replied 
Peter  Brown  honestly.  "  I 
thought  it  was  already  common 
knowledge  that " 

"  Hoots  !  There's  a'  sorts 
o'  havers  aboot.  A  ken  that 
fine.  That  wee  clypin'  body 
Corris  boakes  them  up  lik' 
vomit.  It  doesna  dae  tae 
heed  the  like  o'  his  clash. 
What  Scrymgeour  was  thinkin' 
was  that  ye  micht  mebbe  ax 
Mr  Honiton  tae  drap  in  an' 
ha'e  a  nip  wi'  us — wi'  Scrym- 
geour, A  mean." 

"  I'll  tell  him,  you  may  be 
sure,"  replied  Peter  Brown, 
warming  to  the  old  Scotchman 
in  his  embarrassed  kindliness. 
"  Whether  he'll  come  or  not  of 
course  I  can't  say." 

"A'  richt,  A'll  tell  Scrym- 
geour," said  Murray  hastily,  and 
with  that  absurd  excuse  retired 
to  his  own  side  of  the  room. 


(To  &«  concluded.) 


1921.] 


91 


AS  BEFITS  MY  POSITION.— II. 


BY  MRS  SAMUEL  PEPYS. 


(BEING  EXTRACTS  FROM  HER  DIARY.) 


THIS  day  my  r  husband  did 
carry  me  to  the  Wardrobe 
House  in  Whitehall,  where  my 
lord  and  lady  Sandwich,  as 
we  must  now  call  them,  do 
keepe  great  state ;  he  being 
Keeper  of  the  King's  Ward- 
robe and  a  great  Officer  of  the 
Court.  Strange  how  this  Bes- 
toration  of  our  King  do  bring 
changes,  both  small  and  great. 
However,  as  my  husband  do 
say,  we  have  naught  to  vex 
ourselves  over  in  this  matter 
of  Montagu's  greatness,  he  be- 
ing in  some  sort  our  cousin, 
and  seeming  well-disposed  to 
draw  us  up  with  him,  if  so  be 
we  behave  ourselves  with  pru- 
dence, being  truly  useful,  and 
not  seeming,  by  our  dress  or 
behaviour,  in  any  sort  unfit  to 
be  raised. 

My  friend  Pegg  Woffat  do 
foresee  in  this  great  danger  to 
our  souls.  But  she  is  a  stead- 
fast Puritan,  though  too  wise 
to  let  it  be  known.  Also,  she 
could  not  rise  if  she  would, 
having  no  great  connections  ; 
and  her  husband  only  a  Master- 
carpenter. 

CoronaSon  Day.  April  23rd, 
1661.— The  Greatest  and  Hap- 
piest Day  that  we  have  ever 
seen,  or,  I  think,  shall  see. 
Myself,  by  right  or  by  favour 
to  my  good  husband,  did  have 


a  place  in  Westminster  Hall, 
on  a  little  scaffold  to  the  right 
as  you  go  in,  to  see  the  King's 
great  dinner  with  all  his  lords  : 
the  King  with  his  crown  on, 
and  scepter  in  hand ;  and  so 
many  and  strange  grave  cere- 
monys  as  never  I  would  have 
dreamed  :  and  so  there  I  staid 
in  great  pride  and  content- 
ment ;  and  did  eat  for  my 
own  part  half  a  pullet  and  some 
sweet  cakes  that  my  dear  Pegg 
did  put  up  for  me,  that  I  might 
not  be  shamed  for  the  plain- 
ness of  my  food  among  all  the 
great  ladies.  For  indeed,  all 
being  in  such  a  fuss  at  home  to 
get  ourselves  drest  and  start 
out  all  going  our  severall  ways 
and  shutting  up  the  house,  I 
had  thought  to  have  took  a 
plain  hunch  of  bread  and  cheese 
in  my  pocket  to  stay  my 
hunger  with.  I  did  see  my 
husband  in  the  crowd  below, 
and  presently  spied  one  coming 
to  him  from  my  lord  with  four 
rabbits  and  a  pullet,  and  my 
husband  and  2  more  did  eat 
it  standing  at  a  stall  the  best 
they  could  and  seeming  well 
pleased.  Afterwards  he  did 
come  for  me  and  we  staid  out 
most  all  night;  there  being  great 
sport  and  joy  every  where.  Then 
at  last,  Mrs  F.  and  I  to  bed 
together  at  Mrs  Hunt's,  being 
unable  to  get  home  because  of 


92 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


[July 


the  dirt,  and  no  coaches  to  be 
had  any  where :  my  husband 
meaning  to  go,  so  he  sayd,  to 
sleep  at  my  lord's.  But  what 
he  did  the  rest  of  the  night  I 
know  not. 

This  day,  Pegg  and  I  being 
set[;to  cutting  and  patching  of 
all^our  old  table-linen,  I  did 
tell~her  somewhat  of  my  trouble 
concerning  the  tales  I  do  hear 
about  my  husband.  Whereat 
she  did  turn  on  me,  saying 
that  a  good  wife  doe  hold  such 
talk  in  check,  not  suffering 
such  things  to  be  said  in  her 
hearing,  whether  they  be  true 
or  false ;  and  I  did  taunt  her, 
being  vext  that  she  should 
judge  me,  saying  she  knew 
nothing  of  life  and  I  liked  not 
meddlesome  women,  with  more 
of  the  same  sort.  And  so  we 
parted  in  anger,  for  which  I 
am  sorry.  Nor  can  I  pacify 
her  with  a  gift,  as  might  be 
done  with  some.  Eather  will 
I  ask  of  her  some  small  favour, 
when  the  time  shall  be  ripe 
for  us  to  be  sweet  again,  for 
she  is  a  true  friend. 

My  husband  took  me  to 
Drury  Lane  to  see  the  French 
comedy,  and  there  I  did  meet 
Mr  Tom  Somersett,  that  I  knew 
in  old  days  in  France.  Ah 
me  !  how  the  sight  of  him  did 
bring  back  the  gay  old  times, 
and  the  sweet  light  air  of  Paris 
and  the  sharp  French  wit. 
We  was  poverty-stricken  exiles 
then,  and  all  our  talk  was  of 
our  longing  for  the  Restoration 
of  the  Monarchy  and  our  return 
to  England.  But  indeed  for 


us  young  ones,  it  was  more  a 
hope  to  guild  our  future  than 
a  dark  shadow  over  our  pleas- 
ant days.  I  do  find  Mr  S. 
grown  into  a  very  fine  man, 
with  quite  the  grand  manner. 
He  would  meet  with  me  again, 
to  speak  at  greater  length  about 
old  days,  and  I  am  nothing  loth. 

This  day,  being  at  the  Ward- 
robe, in  my  lady's  chamber, 
she  did  speak  to  me  of  my  usual 
dress,  saying  it  was  hardly  fit 
for  my  husband's  present  posi- 
tion, to  say  nothing  of  what  he 
may  look  forward  to  in  the 
near  future.  She  did  say  with- 
out mincing  that  I  am  grown 
into  a  very  beautiful  woman, 
fit  to  grace  any  company,  and 
that  I  must  f  oregoe  my  present 
habit  of  running  about  in  any 
old  thing,  as  I  was  wont  to 
do  in  France  when  I  was  a  slip 
of  a  girl,  and  we  was  known  to 
be  without  a  sou  to  throw 
away  on  gawds.  She  being  so 
frank  and,  I  think,  truly  set 
to  do  us  good,  I  did  tell  her 
somewhat  of  my  husband's  un- 
willingness to  spend  money  on 
my  clothes,  not  seeing  that  it 
might  further  his  hopes,  and 
thinking  only  of  a  woman's 
dress  as  her  own  foolish  vanity. 
And  so  my  lady,  being  a 
woman  that  prides  herself  much 
on  her  knowledge  how  to  man- 
age men,  did,  with  sundry  nods 
and  winks,  leave  me  to  under- 
stand that  she  would  deal  with 
that  matter. 

I  do  see  that  my  lady  hath 
found  means  to  turn  my  hus- 
band's thoughts  to  my  appear- 


1921.] 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


93 


ing  to  be  a  person  of  considera- 
tion. He  did  blame  me  yester- 
een  for  that  my  nails  were  not 
well-trimmed,  hoping  that  I 
should  not  appear  with  them 
so  before  my  lady,  and  I  hav- 
ing spent  most  all  day  a 
polishing  of  all  our  fine  new 
furniture  that  we  have  gotten, 
did  take  it  amiss  from  him. 

With  my  husband  to  the 
Exchange,  where  he  did  buy 
me  a  good  and  costly  tippet, 
not  too  fine,  but  such  as  my 
lady  herself  might  be  wearing 
on  any  ordinary  day ;  and  he 
did  tell  me  not  to  be  too  saving 
of  it,  but  to  wear  it  freely; 
which  is  indeed  most  unlike 
him,  and  shows  me  clearly  that 
my  lady  hath  had  her  finger 
in  that  pie.  So  then  I  did  wear 
it  to  my  lady  without  delay, 
and  she  did  praise  it  much, 
saying  my  husband  hath  such 
good  taste,  which  when  I  did 
tell  him  he  was  pleased,  the 
poor  simple  wretch. 

This  day  we  did  give  a  dinner 
to  sir  William  and  Lady  Batten 
and  all  their  company.  I  like 
her  not,  nor  think  her  in  any 
sort  a  good  neighbour,  but  'tis 
for  my  husband's  interest  that 
we  stand  well  with  her.  My 
husband  and  I,  we  be  like  two 
dogs  hunting  a  hedge,  the  way 
we  do  nose  out  and  follow  after 
anything  that  may  push  his 
fortunes. 

Met  the  young  ladies  of  the 
Wardrobe  on  'Change  and 
helped  them  to  buy  things, 
their  Mademoiselle  being  strange 


to  the  place.  Mr  Somersett 
there  also,  and  did  give  me  a 
bracelet  of  rings  ;  a  thing  of 
no  value,  but  I  was  pleased 
with  it.  And  so  home  and 
showed  it  to  my  husband,  re- 
membering of  my  promise  to 
accept  nothing  at  any  time 
without  his  knowledge,  though 
indeed  there  was  no  bribery 
connected  with  his  office  of  the 
Navy  in  this  matter.  Yet  was 
he  a  little  troubled,  but  said 
there  was  no  hurt  in  it. 

Jem  did  tell  me  this  morning 
with  great  dignity  that,  she 
being  the  daughter  of  my  lord 
and  lady  Sandwich,  it  were 
meet  I  should  call  her,  not 
Jem,  but  my  lady  Jemimah, 
which  made  me  laugh,  whereat 
she  flushed  red  to  the  roots  of 
her  hair.  But  I,  with  great 
punctilio  did  my  lady  her  all 
afternoon,  and  her  brothers  the 
same,  mocking  her,  till  I  think 
she  had  her  lesson  learnt,  poor 
little  silly  wench. 

This  day  a  shewing  of  Pegg 
all  our  fine  new  furniture  for 
our  new  house,  with  the  silver 
plate  we  have,  and  all  the 
other  fine  things  we  have  lately 
gotten.  I  did  much  admire  to 
see  her  fine  unselfish  nature, 
never  once  envying,  or  wishing 
she  had  the  like,  but  finding 
the  most  natural  simple  plea- 
sure at  seeing  and  handling 
such  fine  things,  and  knowing 
us,  her  friends,  to  be  possessed 
of  them.  'Tis  double  joy  to 
have  all  things  nice  when  friends 
are  pleased  at  it.  She  and  her 
husband  to  supper,  we  being 
alone.  My  husband  very  full 


94 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


[July 


of  a  great  dinner  that  my  lord 
doth  give  to  the  Duke  of  York 
this  day  se'n-night.  There  shall 
be,  I  think,  every  fine  dish  that 
man  hath  devised.  He  is 
troubled  for  that  he  is  not 
asked,  but  what  would  you, 
men  must  climb  by  degrees. 
There  are  to  be  three  long  spits 
of  cygnets  roasted  and  the 
grand  dish  to  be  set  in  front 
of  the  Duke,  a  pea  cock  roasted, 
complete  in  all  his  feathers. 
Only,  tame  peacocks  being  very 
hard  to  come  by,  by  reason  of 
the  round  heads  having  de- 
stroyed them  everywhere,  count- 
ing them  to  be  works  of  wicked 
luxury  and  pride,  so  Mrs  Sarah 
the  housekeeper  has  confesst 
to  me  that  the  Duke's  Peacocke 
shall  be  but  a  fat  capon,  fitly 
adorned  with  peacocke's  feath- 
ers. The  which,  if  any  do 
remark,  she  sayd,  he  will  scarce 
be  so  ill-bred  as  to  mention  it. 
Pegg  did  say,  to  my  surprize, 
that  her  great  longing  had 
always  been  to  go  to  a  grand 
feast,  and  eat  freely  of  all  the 
best  and  grandest  things,  that 
are  only  served  at  the  highest 
tables.  Since  when  she  was  a 
child,  she  had  always  longed 
to  taste  that  royall  bird,  a 
cygnet  from  the  Thames.  My 
husband  in  mischief  did  ask  if 
she  would  not  rather  taste  of 
the  peacocke ;  but  she  sayde 
no,  a  peacocke  being  all  for 
show  she  had  no  thought  of 
his  flesh  being  good  for  much. 

To  the  Wardrobe,  where  play- 
ing all  afternoon  in  the  garden 
with  the  children.  Mr  Somer- 
sett  joind  us.  I  was  glad  I 


had  on  my  new  tippet,  and 
indeed,  he  did  treat  me  with 
much  respect.  After  a  time, 
we  being  at  a  game  of  hide  and 
seek,  I  caught  my  deare  tippet 
on  a  rose-bush,  and  was  like 
to  teare  it ;  but  he  came  to 
my  rescue  and  got  it  off  safe. 
Then,  seeing  the  teares  on  my 
cheeke,  for  indeed  I  was  in  sore 
trouble  about  tearing  my  new 
tippet,  he  sayd  in  his  pretty 
French  way  how  sweet  he  did 
think  it,  to  see  a  rose  with  a 
diamond  in  its  heart,  and  then, 
forthwith,  did  kiss  me  on  each 
cheeke,  the  children  not  being 
by.  Yet  he  did  it  so  delicately, 
and  with  such  a  gay,  timid 
boldness,  that  I  could  not  be 
angry,  but  only  laughed  and 
bid  him  begone. 

Very  busy  at  home  till  late, 
my  lord  having  almost  at  the 
last  minute,  bidden  my  hus- 
band to  his  grand  dinner.  I 
have  given  him  my  best  lace 
that  I  was  married  in,  which, 
without  cutting,  has  made  him 
a  grand  ruffle,  as  fine,  I  think, 
as  any  that  will  be  seen  there. 
He,  being  in  high  good-humour, 
did  devise  a  plan  whereby,  if 
any  should  be  left  over  of  the 
cygnets  from  my  lord's  table, 
Mrs  Sarah  might  perchance  be 
induced  to  save  it  for  Pegg  and 
me.  She  likes  him  well,  he 
being  sweet-mannered  to  all 
women,  and  good  to  look  on. 

My  husband  back  early  from 
my  lord's  dinner,  saying  it  was 
very  fine,  and  all  went  well, 
but  some  what  too  solemn  for 
his  taste.  I  am  to  bid  Pegg 
and  her  husband  for  supper 


1921.] 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


95 


to-morrow,  but  he  would  tell 
me  no  more,  only  that  Mrs 
Sarah  would  be  pleased  if  I 
should  find  it  convenient  to  be 
there  to-morrow  morning. 

Truly  Mr  S.  is  much  in  my 
thoughts.  I  do  see  him  most 
days  and  'tis  plain,  he  admires 
me  not  a  little.  This  day  my 
lady  and  all  her  company  were 
for  teasing  me  about  him,  say- 
ing I  had  caught  their  naughty 
court  manners ;  and  in  my 
heart  I  was  pleased  to  think 
I  had  become  so  grand.  For 
which,  God  forgive  me,  for 
indeed  it  is  an  ill  thing  to  be 
glad  for.  Yet,  'tis  a  joy  to 
fling  care  to  the  winds,  and  be 
gay  and  foolish  for  the  sheer 
mischief  of  it,  knowing  well 
that  I  can  keepe  myself  from 
coming  to  hurt. 

Went  to  the  Wardrobe  House 
and  stayed  all  morning,  help- 
ing Mrs  Sarah  to  count  and 
put  by  all  the  fine  things  used 
for  the  dinner  yesterday.  Then 
she  did  give  me  a  greate  basket, 
bidding  me  not  open  it  till  I 
should  be  at  home.  The  which 
I  did,  and  therein  was  two 
cygnets  complete,  with  much 
other  meat  of  the  best :  also 
3  chickens  made  of  marchpane, 
with  2  cloves  stuck  in  for  the 
eyes  and  their  beaks  of  burnt 
almonds,  standing  on  naturall 
fowles  feet,  most  neat  and 
pleasing,  with  many  other  hand- 
some fragments,  sufficient  for  a 
greate  meal ;  and  also  two 
pastry  boats,  with  little  men 
in  them,  that  came  off  the  great 
ship  that  was  the  centre-piece, 
in  honour  of  the  Navy.  Which, 


when  we  had  set  all  out,  with 
all  our  best  silver ;  the  which 
it  is  not  our  use  to  do  when 
we  invite  the  Woffats  and 
other  like  friends,  not  wishing 
to  flaunt  our  wealth  :  yet  on 
this  occasion  it  did  seem  fitting 
so  to  do  :  then  my  husband 
did  pull  from  his  pocket  two 
bottles  of  the  finest  sweet  wine 
that  is  in  fashion,  the  name 
of  which  I  have  forgot.  So 
when  Pegg  and  her  husband 
did  come,  they  was  quite  struck 
dumb,  to  see  such  a  fine  royall 
feast,  my  deare  Pegg  turning 
as  red  as  the  rising  sun,  as 
my  husband  did  say  most  gal- 
lantly, kissing  her  on  both 
cheekes.  So  then  we  4  sat 
down,  and  much  gayer  I  thinke 
we  were  than  all  those  great 
lords  and  their  followers,  all 
jalousing  one  another  for  place 
and  favour  at  the  grand  dinner. 
We  did  all  eat  till  we  could  eat 
no  more,  and  did  eache  take 
away  a  little  sailor-man  from 
the  boats,  to  keepe  in  honour 
of  the  Navy,  and  in  remem- 
brance of  that  greate  Feaste. 
Then  played  cards  till  bed- 
time. 

This  day  I  at  the  Wardrobe 
in  the  Garden  Mr  Somersett 
did  shew  me  a  fine  sonnet  he 
has  made  about  me,  and  my 
new  tippet  that  was  caught 
on  the  rose-bushe,  and  the 
teare  on  my  cheek  like  a  dew- 
drop  in  a  rose :  which,  so  hee 
did  say  in  the  sonnet,  but  it 
was  not  true,  he  dared  not 
kiss  away,  though  he  longed 
to  do  it,  fearing  to  be  scorched 
by  the  flame  of  my  pure  virtue  : 


96 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


[July 


which  I  did  think  a  very  pretty 
conceit.  I  am  called  Chloe,  as 
is  the  fashion.  But  when  I 
did  tell  it  to  Pegg,  as  I  am  wont 
to  carry  to  her  all  my  glories 
and  pleasures,  she  did  on  a 
sudden  fall  to  wringing  of  her 
hands  and  crying : — O,  my 
Sweete  Puss,  I  do  fear  that 
Vanity  hath  you  in  leash,  and 
will  lead  you  straight  to  Perdi- 
tion. Whereat  I  did  laugh, 
and  so  left  her. 

Much  illness  in  the  towne, 
and  a  bad  unhealthy  season. 
My  husband  and  I  be  now 
learning  dancing,  with  Mr  Pen- 
dleton,  who  is  a  past  master 
of  the  art,  and  a  most  polished 
man.  My  husband  do  hold  it 
a  most  useful  thing  for  us. 

This  day  come  my  lady 
Batten  in  a  great  fright,  saying, 
she  hath  sure  word  that  the 
Plague  is  come  to  Amsterdam  ; 
having  come  by  a  ship  from 
Algiers,  and  is  spread  from 
there  to  Hamburgh,  and  will 
doubtless  shortly  be  here,  and 
that  the  King  has  thoughts  of 
forbidding  all  ships  from  there 
to  come  here,  which,  he  being 
so  careless,  'tis  like  he  will  not 
do  it  till  too  late :  and  that 
surely  we  shall  be  among  the 
first  to  catch  it,  being  so  mixed 
up  with  the  Navy,  and  the 
ships,  and  did  also  tell  me  many 
full  and  dreadful  particulars 
about  that  malady.  But,  I 
having  told  it  all  to  my  hus- 
band, he  did  comfort  me,  saying 
that  he  had  also  heard  that 
talk,  but  saw  no  room  for 
foolish  fears,  the  Plague  being 
always  about  in  one  place  or 


another  but  never  coming  now 
to  these  shores.  And  so  to 
bed,  troubling  myself  no  more. 

This  day  my  husband  and  I, 
walking  in  the  privy  garden  at 
Whitehall,  did  espy  a  lady's 
wash  a  hanging  out  to  dry,  the 
finest  smocks  and  linnen  petti- 
coats, laced  with  rich  lace  at 
the  bottom,  that  ever  we  did 
see.  My  husband  sayd,  it  did 
him  good  to  look  at  it,  but  for 
me,  it  filled  me  so  full  of  envy 
and  discontent,  I  did  draw  him 
away. 

I  did  ought  to  make  myself 
some  new  smocks,  but  I  am 
loth  to  sit  at  home  and  get 
them  done.  An  I  will  have 
them  I  must,  alas,  turn  from 
all  my  plesures  that  I  do  love 
and  get  good  old  Pegg  to  come 
sit  with  me  all  day  on  our 
leads  and  work.  Yet  I  need 
them  sore,  and  have  done  this 
long  time. 

This  day  my  husband  did 
give  me  money  to  get  linnen 
for  my  new  smocks,  saying,  I 
must  be  careful  not  to  get  it 
too  fine,  nor  seek  to  ape  the 
lady  of  Whitehall ;  of  which, 
as  I  did  tell  him,  there  is  no 
fear,  such  wondrous  fine  linnen 
not  being  to  be  found  in  this 
country.  However,  by  good 
luck,  I  did  get  a  cutt  left  over, 
much  finer  than  I  should  other- 
wise have  had  for  the  money  ; 
and,  I  being  some-what  small, 
and  not  caring  if  they  be  a 
trifle  shorter  than  is  the  latest 
fashion,  I  think  to  get  my  12 
smocks  well  out  of  the  piece. 
So  next  week,  to  work  every 


1921.] 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


97 


day  with  my  maid,  and  a  hired 
woman,  and,  as  I  do  hope, 
Pegg  Woffat  and  her  maid,  so 
we  may  get  them  done  quick. 

My  twelve  smocks  being  al- 
most done,  Pegg  and  I  sitting 
on  the  leads  a  making  of  the 
button-holes,  and  being  as  it 
chanced  alone  together,  she  did 
suddenly  turn  upon  me,  to 
question  me  about  Mr  Somer- 
sett,  of  whom,  so  she  sayd, 
there  is  much  talk.  I  did  put 
her  off  a  great  while  ;  but,  she 
growing  more  and  more  sus- 
picious, and  I  not  knowing  how 
much  she  knew,  did,  at  last, 
tell  her  all ;  which  was  indeed 
not  much,  being  but  harmless 
fun  and  frolic.  But  she  did, 
as  I  think,  take  it  too  much 
to  heart,  saying  planely  that 
all  evil-livers  doe  begin  in  that 
manner,  with  much  more  such 
puritanicall  stuff  as  we  have 
all  done  with,  and  put  away, 
this  long  time.  Where-at  I  did 
roundly  accuse  her  of  finding 
mortall  sin  in  all  harmless 
plesures,  she  never  dancing, 
nor  going  to  plays,  nor  using 
of  half  the  plesaunt  things  of 
mans'  mind  and  fancy ;  the 
which,  if  God  have  not  given 
them  for  us  to  enjoy,  where- 
fore hath  He  given  them  at 
all  ?  To  which  she,  answering 
nothing  to  the  purpose,  did 
begin  then  to  weep ;  saying, 
that  my  face  is  changed,  and 
my  mouth  hath  a  look  on  it 
that  she  likes  not ;  and  that 
though  she  have  no  wits  to 
argue,  yet  her  great  love  for 
me  do  make  it  plane  to  her 
that  I  doe  goe  on  a  dangerous 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXIX. 


road.  To  which  I  made  an- 
swer, as  befits  my  position,  that 
my  husband  and  I  have  no 
mind  to  change  our  road,  nor 
to  return  to  the  old  courses 
above  which  we  are  so  happily 
arisen.  And  so  parted  in 
great  anger ;  she  saying,  which 
is  not  true,  that  this  long 
time  I  had  been  growing  too 
proud  for  her,  and  misliking 
to  have  her  for  my  friend.  I 
am  troubled  to  break  with  her, 
for  she  is  indeed  a  true-hearted 
friend,  and  loves  me  never  for 
what  she  can  have  of  me,  but 
only  for  pure  love. 

This  day  I  was  at  the  Ward- 
robe, in  the  Garden,  a  gathering 
of  red  rose  leaves  to  make  the 
conserve,  when  up  comes  my 
lord,  who  is  never  wont  to  be 
in  the  garden  at  that  hour. 
He  did  speak  to  me  with  much 
respect,  saying  what  love  and 
kindness  he  do  bear  for  my 
husband,  and  how  he  do  think 
to  bring  him  forward  to  very 
high  place,  on  account  of  his 
great  ability,  and  readiness  in 
need.  Then,  I  no  doubt  blush- 
ing for  the  plesure  I  felt,  he 
did  pinch  my  cheek,  calling  me 
his  sweet  little  coz.  And  did 
then  say  in  a  graver  voice, 
that  there  be  many  gay  gallants 
not  fit  to  buckle  the  shoes  of  his 
excellent  Sam  who,  being  a  gay 
dog,  and  here  he  did  look  me 
in  the  eye,  doth  yet  keepe  him- 
self in  hand.  Then  he  did 
mutter  somewhat,  that  hee 
would  have  no  roses  smirched 
in  his  garden,  and  so  away  ; 
leaving  me  somewhat  troubled 
to  knowe  what  he  did  meane. 


98 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


[July 


I  did  hear  afterwards  that  Mr 
Somersett  is  returning  now  to 
France,  and  I  do  wonder  if  my 
lord  had  aught  to  do  in  that 
matter. 

Well,  I  had  as  lief  be  out  of 
the  coil.  There  be  other  gay 
gentlemen,  and  'tis  better  to 
flutter  than  to  burn.  Here  is 
now  neare  a  month  that  I  have 
seen  nothing  of  my  Pegg.  She 
did  send  me  her  large  fish- 
kettle  last  Friday,  being  a  fast- 
day  ;  but  I  did  send  it  back 
with  a  cold  word.  Yet  I  do 
miss  her. 

We  be  all  mad  upon  the 
dancing.  Mr  Pendleton  do  find 
that  I  have  a  great  disposition 
there-to,  but  it  needs  much 
practice.  'Tis  not  so  much 
the  steps  that  be  difficult,  but 
to  carry  ones-self  therein  with 
grace  and  dignity.  This  day 
my  husband  fell  to  praising 
Pegg  Woffat,  saying,  that  she 
hath  a  fine  steadfast  character, 
a  great  stand-by  in  these  lewd 
treacherous  days.  Which  did 
please  me,  that  he  should  see 
her  worth.  Yet  I  know  that 
this  craze  of  ours  for  the  danc- 
ing will  never  be  to  her  taste. 
Yet  will  I  dance,  and  dance 
all  day  if  need  be,  till  I  am 
become  a  proficient  in  that  art. 

My  husband  also  is  gone 
clean  mad  on  the  theatre,  and 
do  pass  all  his  spare  time  going 
to  plays,  or  else  consorting 
with  the  players.  He  do  say 
that  in  their  company  we  may 
best  learn  what  manners  and 
what  jests  be^most  fitting  for 
this  Court. 

It  is  now  a  yeare  since  my 


lady  Batten  did  come  to  me 
in  such  a  terror  about  the 
Plague,  and  no  need  have  we 
had  to  be  troubled.  But  she 
is  in  all  things  a  silly  woman. 

This  day,  my  husband  mean- 
ing to  start  early,  with  sir  Wm. 
Penn,  to  go  see  the  Duke  of 
York  himself  on  business  for 
my  lord  Sandwich,  did  not  our 
lazy  boy  fail  to  call  him  in 
time ;  and  I  am  truly  vext 
at  it,  yet  am  I  glad  my  husband 
should  at  last  see  what  a  bad 
boy  he  is  become.  So  then, 
when  my  husband  came  back 
from  Whitehall,  he,  having 
resolved  to  give  the  boy  a 
serious  correction,  did  send 
Will  Hewer  to  get  him  a  rod, 
and  they  two  called  the  boy 
up  into  one  of  the  upper  rooms 
of  the  Comptroller's  House, 
looking  towards  the  garden, 
and  there  did  whip  him  soundly, 
though  so  far  as  I  can  judge, 
he  is  none  the  worse  for  it. 
I,  seeing  our  girl  Nell  in  the 
garden,  went  to  her  to  know 
what  she  did  there,  to  which 
she  did  innocently  make  an- 
swer that  she  was  listening  to 
hear  Wayneman  screech,  which 
he  presently  did.  She  said,  she 
judged  he  had  brought  it  upon 
himself  :  that  men  must  learn 
while  they  be  young  to  restrain 
themselves,  so  as  never  to 
offend  those  who  may  beat 
them  if  they  will.  I  marvelled 
to  hear  such  wisdom  from  one 
so  young  and  unlearned,  for 
my  husband  doth  continually 
preach  to  me  that  very  thing, 
not  to  give  offence  in  quarters 
where  we  may  be  punisht  for 


1921.] 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


99 


it.  Maybe  if  my  mother  had 
beat  me  more  when  I  was 
young,  I  should  now  be  finding 
the  lesson  less  hard. 

Very  bitter  cold  and  hard 
frosts  all  this  winter.  My  hus- 
band tells  me  how  an  old 
woman  in  Fenchurch  street  did 
leave  her  husband  and  go  to 
live  with  her  daughter-in-law, 
because,  she  said,  her  husband 
did,  out  of  spite,  take  all  their 
six  cats  to  sleep  on  his  side  of 
the  bed  when  as  they  should 
all  have  slept  in  the  middle, 
that  the  heat  of  their  bodies 
might  be  shared  equally  be- 
tween the  two  of  them.  And 
that  she  did  take  4  of  the  catts 
away  with  her,  saying  they 
was  hers.  And  the  husband's 
answer  was  that  the  cats  had 
willed  it  so,  his  wife  being  such 
a  kick-about  in  bed  ;  and  the 
proof  of  it,  that  her  four  cats 
did  all  come  back  to  him,  each 
one  of  its  own  will  by  itself, 
which  there  is  no  gain-saying, 
she  not  denying  it. 

I  do  find  that  though  Pegg 
and  I  have  now  in  some  sort 
made  up  our  quarrel,  yet  that 
a  chill  lies  between  us  when  it 
comes  to  the  closer  things  of 
my  heart.  When  we  are  alone 
together  we  have  little  to  say 
to  each  other  and  do  soon  part ; 
where  as  in  times  past  my  words 
and  thoughts  did  all  come 
tumbling  out  without  check  or 
hindrance,  save  what  check 
there  was  when  hers  come 
tumbling  forth  at  the  same 
time.  Doubtless  the  growing 
difference  in  our  ways  of  life 


do  somewhat  account  for  it, 
the  which  I  cannot  change, 
nor  would  not  if  I  could.  Yet 
it  troubles  me. 

Much  talk  now  the  summer 
cometh  on,  of  the  Plague  being 
come,  and  growing  upon  us 
daily.  The  weather  very  strange 
and  unhealthy,  the  air  being 
so  hot  and  heavy  and  full  of 
stinks  and  stenches.  I  have 
no  wish  to  go  abroad,  but  do 
take  the  air  on  our  leads,  where 
my  husband  and  his  friends  do 
sit  to  a  late  hour  practicing 
their  music  and  discoursing  of 
this  anxious  time  and  the 
Dutch  war.  My  heart  is  heavy 
for  my  coldness  with  Pegg,  for 
I  do  think  it  is  my  fault.  She 
was  a  sweet  friend,  though 
somewhat  vexatious  at  times, 
yet  never  changeable  nor  fran- 
tic, and  I  miss  her. 

Almost  everybody  be  going 
out  of  town  on  account  of  the 
Plague  spreading  so.  The  roads 
are  choaked  with  coaches  and 
waggons.  The  King  and  Court 
is  gone.  It  is  said  that  they 
go  to  escape  the  heat  of  the 
town,  men  fearing  to  speak  of 
the  Plague  because  the  infec- 
tion spreads  it  is  said,  chiefly 
through  fear.  Men  do  say  it 
is  the  evil-living  of  the  King 
and  Court  that  hath  brought 
this  judgment  upon  us,  but, 
to  my  thinking,  they  are  no 
worse  than  others.  'Tis  a  wave 
of  loose  living  and  pleasure- 
seeking  that  hath  passed  over 
all  this  country  since  the  people 
have  turned  from  their  con- 
trary excesses  of  puritanicall 


100 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


[July 


ways.  Some  there  be  who  have 
stood  to  the  old  good  rules  of 
life ;  but  the  many  do  let 
themselves  go.  Each  one,  what- 
ever his  class  or  condition, 
takes  his  pleasure  where  he  can 
find  it,  seeking  never  to  do 
good  to  others,  and  paying  no 
heed  to  the  rightness  or  wrong- 
ness  of  what  he  doeth.  And, 
for  that  their  blood  is  foul  and 
enfeebled  through  their  too 
much  good,  and  ill,  living,  and 
they  have  no  stoutness  of  heart 
to  stand  against  craven  fears, 
they  do  the  more  easily  fall 
sick.  But  there  is  also  without 
doubt  a  sickly  infection  abroad, 
which  do  attack  the  righteous 
with  the  wicked. 

This  day  my  husband  brought 
back  a  store  of  apples  and  cloves 
for  to  make  pomanders,  saying 
that  soon  there  will  be  none  left 
in  the  towne,  all  men  buying 
of  them  to  keep  off  the  Plague. 
Of  which  my  friend  Pegg  did 
this  same  evening  send  me  half 
a  dozen,  very  well  made,  with 
a  most  sweet  note,  saying,  she 
do  pray  night  and  day  that 
we  and  all  our  family  may  be 
preserved.  So  then  I  did  go 
to  see  her,  in  spite  of  my 
husband  having  forbade  me  to 
goe  abroad,  but  yet  I  did  go, 
and  glad  I  am  that  I  am  once 
more  at  one  with  my  friend. 
And  I  do  think  that  the  newly- 
made  pomander  held  close  to 
my  nose  all  through  the  streets 
did  make  all  safe.  We  had 
much  comfortable  talk  and 
were  very  loth  to  part.  It  is 
said  that  over  six  thousand 
people  be  dead  of  the  Plague 


in  the  city  this  last  week ; 
and  that  the  truth  be  more  like 
10,000,  so  many  not  being 
made  known.  My  husband 
hath  forbid  me  to  speak  of  the 
Plague,  saying,  what  must  be, 
will  be,  and  he  do  hear  enough 
nonsense  spoke  about  it  when 
he  goes  abroad,  by  which  I 
judge  that  it  is  indeed  a  grave 
matter. 

My  husband  much  taken  up 
these  days  with  the  marriage 
a  preparing  between  our  young 
lady  Jemimah  and  Mr  Carteret. 
It  seems  he  is  but  a  backward 
lover,  so  as  my  husband  knows 
not  what  to  think.  But  I  re- 
member how  sweet  little  Jem 
did  confide  to  me,  she  being 
yet  a  child,  that  so  long  as 
she  hath]  a  good  steady  man 
that  will  hold  her  in  respect 
and  honour,  and  take  good 
heed  to  his  ways  in  these 
troublous  and  uncertain  times, 
she  hath  no  care  for  fine 
speeches  ;  and,  for  tenderness, 
she  will  seek  it  from  her  chil- 
dren, if  she  have  any.  For, 
says  she,  I  think  the  tender- 
ness of  a  husband,  chose  at 
hap-hazard,  is  but  a  fluffy  glory 
like  the  head  of  a  dandelion 
clock,  which  bloweth  away 
leaving  but  a  bare  stem.  The 
which  may  be  true,  or  may  not, 
according  to  the  nature  of  the 
man,  as  I  did  tell  her.  My 
husband  judges  young  Carteret 
to  have  a  true  heart,  if  he  be 
somewhat  loutish ;  which  I  am 
glad  of.  He  is  young  yet,  and 
may  mend  his  manners. 

My  husband  is  sending  me 
from  him  into  lodgings  at  Wool- 


1921.] 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


101 


wich    to    be    away    from    the 
Plague. 

Very  busy  all  day  arranging 
all  things  in  the  house  for  my 
going  away  to  Woolwich.  Dur- 
ing the  last  hard  winter  our 
cat  and  rabbit  and  the  little 
black  dog  did  take  the  habit 
of  sleeping  all  together  in  an 
heap,  which  habit  they  have 
kept ;  so  I  packed  them  all 
together  so  in  a  small  basket 
for  to  come  to  Woolwich  with 
me,  whence  they  all  came  out, 
safe  and  satisfied  at  their  jour- 
ney's end.  My  husband  much 
troubled  about  the  news  of  the 
Dutch  war,  and  the  estate  of 
our  ships,  and  troubles  in  the 
Navy  Office,  and  the  ill-con- 
dition of  the  whole  state  and 
the  management  of  it :  and 
the  Plague  much  on  the  in- 
crease :  so  that  I  am  sick  at 
heart  to  leave  him  so  downcast. 

It  is  now  two  months  since 
I  came  to  Woolwich,  and  the 
Plague  greatly  encreased.  I 
do  fear  for  my  husband.  All 
day  I  sit  by  the  window,  watch- 
ing the  road  down  which  the 
bearer  of  ill  news  would  come, 
and  my  heart  will  scarce  bear 
it.  I  would  not  have  him 
leave  his  post,  though  many 
who  should  have  the  public 
good  at  heart  have  done  so 
this  long  time.  But  he  has 
so  much  of  a  boy's  curiousness 
I  do  think  he  is  not  to  be 
trusted  there  alone,  being  like 
to  go  in  any  risk  of  infection 
for  to  see  and  know  the  cause 
of  any  strange  thing  ;  or,  be- 
like, to  rescue  a  mewing  cat 


or  some  such  folly.  But  I 
must  hope  that  he  is  in  more 
dread  of  the  Plague  than  he 
would  have  me  know. 

I  would  I  were  like  those  old 
saints  that  went  out  into  the 
dwellings  of  the  poor  and  the 
sick,  cheering  them  and  doing 
them  good  :  then  would  I  have 
no  leisure  to  be  afraid.  But 
now  I  do  fear  all  day  long  for 
those  I  love.  I  do  admire 
my  husband,  the  way  he  sticks 
to  his  post,  and  is  resolute  to 
fix  his  thoughts  on  all  his  usual 
cares. 

I  do  hear  that  the  City  is 
full  of  violence  and  horror, 
with  all  sorts  of  riotous  living 
and  lawlessness  :  men  saying 
that  death  is  so  close  they  will 
have  all,  recklessly,  while  they 
may :  and  do  go  about  the 
streets  robbing,  and  brawling 
even  to  murder,  no  man  check- 
ing them,  and  going  into  empty 
houses  where  all  are  dead  of 
the  plague  and  bringing  forth 
what  they  will,  and  anon  one 
and  another  falling  down 
stricken  to  death,  or  running 
raving  about  the  streets,  his 
comrades  fleeing  from  him.  At 
night  the  dead  carts  do  go 
from  house  to  house.  God 
knows  what  is  then  done,  all 
those  who  go  about  that  busi- 
ness taking  care  to  make  them- 
selves drunk  for  that  drunkards 
it  is  said  take  the  infection  less 
easily.  There  be  an  old  clergy- 
man in  the  parish  next  ours, 
who  did  toll  the  bell  three  times 
a  day  that  who  would  might 
come  and  pray  with  him,  and 
this  he  did  faithfully,  and  if 


102 


As  Befits  my  Position. — II. 


[July 


any,  being  there,  were  stricken 
he  cared  for  them  all  he  could. 
But  now  there  be  so  many 
sick  there  under  his  protection 
in  the  church  that  no  man 
dare  go  in  for  to  pray,  so  he 
do  hold  his  services  alone  with 
only  the  sick.  My  husband  is 
ordered  to  move  his  office  to 
Greenwich  for  which  God  be 
thanked. 

This  day  my  husband  coming 
to  me  with  a  very  sad  face 
did  tell  me  my  dear  friend  Pegg 
Woffat  is  dead  of  the  Plague, 
and  her  husband  with  her. 
And  when  I  did  press  him  with 
many  questions,  did  at  last 
confess  to  me  that  knowing 
them  to  be  alone,  he  did  him- 
self goe,  and  finding  the  house 
shut  up  and  no  man  caring, 
did  himself  cause  a  great  coffin 
to  be  made,  and  then  went, 
night  being  fallen,  with  four 
men,  to  whom  he  promised 
each  a  gold  piece,  and,  having 
all  five  drunk  each  a  glass  of 
strong  waters,  did  himself  with 
them  put  the  two  poor  bodies 
into  their  coffin,  and  so  to  the 
Churchyard  where,  by  favour, 
some  be  still  buried,  and  a 
clergyman  there  did  bury  them 
as  was  fitting.  The  which 
when  I  heard  I  was  all  of  a 
tremble,  and  am  still,  to  think 


of  it,  lest  he  too  should  have 
caught  the  plague.  Yet  he 
did  assure  me  that  to  his  cer- 
tain knowledge  men  of  good 
heart  do  the  like  every  day, 
and  no  harm  come  to  them,  if 
they  take  proper  care,  and  be 
not  over-weary  at  the  time. 
And  so,  may  the  good  God 
preserve  him.  And  it  do  warm 
my  heart  in  my  sorrow  to  think 
of  his  deare  kindness  in  doing 
that  service  for  my  sake  for 
my  deare  friend.  For  indeed 
I  did  love  her  and  am  troubled 
that  we  fell  out  so  grievously, 
all  for  naught  but  that  silly 
matter  of  the  jackanapes  Som- 
ersett.  But  soe  are  we  all,  for 
each  one  goes  his  own  way  and 
followeth  after  his  own  thoughts, 
and  if  any  do  hinder  we  shove 
them  aside,  not  heeding,  nor 
not  caring,  though  we  hurt 
them  sore.  And  then  Death 
lets  down  his  curtain,  and  what- 
ever new  scene  and  new  actors 
may  come,  the  last  is  gone. 

How  sad  a  thing  is  life ! 
And  yet,  how  we  do  love  it, 
and  cling  to  all  our  gawds. 
My  husband  hath  even  now 
shown  me  a  finely  wrought 
paire  of  snuffers  in  a  most 
graceful  dishe,  which  he  did 
buy  cheap.  I  doubt  it  was 
stolen,  but  'tis  a  sweet  thing, 
and  useful  for  us  to  have. 


1921.] 


103 


VENGEANCE   OF  BLOOD. 


BY   ALAN   BOTT. 

"The  vengeance  of  blood  practised  in  the  days  of  heathendom  is  forbidden 
henceforward,  and  every  feud  of  blood  abolished,  beginning  with  the  murder  of 
my  cousin  Rabia,  son  of  Harith,  son  of  Abdul  Mutallib." — MUHAMAD  THE 
PROPHET. 


THE  Gulf  of  Akabah,  its 
turquoise  tones  gold-tinted  by 
the  sunrise,  was  unusually  calm. 
A  large  dhow,  squat-sailed  and 
narrow  -  flanked,  hugged  the 
shore  as  it  slowly  glided  north- 
eastward towards  the  gulf's 
apex.  An  Arab  sailor,  watching 
by  the  tiller,  chanted  in  mono- 
tonous cadence.  Overhead,  the 
sea-birds  screamed. 

Like  the  first  warm  breath 
of  dawn,  a  puff  of  wind  from 
the  land  flapped  against  an 
awning,  beneath  which  were 
seated  two  passengers,  the  one 
youthful,  the  other  elderly 
and  extravagantly  fat.  The 
younger  inhaled  the  breeze  in 
long  luxuriant  gulps,  while 
gazing  at  the  fronded  palms 
on  the  coast-line. 

"  Therefore,  O  my  uncle," 
he  continued,  "  my  mission  in 
Cairo  being  fulfilled,  did  I 
choose  to  journey  home  by 
way  of  Akabah  and  the  Wadi 
Arabah.  I  would  learn  the 
condition  of  their  peoples  since 
the  forces  of  the  Emir  with- 
drew. So  shall  I  be  better 
fitted  to  deal  with  the  matter 
nearest  my  heart.  That  fate 
caused  me  to  encounter  thee 
by  the  way,  whereby  I  receive 


thy  gifts  of  ^companionship  and 
wise  counsel,  is  a  propitious 
omen  of  success." 

The  fat  man  considered  his 
companion  with  perplexed  in- 
terest. 

"  Thy  purpose  is  excellent," 
he  said,  "  but  its  attainment 
not  easy.  When,  attendant 
upon  the  Emir,  thou  wast  in 
the  West  for  the  great  Council 
of  Peace,  thou  didst  swallow 
whole  the  high-sounding  words 
mouthed  by  Frankish  vision- 
aries— justice  and  security  for 
the  strong  and  weak  alike,  the 
lion  lying  down  with  the 
lamb.  Nevertheless,  a  lion 
would  find  small  comfort  in 
pasture  land,  and  a  lamb  would 
be  ill  at  ease  in  the  forest.  Thy 
kindred,  and  their  fathers  be- 
fore them,  have  lived  as  lions, 
taking  what  they  needed  from 
the  weak  and  fearful.  How, 
then,  wilt  thou  persuade  them 
to  live  as  lambs  *?  " 

"  Thou  mistakest  my  inten- 
tion. In  Pariz  and  Londra  I 
observed  how  that  the  Franks 
wedded  their  ideals  to  material 
purposes,  knowing  that  power 
must  mate  with  justice,  wealth 
with  security.  That  knowledge 
I  would  apply  to  our  own 


104 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


[July 


needs.  Because  of  lawlessness, 
our  lands  have  ceased  to  be 
the  route  for  trade  between 
Syria  and  Arabia.  But  if  we 
allied  ourselves  with  our  neigh- 
bours and  enforced  quiet 
throughout  Moab  and  Arabia, 
the  caravans,  assured  of  safety, 
would  return.  Thereby  might 
we  gain  more  than  the  plunder 
acquired  in  many  years  of 
raiding." 

"  It  may  be  so.  That  were 
well  for  a  beginning." 

"  Afterwards,  I  would  search 
for  excellent  craftsmen — car- 
pet-weavers from  Shiraz,  metal- 
workers from  Damascus  and 
Yemen — and  bribe  them  to 
teach  their  knowledge  in  the 
villages  under  our  protection. 
Thus,  by  trading  with  the 
merchants  of  Syria  and  with 
the  Franks,  our  barren  territory 
might  obtain  greater  prosperity 
than  it  has  known  for  cen- 
turies." 

"  Thou  hast  prepared  for 
thyself  a  mighty  task.  If  men 
say  of  thy  father,  '  I  have 
offended  him,'  their  friends 
reply.  'Delay  not,  brother, 
i,o  distribute  thy  possessions 
among  us.  Thou  art  dead, 
since  Al  Harith,  first  among 
warrior  -  sheikhs,  is  thine 
enemy.'  To  Al  Harith  and 
to  his  tribesmen,  that  reputa- 
tion is  as  the  breath  of  their 
nostrils.  It  were  difficult  to 
overcome  their  love  of  renown." 

"  I  will  walk  cautiously, 
and  proceed  by  patient  de- 
grees." 

"  Above  all,  to  change  the 
hearts  of  thy  kinsmen,  thou 
must  conquer  thine  own.  Thou 


and  I,  in  our  separate  ways, 
are  men  of  peace.  I  have  con- 
secrated a  lifetime  to  tranquil 
purposes — the  study  of  religion 
and  history,  the  observation  of 
mankind,  the  contemplation  of 
the  pageant  of  the  heavens  and 
of  the  round  of  day  and  night. 
Yet,  until  advancing  years 
quietened  the  material  senses, 
they  ever  drew  me  aside  from 
the  path  I  had  set  myself. 
So  will  it  be  with  thee,  O  my 
dear.  The  blood-lust  for  re- 
venge, absorbing  passion  for 
a  woman,  the  desire  for  wealth, 
the  craving  for  popularity — 
all  these  will  seek  to  tempt  thee 
from  statecraft.  Art  confident 
that  thou  canst  overcome 
them  ?  " 

"  Inshalldh,  that  can  I  do, 
O  my  uncle,  under  thy  guid- 
ance." 

Silence  settled  upon  the  pair, 
while  the  creaking  vessel  quick- 
ened before  the  breeze.  Daoud, 
son  of  Nahed-al-Harith,  the 
firebrand  sheikh  of  the  Anazat, 
was  brooding  over  the  strange 
things  he  had  seen  and  heard 
in  Europe,  and  dreaming  of  the 
means  he  might  employ  in 
welding  the  north-western  cor- 
ner of  Arabia  with  that  part 
of  Moab  outside  the  Palestine 
zone  into  a  confederation  of 
prosperous  communities. 

It  was  the  dreamer  rather 
than  the  dream  that  interested 
Abu  Tabah,  the  older  man — 
mystic,  historian,  poet,  human- 
ist— whose  nature  had  ever 
been  to  shun  the  Me  of  action. 
He  was  an  altogether  excep- 
tional Arab,  who  should  have 
been  born  a  thousand  years 


1921.] 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


105 


earlier,  in  the  glorious  era  of 
the  Abbaside  caliphs  in  Bagdad. 
Belonging  to  a  warlike  race,  his 
instincts  had  been  utterly  at 
variance  with  those  of  his  kins- 
men. As  a  youth  he  had  left 
them,  and  become  a  student  in 
Cairo's  El  Hazar. 

Since  then  he  had  studied 
his  co-religionists  in  all  the 
lands  of  Al  Islam — Arabia, 
Egypt,  Syria,  Turkey,  Persia, 
Bokhara,  Afghanistan,  and 
Northern  India.  Everywhere, 
he  discovered,  they  lived  in  the 
past,  and  were  but  diminishing 
echoes  of  greater  generations. 
Nowhere  was  there  a  sign  that 
the  racial  magnificence  which 
flared  into  brilliance  during  the 
six  centuries  after  the  Prophet's 
death  might  ever  recur.  This 
applied  specially  to  the  Arab 
world.  In  it,  he  had  found  no 
science  or  abstract  learning 
except  where  they  were  stimu- 
lated by  contact  with  Europe. 
Instead  of  statecraft,  there  was 
but  a  network  of  corruptly 
petty  politics. 

The  flickering  revival  in 
Arabia  and  Syria  during  the 
Great  War  had  interested  him 
profoundly  ;  but  this,  he  knew, 
was  created  by  the  genius  of 
an  Ingliz,  and  did  not  come 
from  within.  Afterwards,  when 
left  to  themselves,  the  Arabs 
had  reverted  to  their  blood 
feuds  and  their  inter-tribal 
jealousies.  It  seemed  that  his 
people  could  never  grow  to 
prominence  except  where  the 
barren  soil  was  fertilised  by 
Western  influence. 

Yet  here,  in  the  person  of 
his  nephew,  Abu  Tabah  had 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXIX. 


encountered  a  phenomenon  that 
impinged  on  the  reluctant  pes- 
simism of  a  lifetime.  It  was 
true  that  Daoud  had  acquired 
his  constructive  ideals  in 
Europe,  when  he  visited  Lon- 
don and  Paris  in  attendance 
upon  the  Emir  who  afterwards 
became  King  of  Damascus ; 
but  his  plan  to  apply  them  in 
his  own  land,  thereby  ending 
the  violence  amid  which  he 
had  grown  to  manhood,  was 
entirely  his  own. 

The  fat  poet  was  fond  of  his 
kindred,  and  especially  of  his 
brother — Daoud's  father,  the 
powerful  marauder-sheikh  of 
the  Anazat, — but  knowing  that 
the  habit  of  fighting  was  inbred 
in  them,  he  was  sceptical  of 
his  nephew's  success.  Still, 
Daoud  might  achieve  much  if 
he  were  steadfast  enough.  In 
any  case  Abu  Tabah,  as  hum- 
anist, promised  himself  some 
interesting  observations  in 
connection  with  this  young 
dreamer. 

The  dhow  anchored  in  the 
still,  toy-like  bay  before  Aka- 
bah.  Daoud  and  Abu  Tabah 
rowed  ashore,  and  passed 
through  the  palm  grove  front- 
ing the  stone  houses  of  the 
town.  At  sight  of  them  a 
young  man,  squatting  on  the 
ground  amid  a  group  of 
loiterers,  sprang  up  and  ad- 
vanced. 

"  Praise  be  to  Allah,"  he  said, 
"  it  is  Daoud  ibn  Nahed.  A 
thousand  welcomes,  son  of  a 
mighty  father.  I  have  come 
with  an  escort,  for  danger 
rides  across  the  desert." 

Abu    Tabah,    who    had    not 

D  2 


106 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


[July 


visited  his  tribe  for  some  years, 
he  failed  to  recognise. 

"  Greetings,  Farraj,"  Daoud 
answered.  "  But  wherefore  the 
danger  ?  " 

"  The  Anazat  and  the  Beni 
Dura  are  again  enemies.  Hus- 
sein, thy  brother,  is  dead." 

Instinctively  Daoud's  hand 
clutched  the  hilt  of  his  dagger. 

"  Three  men  he  slew,"  con- 
tinued Farraj,  "  before  a  Beni 
Dura  lance  pierced  him,  and 
he  was  taken  by  the  Destroyer 
of  delights.  With  his  last 
stroke  he  deprived  the  Beni 
Dura  of  their  sheikh.  The 
stream  of  the  blood-feud  flows 
broadly  across  Moab." 

"  And  my  father  t  " 

"  Is  a  lion  with  the  swift- 
ness of  an  eagle.  Since  Hus- 
sein's death  he  has  not  ceased 
to  pursue  the  Beni  Dura. 
There  was  an  encounter  be- 
fore Tafileh,  and  he  slew 
many." 

"  Let  us  depart  without  de- 
lay," Daoud  clamoured,  "  that 
I  may  ride  by  his  side  against 
our  enemies." 


Passionate  resentment  a- 
gainst  fate  for  the  loss  of 
his  brother  had  set  his  face 
into  stern  lines.  An  over- 
whelming urge  towards  ven- 
geance, his  legacy  from  genera- 
tions of  swift-smiting,  unfor- 
giving ancestors,  mastered  his 
earlier  hopes  of  bringing  peace 
and  prosperity  to  the  land  of  his 
birth. 

"  O  my  dear,"  said  Abu 
Tabah,  as  they  walked  to  the 
spot  where  the  escort  awaited 
them,  "  here  is  the  blood-lust 
of  vengeance,  the  first  of  the 
temptations  that  would  divert 
thee  from  the  great  under- 
taking thou  hast  prepared. 
Again  I  ask,  canst  thou  over- 
come it  ?  " 

Daoud  quivered  under  the 
reproach  of  the  reminder.  His 
hand  dropped  from  the  dagger's 
hilt. 

"  I  know  not,"  he  answered. 
"  Hussein,  my  brother,  my 
friend,  my  playmate,  was  dearer 
to  me  than  mine  own  self. 
Would  I  were  dead  in  his 
place." 


n. 


The  Anazat  notables  were 
gathered  before  Nahed  -  al  - 
Harith's  tent,  on  the  western 
fringe  of  an  encampment  in 
the  desert.  The  discussion  of 
tribal  policy  had  been  inter- 
rupted by  the  arrival  of  Daoud 
and  Abu  Tabah,  who  were  now 
seated  on  the  sheikh's  carpet, 
refreshing  themselves,  after 
their  hurried  journey,  with  an 
evening  meal. 


As  he  chewed  the  roasted 
mutton  and  rice,  scooped  from 
a  platter  of  pilaf,  Daoud 
searched  the  flame  -  red  trail 
of  the  sinking  sun  for  an  in- 
spired solution  of  the  conflict 
that  tortured  him — destructive 
instinct  against  constructive 
reason.  The  fat  poet  was 
examining  the  younger  man's 
play  of  features,  as  though  he 
sought  to  find  in  it  the  answer 


1921.] 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


107 


to  a  riddle.  Al  Harith — a  tall 
patriarch  with  hooked  nose, 
deep-set  eyes,  a  heavy  mous- 
tache, and  a  black  beard  that 
was  mottled  by  patches  of 
grey  —  also  intently  watched 
Daoud ;  but  he  read  into  his 
son's  silence  nothing  but  pain 
at  the  news  of  Hussein's  death. 

The  meal  being  ended,  the 
notables  approached  for  the 
council  of  war,  and  formed  a 
semicircle,  facing  the  sheikh. 

"  O  son  of  my  heart's  hopes," 
began  Al  Harith,  "  know  that 
thy  brother  desired  in  marriage 
Umaimah,  daughter  of  Ahmed, 
chief  among  the  Beni  Dura 
sheikhs.  There  was  a  dispute 
between  the  two  tribes,  a 
matter  of  some  flocks,  driven 
away  at  night.  Sheikh  Ahmed, 
believing  that  we  of  the  Ana- 
zat  were  to  blame,  refused  to 
hear  Hussein's  petition  until 
the  flocks  should  be  restored. 
Thy  brother  would  not  submit 
to  the  affront.  With  some  com- 
panions, he  took  the  girl  by 
force  when  she  had  come  to  the 
well  of  El  Hamran.  He  was 
caught  in  the  desert  by  Beni 
Dura  pursuers.  Ahmed  and 
two  others  fell  beneath  his 
valour  before  Hussein  was 
pierced.  Being  overwhelmed 
by  numbers,  but  one  of  his 
band  escaped  to  wring  vows  of 
vengeance  from  our  hearts." 

"Abeis,  thy  cousin,  was 
among  the  killed,  O  my 
nephew."  This  wrathfully, 
from  a  long-bearded  Arab  on 
the  extreme  right  of  the  semi- 
circle. 

"  Mashallah,"  the  sheikh 
continued,  "  we  surprised  the 


Beni  Dura  near  Taflleh,  and 
slew  forty  before  they  scattered. 
Since  then  we  have  pursued 
them  always.  To-day  we  learn 
that  their  remnants  have  re- 
tired into  the  mountains.  Now 
we  are  met  to  decide  whether 
to  follow  them." 

"  Follow  and  destroy."  The 
long-bearded  Arab  spoke  em- 
phatically. "  Full  reckoning 
must  be  paid  for  the  loss  of 
Hussein,  first  of  horsemen  and 
son  of  our  leader,  in  whom  all 
Arabia  takes  pride." 

"  Has  not  such  reckoning 
been  paid  already,  O  Mansur  f 
Does  not  the  wind  stir  the  sand 
above  the  body  of  Ahmed, 
sheikh  of  the  Beni  Dura  t  " 

Having  spoken,  Abu  Tabah 
peered  at  Daoud,  to  see  whether 
he  would  follow  the  lead  thus 
offered  him  ;  but  his  face  re- 
mained enigmatic  and  troubled. 

Mansur  persisted :  "  And  the 
reckoning  for  Abeis  and  for 
the  thirty  others  slain  by  our 
enemies  ?  " 

"  May  Abeis,  thy  son,  find 
Paradise,  and  the  thirty  others 
with  him.  May  their  souls 
remain  untroubled  by  the  souls 
of  the  forty  enemies  whom  the 
Anazat  slew  in  revenge." 
Again  the  poet  was  addressing 
himself  more  especially  to 
Daoud. 

Nahed-al-Harith  smiled. 

"  Abu  Tabah,  preacher  of 
comfortable  peace,"  he  accused, 
"  thou  art  about  to  propose 
a  truce.  Thy  poems  and  thy 
words  are  wisdom.  Yet,  if 
we  followed  thy  advice  always, 
we  would  be  living  in  mud 
villages,  paying  tribute  and 


108 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


[July 


turning  inaction  into  corpu- 
lence like  thine.  Nevertheless, 
in  the  matter  of  the  blood 
account  between  the  Anazat 
and  the  Beni  Dura,  thou  art 
right.  The  balance  is  on  our 
side." 

"Then,"  said  Abu  Tabah, 
looking  round  the  group  of 
notables,  "  since  the  tribe 
has  more  than  avenged  its 
dead  kinsmen,  and  itself  is  in 
no  present  danger,  why,  indeed, 
should  we  not  find  means  to  a 
truce  t  You  are  witness  that 
the  sheikh  himself  has  been 
the  first  among  us  to  speak  the 
word." 

He  paused  a  moment  while 
all  present  laughed,  and  added  : 
"  By  my  eyes,  what  profit  is 
there  in  destroying  honour- 
able enemies  when  they  are 
vanquished?  " 

"  There  would  be  plunder," 
Mansur  answered  him.  "  In 
the  days  of  the  war  against 
the  Turks,  the  Beni  Dura,  like 
ourselves,  received  much  gold 
and  many  rifles  from  the 
Ingliz." 

A  ripple  of  approval  spread 
around  the  semicircle.  Ob- 
viously the  hope  of  gain 
weighed  heavier  than  the  poet's 
arguments.  However  skilfully 
he  might  manipulate  his  con- 
tentions, the  scales  of  public 
support  tipped  away  from 
him. 

Daoud  realised  that  if  his 
tribe  continued  the  conflict, 
its  motive  would  be  merely 
the  desire  for  loot.  His  doubts 
left  him,  and  he  sought  an 
opportunity  to  support  Abu 
Tabah.  This  came  a  moment 


later,  when  Al  Harith  turned  to 
him. 

"  O  brother  of  the  son  that 
is  lost  to  me,  thou  knowest 
now  the  condition  of  our  feud 
with  the  Beni  Dura.  What  is 
in  thy  mind  ?  " 

"I  hold  with  Abu  Tabah. 
Let  us  have  peace,  since 
justice  has  been  done.  Arabia 
and  the  world,  East  and  West, 
need  a  rest  from  blood- 
letting." 

There  followed  a  reflective 
silence,  during  which  Al  Harith 
stroked  his  beard  restlessly. 
On  the  fringe  of  the  camp  a 
horse  whinnied,  and  was  an- 
swered by  another. 

The  pause  was  broken  by  the 
sheikh  : 

"  Thou  hast  learned  much 
from  the  infidels  of  the  West. 
Yet  bethink  thee,  not  always  is 
Frankish  wisdom  wise  for  the 
Arabs.  A  wiseacre  is  a  credit 
to  himself,  but  a  warrior  is 
the  glory  of  his  kindred.  Take 
warning  from  Abu  Tabah.  In 
his  youth  none  was  more  eager 
in  the  fight  than  he,  until, 
driven  by  the  desire  for  know- 
ledge, he  left  us.  Since  then 
he  has  contented  himself  with 
the  making  of  poems  which 
the  Badawi  chant  across  the 
trackless  desert.  He  sings  of 
bygone  battles,  but  himself 
remains  inactive  and  counsels 
peaceful  stratagem.  The  cities 
know  him  well,  but  rarely  does 
he  visit  us,  his  Anazat  kins- 
men ;  for  the  amplitude  of  his 
mind  and  his  person  need  softer 
bedding  than  a  carpet  in  the 
desert.  See  him  now,  weighty 
with  learning  and  easy  living, 


1921.] 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


109 


loved  of  all,  but  esteemed  only 
for  his  poetry." 

"  We  know,"  argued  Man- 
sur,  "  that  for  all  their  know- 
ledge and  high-sounding  words, 
the  Frankish  nations  despoil 
one  another.  Even  when  they 
fight  not,  they  use  force  as  a 
means  of  enrichment.  Were 
the  chief  among  our  sheikhs  an 
Ingliz,  how  would  he  reflect  ? 
Would  he  not  say,  '  Yonder  are 
our  foes,  weaker  than  we. 
Let  us  plunder  them  '  f  That 
is  sense,  whether  in  Arabia  or 
Frankistan." 

Daoud  included  the  semi- 
circle in  a  comprehensive  ges- 
ture, and  addressed  it  collec- 
tively. "  Mansur  has  asked 
how  an  Ingliz  would  reflect 
were  he  chief  among  the  tribal 
sheikhs  of  the  Anazat.  Listen 
carefully,  and  I  will  tell  you. 
He  would  think  :  '  Our  enemies 
are  weakened,  and  we  can 
despoil  them.  What  would  we 
gain  thereby  f  The  worth  of  a 
few  pounds  for  each  man  among 
the  attackers.  And  afterwards? 
Though  a  beard  be  plucked 
hair  by  hair,  yet  still  the  chin 
is  left  upon  which  to  grow 
another.  The  survivors  among 
the  Beni  Dura  would  scheme 
vengeance.  Through  genera- 
tions Moab  would  run  red  with 
blood,  theirs  and  ours.'  " 

"  We  of  the  Anazat  "— Man- 
sur's  tone  was  disdainful — 
"  have  never  feared  to  shed 
blood,  our  own  or  another's." 

"  '  And  what  is  Moab  ?  '  the 
white  Sheikh  would  ask  him- 
self. '  It  is  the  open  road 
between  Arabia  and  Syria. 
From  the  days  of  Nimrod  to 


the  days  of  Sidi  Allenby  the 
Ingliz,  its  waste  lands  have 
been  cleft  by  caravans  carrying 
spices  and  coffee  from  Yemen, 
horses  and  camels  from  the 
Nejd,  dates  from  the  Hedjaz, 
much  merchandise  from  Da- 
mascus, pilgrims  from  every- 
where. But  our  lawlessness 
endures  no  restraint  and  cries 
a  warning  to  strangers.  Now, 
only  wayfarers  of  little  con- 
sequence pass  across  our  terri- 
tory, while  the  merchants  trans- 
port their  wares  by  sea.  There- 
by is  much  opportunity  for 
profit  diverted  from  us. 

'"We  and  the  Beni  Dura,' 
he  would  consider,  '  are  all- 
powerful  in  the  land.  Since 
the  Turk  departed,  none  has 
pretended  to  be  our  overlord. 
Together  we  could  suppress 
violence  throughout  Moab,  so 
that  a  virgin  decked  with  pearls 
and  gold  might  walk  unmolested 
from  Kerak  to  Jericho.  The 
caravans,  secure  in  our  protec- 
tion, would  return.  As  the 
price  of  safety  we  would  en- 
force a  suitable  levy  on  goods 
brought  across  our  boundaries, 
according  to  their  value.  From 
the  wealth  thus  gained,  we 
could  set  aside  a  fraction  for 
the  just  settlement  of  disputes 
between  ourselves  and  the  Beni 
Dura.  Our  share  in  the  re- 
mainder would  make  us  a 
thousandfold  richer  than  if  we 
fought  and  plundered  our 
enemies.' 

"  Thus,  O  my  kinsmen," 
Daoud  concluded,  "  would  an 
Ingliz  reason,  and  thus  he 
would  act." 

"  Thus,"  confirmed  Abu  Ta- 


110 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


[July 


bah  with  conviction,  "  would 
an  Ingliz  act,  were  he  chief 
among  us.  May  Allah  pre- 
serve the  Anazat  from  such 
contamination.  Also,  may  He 
temper  their  courage  and  their 
pride  with  wisdom." 

"  O  ancient  reprobate."  In- 
terest, amusement,  and  a  tinge 
of  annoyance  were  blended  in 
the  marauder-sheikh's  inton- 
ation. "  Almost  do  I  believe 
thou  wouldst  prefer  an  Ingliz  in 
my  place.  As  is  thy  custom, 
thou  makest  play  under  my 
beard ;  and  when  anger  seeks 
to  possess  me,  it  is  diverted 
with  cunning  raillery,  and  I 
am  intrigued  by  weighty  words. 
Thou  and  Daoud  would  have 
us  stay  our  pursuit  of  the  Beni 
Dura.  This  were  small  sacri- 
fice, if  thereby  Moab  became 
a  highroad  for  tribute-paying 
traders.  But  the  Beni  Dura 
possess  long  arms  and  longer 
memories.  The  balance  of  the 
blood-feud  is  overturned  on 
their  side  by  the  weight  of 
ten  lives.  They  would  demand 
full  adjustment,  unless  the 
cement  of  friendship  were 
stronger  than  the  hope  of 
gain." 

"  The  feud,"  said  Abu  Tabah, 
"  is  rooted  in  the  intended 
marriage  of  thy  dead  son  to 
Umaimah,  daughter  of  Sheikh 
Ahmed.  The  maiden's  beauty 
and  that  of  her  sisters  are  the 
boast  of  the  Beni  Dura.  Thou 
hast  here  another  son,  a  youth 
in  whom  our  souls  find  joy." 

"  By  my  eyes,  thou  art  as 
full  of  advice  as  is  a  wild  ass 
of  fleas." 

Al  Harith  turned  to  Daoud 


and  looked  full  into  his  eyes 
while  asking  :  "  What  sayest 
thou  to  the  design  of  Abu 
Tabah,  who  as  a  peace-offering 
would  wed  thee  to  a  maiden 
thou  hast  never  seen  $  " 

"  O  my  father,  I  would  wed 
a  toothless  grandmother,  were 
her  dower  a  lasting  peace 
throughout  Moab.  Say  the 
word,  and  I  leave  this  night 
to  confer  with  the  kindred 
of  the  daughters  of  Sheikh 
Ahmed." 

"  The  journey  is  dangerous. 
If  the  Beni  Dura  scouts  chance 
suddenly  upon  an  emissary 
from  the  Anazat,  they,  know- 
ing of  their  own  peril,  are 
more  likely  to  kill  than  to  lead 
him  before  their  chief." 

"  I  am  thy  son.  Wherefore 
should  I  shrink  from  danger  ? 
All  men  die,  O  my  father. 
If  Allah  so  wills  it,  a  bolt  from 
yonder  sky  will  take  my  life 
this  instant." 

"  Abu  Tabah  and  his  songs," 
suggested  Mansur,  rather 
maliciously,  "  are  beloved  of 
all  the  Arabs.  Him  the  Beni 
Dura  would  never  harm  know- 
ingly. If  Daoud  ibn  Nahed 
makes  the  journey,  send  the 
poet  also.  The  cloak  of  his 
reputation  is  broad  enough 
to  protect  both." 

The  Sheikh's  mirth  rose  at 
the  proposal,  and  bubbled  in- 
to laughter  as  he  noted  Abu 
Tabah 's  exaggerated  grimace. 
"  Thus  shall  it  be,"  he  agreed. 
"  It  is  our  honourable  request, 
O  man  of  girth,  that  thou 
shalt  support  thy  contentions 
by  acting  as  our  emissary. 
The  night  hours  will  provide 


1921.] 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


opportunity  to  rehearse  thy 
duties  as  peacemaker,  for  thou 
shalt  be  wakeful.  Delay  would 
allow  our  enemies  time  in  which 
to  escape  us,  did  they  refuse  our 
offer  of  alliance.  Thus  have  I 
decided.  Daoud  and  Abu  Ta- 
bah  leave  at  once,  and  travel 
through  the  night.  To-morrow 
they  enter  the  Beni  Dura 
camp.  We  follow  in  the  morn- 
ing. If,  on  the  morning  after, 
we  have  no  news  of  peace,  we 
plunder  the  enemy,  and  the 
blood-feud  continues." 

Half  an  hour  later,  Daoud 
and  Abu  Tabah  were  swinging 
across  the  desert,  in  the  re- 


Ill 

just- 


strained    radiance    of    a 
risen  moon. 

"  May  your  footsteps  be  for- 
tunate"— a  sonorous  call  from 
the  marauder  -  sheikh — floated 
from  the  fringe  of  the  camp. 
The  fat  poet  wheezed  a  liquid 
sigh,  and  shifted  his  bulk 
from  a  cleft  in  the  camel's 
back. 

"  Ease  and  discomfort,  repose 
and  weariness — all  are  illusions 
of  the  material  senses,"  he  said. 
"  Yet  would  I  were  at  rest  on 
the  couch  of  Al  Harith,  and  he 
tossing  to  the  gait  of  this  most 
hard  -  boned  among  Allah's 
creatures." 


in. 


Daoud  and  Abu  Tabah  had 
been  conducted  to  the  Beni 
Dura  tents.  They  were  blind- 
folded, for  the  encampment 
was  on  a  hidden  plateau  among 
the  hills.  From  the  broken, 
dangerous  path  leading  to  the 
wilderness  below,  none  could 
have  suspected  the  life  near  it 
— the  stealthy  arrivals  and  de- 
partures, the  kneeling  camels 
tethered  beneath  an  overhang- 
ing rock,  the  women  carrying 
pitchers  to  and  from  a  creek, 
or  milking  lean-flanked  goats. 

Diab-al-Auran,  the  successor 
of  Sheikh  Ahmed,  had  watched 
the  party's  approach. 

"  The  form  and  the  waist- 
band of  the  one  are  familiar," 
he  said.  "  Unbind  their  eyes. 
.  .  .  Abu  Tabah  the  poet,  as 
I  thought.  A  thousand  greet- 
ings. I  am  honoured  in  having 
thee  as  guest,  but  mystified 


that  thou  hast  chosen  this 
moment  for  thy  visit.  .  .  .  And 
the  other  ?  .  .  .  Daoud  ibn 
Nahed,  if  I  mistake  not  my 
memories  of  a  day  of  great 
deeds  at  Ma'an,  when  the  Arabs 
swept  over  their  Turkish  foe- 
men  like  a  whirlwind  scattering 
the  sand." 

"  Even  so,  O  sheikh." 
"  The  son  of  Al  Harith  !  A 
full-grown  cub  sired  by  the 
lion  of  the  Anazat.  Thou  hast 
inherited  thy  father's  boldness, 
else  how  couldst  thou  unflinch- 
ingly place  thyself  in  the  power 
of  his  worst  enemy  ?  " 

"  Wert  thou  another,"  Abu 
Tabah  interposed,  while  the 
surrounding  Arabs  glowered  at 
Daoud,  "  I  might  utter  the 
compelling  words,  '  DakMlak, 
brother.  We  are  at  thy  hearth 
as  thy  guests.'  But  to  remind 
thee,  with  whom  I  have  been 


112 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


[July 


linked  by  friendship  for  thirty 
years,  of  the  law  of  hospitality 
were  an  insult.  Therefore  am 
I  content  to  say,  '  O  Diab,  we 
are  here  on  a  peaceful  errand.'  ' 

"  There  shall  be  peace  be- 
tween us — until  I  and  this  off- 
spring of  Al  Harith  meet  in  the 
desert." 

He  led  them  to  his  tent. 
Only  when  they  were  seated 
comfortably  and  were  sipping 
coffee  did  he  ask  of  Abu 
Tabah— 

"  And  now,  friend  among  my 
foes,  where  is  the  peaceful 
errand  ?  " 

"  O  friend  among  my  friends, 
so  is  the  word  of  Nahed-al- 
Harith,  my  brother :  '  The 
feud  between  our  houses  is 
not  of  my  seeking.  Our  people 
have  slain  yours,  yours  have 
slain  ours.  We  have  broken 
the  Beni  Dura,  and  are  vic- 
torious. Yet  will  we  renounce 
the  pursuit  if  you  also  consent 
to  forgo  the  blood  quarrel, 
and  join  us  in  bringing  pros- 
perity to  Moab ;  and  so 
peace.' " 

Diab  -  al  -  Auran,  astonished, 
abruptly  dropped  the  string  of 
beads  with  which  his  hands 
had  been  toying. 

"  By  the  red  beard  of  Osman, 
what  new  cunning  is  this  ? 
When  has  Al  Harith  been 
known  to  halt  on  the  edge  of 
a  profitable  fight  ?  Were  his 
ambassador  any  other  than 
thou,  I  should  look  behind  the 
curtain  of  gentle  words  for 
concealed  treachery." 

"  As  a  pledge  of  our  honest 
intentions,"  said  Abu  Tabah, 
"  this  my  nephew  Daoud,  son 


of  Al  Harith,  is  come  to  ask 
in  marriage  one  of  the  three 
daughters  of  Sheikh  Ahmed, 
whom  his  brother  Hussein,  pro- 
voked by  sudden  onslaught, 
killed  before  himself  was  killed 
by  Sheikh  Ahmed's  followers." 

"Softly,  poet.  We  need 
peace,  but  not  as  the  price  of 
easy  dishonour.  Our  toll  of 
lost  lives  is  greater  than  yours. 
The  balance  must  be  righted. 
A  marriage  cannot  pay  what  is 
due  to  dead  kinsmen.  Have 
not  our  tribes  ever  followed 
the  precept,  '  an  eye  for  an 
eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth  '  ?  " 

"  Forgetting  the  law  of  the 
Prophet :  '  Henceforth  the  ven- 
geance of  blood  practised  in 
the  days  of  heathendom  is 
forbidden,  and  every  feud  of 
blood  abolished.'  Also,  al- 
though there  is  no  might  save 
in  Allah,  the  High,  the  Tre- 
mendous, it  were  well  to  re- 
member that  near  us  as  we 
talk  are  many  among  the 
Anazat  who  would  destroy  the 
Beni  Dura." 

"  That  can  never  be.  Men's 
fortunes  are  like  buckets  from 
a  well,  which  rise  with  water 
now  for  one,  and  now  for  the 
other.  To-day  Al  Harith  might 
scatter  us  across  Arabia.  Yet 
could  we  never  forget.  To- 
morrow, the  bucket  of  fate 
would  bring  us  power  and  re- 
venge. But  what,  in  the  name 
of  the  Prophet,  is  the  purpose 
of  the  firebrand  sheikh  of  the 
Anazat,  that  he  should  ask  this 
thing  ?  " 

"  An  alliance,  tempering 
friendship  with  mutual  interest. 
He  would  combine  with  thee 


1921.] 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


113 


to  enforce  quiet  throughout 
Moab,  that  the  caravans  might 
return  and  pay  the  price  of 
safe  journeying." 

Diab-al-Auran  passed  several 
minutes  in  reflection  before  he 
spoke. 

"  A  wise  thought  and  a  com- 
mendable one,  did  not  a  barrier 
of  blood  separate  us.  By  the 
honour  of  the  Arabs,  we  cannot 
be  as  tame  villagers,  and  submit 
to  loss  without  exacting  repara- 
tion. If  the  Anazat  agree  to  a 
just  price  for  the  unrequited 
deaths  among  the  Beni  Dura, 
I  will  ask  the  daughters  of 
Sheikh  Ahmed  whether  one 
among  them  will  wed  the  son 
of  Nahed,  and  so  seal  the  peace. 
Otherwise,  there  is  no  peace." 

Abu  Tabah  was  silent,  well 
knowing  that  Al  Harith  would 
never  consent  to  a  blood  sub- 
sidy for  foemen  whom  he  had 
vanquished.  He  was  fearing 
that  the  mission  had  failed, 
when  Daoud  interposed — 

"O  Sheikh,  I  will  pay  the 
blood  account  from  the  property 
left  by  Hussein,  my  brother — 
the  worth  of  five  camels  for 
each  life  not  balanced  when 
both  sides  have  counted  their 
dead." 

Diab-al-Auran  picked  up  his 
string  of  beads,  and  again 
toyed  with  it.  The  huckster 
instinct  of  his  race  was  in 
his  voice  as  he  answered 
hastily — 

"  Thou  dost  laugh  at  my 
beard.  What  are  five  camels 
against  the  value  of  a  loved 
relative  ?  The  worth  of  ten 
camels  were  not  enough." 

From   Abu   Tabah    came   a 


cavernous  sigh  of  content. 
Easefully  he  sprawled  his  great 
bulk  across  the  carpet.  Crease- 
fully  his  cheeks  relaxed  into 
a  smile.  His  purpose  was 
achieved. 

"  O  my  friend,"  he  said, 
"  a  while  ago  thy  talk  was  of 
honour.  Now  it  is  of  gam. 
Let  us  cease  to  deal  in  little- 
ness. The  worth  of  seven 
camels  shall  be  paid  for  every 
unrequited  life,  and  I  will  be 
surety  for  half  the  sum." 

"  Agreed." 

Diab-al-Auran  clapped  his 
hands.  To  the  attendant  who 
answered  the  summons  he  gave 
order — 

"Tell  Umm  Said  to  send 
without  delay  Umaimah,  the 
daughter  of  Sheik  Ahmed.  See 
that  she  and  her  sisters  are 
veiled  as  for  strangers." 

"  O  my  niece,"  said  Diab-al- 
Auran  when  a  girl  had  entered, 
"  this  is  Daoud,  the  son  of 
Nahed-al-Harith,  chief  among 
the  Anazat.  It  is  in  the  mind 
of  Sheikh  Nahed  to  wed  his 
son  to  one  of  you,  and  so  bring 
peace  to  our  tribes  and  pros- 
perity to  Moab.  What  sayest 
thou  thereto  f  " 

"  O  my  uncle,  do  it  not. 
Hussein,  the  brother  of  Daoud, 
wronged  my  tribe  in  that  he 
took  me  by  force  from  the  well 
of  El  Hamran.  The  shadow 
of  that  act  would  darken  our 
life  together." 

"  May  Allah  bless  thee,"  said 
Diab.  "  Call  to  me  Zeenab, 
thy  sister." 

"  The  son  of  Al  Harith  has 
never  seen  me,"  pleaded  the 
second  daughter  of  the  dead 


114 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


[July 


Sheikh,  "  and  I  fear  lest  he 
find  me  lacking  in  beauty.  I 
am  faulty  in  temper,  and  likely 
to  displease  him.  Some  day 
he  might  be  minded  to  set 
another  in  my  place,  and  there 
would  befall  me  therein  what 
is  wont  to  befall." 

Leilah,  the  youngest,  entered 
when  Zeenab  had  retired.  Her 
movements  indicated  slim 
grace,  although  the  definite 
outline  of  her  figure  was  ob- 
scured by  loose  robes  of  calico. 
Daoud's  face  tingled  and  red- 
dened after  Diab-al-Auran  had 
introduced  him  and  his  pur- 
pose, for  he  knew  that  behind 
her  yashmak  the  half-hidden 
eyes  were  inspecting  him,  com- 
prehensively and  in  detail.  He 
was  strangely  affected  by  her 
presence,  which  had  on  his 
senses  as  pervasive  an  effect 
as  the  odour  of  musk.  His 
pulses  quickened  under  the 
suspense  of  awaiting  her  deci- 
sion. When  she  spoke,  he  told 
himself  that  her  voice  was  har- 
monious as  distant  camel  bells. 

"  O  my  uncle,  I  am  not  more 
beautiful  than  Zeenab,  neither 
am  I  less  wayward  in  temper. 
Yet  do  I  not  shrink  from  en- 
trusting Daoud  ibn  Nahed  with 
my  future ;  for,  unlike  my 
sister,  I  have  never  looked  with 


the  eye  of  approval  on  an 
earlier  suitor.  If  it  bring  quiet 
to  our  tribes,  I  will  wed  the 
son  of  Al  Harith  ;  and  if  he 
divorce  me,  Allah  will  send  him 
no  good  thereafter." 

"If  I  harm  thee  in  any 
way,"  fervently  declaredDaoud, 
"  may  I  die  in  dishonour." 
He  had  difficulty  in  overcoming 
an  impulse  to  spring  toward 
her  and  tear  away  the  veil. 

"  Allah  and  the  excellence 
of  a  maiden,"  said  Abu  Tabah, 
"  have  given  peace  to  the  land. 
And  now,  Sheikh,  we  must  take 
leave  of  thy  hospitality.  The 
Anazat  follow  us,  and  unless 
by  morning  we  have  stayed 
the  hand  of  Al  Harith,  there 
will  be  further  bloodshed." 

Daoud,  afire  with  the  mys- 
tery and  the  presence  of  Leilah, 
halted  her  with  an  impatient 
proposal  as  she  was  about  to 
leave. 

"  Could  I  take  with  me  a 
wife  from  the  Beni  Dura,  the 
thoughts  of  my  kinsmen  would 
turn  from  violence  to  rejoicing." 

The^girl  stood  framed  in  the 
opening  of  the  tent.  Trustfully 
she  held  her  hands  toward  him. 

"  O  my  lord,  if  it  please  thee, 
and  if  such  haste  will  mend  the 
broken  friendship  of  our  tribes, 
I  will  wed  thee  to-day." 


IV. 


By  nightfall  the  party — 
Daoud  and  Leilah,  with  the 
poet,  four  emissaries  from  the 
Beni  Dura,  and  a  small  escort 
— were  at  the  oasis  of  Bl  Ham- 
ran,  a  tableland  above  the 


sand-strewn  wadi  along  which 
they  had  journeyed.  Having 
knelt  their  camels  on  the 
parched  grass,  they  dismounted. 
At  Daoud's  order,  a  goafs-hair 
tent  was  planted  near  the  well, 


1921.] 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


115 


in  a  spot  sheltered  by  date- 
palms.  The  escort  placed  bed- 
ding for  Leilah  inside  it,  and 
retired  to  the  farther  side  of 
the  well. 

Not  yet  had  Daoud  seen  the 
face  of  his  wife.  She  had  been 
veiled  during  the  marriage  cere- 
mony, and  immediately  after- 
wards they  had  left  the  Beni 
Dura  camp.  Now,  for  the 
first  time,  he  was  left  alone 
with  her. 

Enigmatic  and  motionless, 
she  stood  beneath  a  tree,  facing 
him.  Long  plaits  of  hair,  like 
intertwined  skeins  of  black  silk, 
hung  forward  over  her  shoul- 
ders, and  descended  almost  to 
the  waist.  The  soft  colours  of 
her  bridal  robe  blended  into 
one  another  like  notes  of  music. 

Daoud  advanced,  alive  with 
desire,  and,  having  embraced 
her  with  one  arm,  made  as 
if  to  lift  the  yashmak  with 
the  hand  left  free.  She  drew 
away  gently,  and  protested. 

"  O  my  husband,  hast  thou 
a  light  heart  to  rejoice  by  the 
wayside  when  thy  people  make 
ready  to  slay  mine  ?  Our 
endeavour  is  peace." 

"  To-morrow  at  dawn  we  go 
to  meet  my  father,  and  all  will 
be  well." 

"  If  we  delay  until  the  dawn, 
we  may  miss  him  on  the  way, 
and  it  can  befall  that  his  fol- 
lowers will  cross  the  path  of 
my  kinsmen  and  do  them  harm. 
It  were  better  to  continue 
through  the  night.  So  shalt 
thou  enter  the  Anazat  encamp- 
ment before  thy  people  are 
astir." 

The    repulse,    impinging    on 


his  consciousness  of  the  near- 
ness of  Leilah,  the  magic  quality 
of  her  voice,  the  warm  remem- 
brance of  her  touch,  generated 
in  the  nerve-battery  of  his  spine 
an  emotional  thrill  that  pulsed 
through  the  whole  of  his  being 
and  dominated  the  power  of 
rational  thought.  Impelled  by 
passion  and  anger,  he  started 
forward  and  snatched  at  the 
yashmak. 

"  Thou  art  my  wife,  my 
property,"  he  said  ;  "  it  is  my 
right  that  I  should  know  thy 
features." 

Again  she  eluded  his  grasp. 
When  he  advanced  a  second 
time  and  caught  her  by  the 
shoulders,  she  struck  him  in 
the  mouth. 

Daoud  released  Leilah,  and 
forbore  to  look  at  her  while 
she  spoke  in  calm  reproof. 
The  shock  of  the  blow,  having 
broken  the  current  of  nervous 
emotion,  left  him  temperate 
and  humiliated. 

"  By  this  same  well  thy 
brother  wronged  my  tribe  when 
he  carried  away  Umaimah,  my 
sister.  Now  thou  wouldst  deal 
with  me  as  with  a  slave  that 
is  hawked  about  for  sale,  or 
a  captive  woman  taken  in 
battle.  By  Allah,  that  is  not 
fitting  for  one  in  whom  I  saw 
nobility." 

"  O  my  lady,  I  ask  pardon. 
My  face  is  blackened  with 
shame  before  thee.  Thou  shalt 
not  see  me  until  I  return 
with  the  wedding  gift  of  assured 
peace." 

"  O  my  husband,  when  thou 
returnest,  thou  shalt  not  find 
me  lacking  in  graciousness." 


116 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


[July 


Daoud  skirted  the  well,  and 
was  guided  to  Abu  Tabah 's 
resting-place  by  the  sound  of 
resonant  snoring.  The  fat  poet 
rubbed  his  eyes,  and  grimaced 
dolefully  when  aroused. 

"  Haste  is  from  Shaitan," 
he  said,  "  and  two  days  have 
passed  since  I  found  repose. 
Nevertheless,  thy  wife  has 
spoken  good  words.  It  were 
well  to  avoid  mischance. 
When  we  have  met  Al  Harith, 
I  will  sleep.  Afterwards,  I  will 
return  to  my  home  in  Damas- 
cus, and  find  rest  in  the  crowded 
city.  The  quiet  of  the  desert 
is  too  full  of  strenuous  happen- 
ings for  the  comfort  of  my  old 
age." 

Six  camels  having  been  pre- 
pared, Daoud  and  Abu  Tabah, 
followed  by  the  emissaries 
from  the  Beni  Dura,  passed 
along  a  road  that  sloped  down- 
ward from  the  tableland.  The 
escort  they  left  on  the  oasis,  to 
protect  Leilah. 

A  fever  of  dissatisfaction 
possessed  Daoud.  He  had  in- 
sulted his  wife,  whom,  above 
all  others  in  the  world,  he 
wanted  to  please.  The  longing 
to  make  reparation  by  fulfilling 
her  desire  was  so  intense  as 
to  be  painful.  The  willing 
unveiling  of  her  features, 
when  he  could  honourably 
return  to  the  oasis,  had  be- 
come his  dearest  wish.  He 
urged  onward  the  beast  be- 
neath him,  and  was  irritated 
because  the  others  lagged 
behind. 

Abu  Tabah,  divining  the  un- 
rest and  its  cause,  led  his 
companion  into  quieter  mood 


by  means  of  a  cunningly-linked 
sequence  of  stray  thoughts  : — 

"  The  night  is  long,  and  the 
journey's  end  not  far.  Bethink 
thee,  we  have  a  goal,  and  a 
straight  road  to  it.  Afterwards, 
there  will  be  another  goal,  and 
many  more  anothers.  We  fol- 
low the  way  prepared  by  fate, 
and  if  we  stray  aside,  we  are 
lost  among  bypaths  of  impulse. 
Blossomless  regret  and  fruitless 
anticipation  are  alike  weeds 
that  choke  the  flowers  of 
achievement  in  the  fertile  gar- 
den of  youth. 

"  Many  years  have  I  passed 
in  the  study  of  man,  and  of 
the  influences  that  guide  him  ; 
and  the  result  I  have  made 
into  songs  that  the  Badawi 
sing  when,  riding  across  the 
sands  of  a  lifetime,  they  would 
express  their  loves  and  striv- 
ings, their  joys  and  sadnesses. 
Yet  the  sum  of  my  knowledge 
is  contained  in  two  verses  : 

"The  righteous  shall  travel  the  path 

of  the  patient, 
For  Allahward  journeyeth  all  that 

is  constant, 
And   to   Allah   we  turn,    we   too ; 

with  Him  only 
Rest  the  issues  of  things,  and  that 

which  we  gather. 

Long  has  life  been  to  me.     This  is 

its  burden — 
Lone  against  Time  abide  Wisdom 

and  Harmony, 
And  the  stars,  marching  onward  in 

serried  procession, 
Singing  all  night  till  they  merge  in 

the  dawning." 

Daoud  reacted  to  the  poet's 
musings  exactly  as  Abu  Tabah 
had  intended.  He  looked  up- 
ward at  the  stars,  and  their 
immutable  immensity  humbled 


1921.] 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


117 


him  into  patience.  He  looked 
downward  at  the  desert,  and 
found  distraction  in  the  shadow- 
silhouettes  of  the  camels,  lurch- 
ing disjointedly  across  the  blue 
moonsheen.  He  was  immense- 
ly grateful  to  the  poet  for 
the  magic  of  his  words,  which 
had  transmuted  unrest  into 
quietude. 

"  O  my  master,"  he  said, 
"  thou  hast  a  great  soul." 

Abu  Tabah  took  refuge  in 
banter. 

"  How  have  I  wronged  thee, 
that  thou  shouldst  charge  me 
with  soul-prating  ?  I  have 
seen  men  and  cities.  Much  I 
remember,  more  I  forget ;  but 
once  only  have  I  encountered 
a  great  soul. 

"  In  my  youth  I  was  a  seeker 
after  ideals,  a  pilgrim  of  Be- 
yond, an  adventurer  in  quest 
of  that  from  which  I  came. 
I  travelled  far,  treading  the 
Sufi  way  of  mystic  purpose. 
It  happened  one  night  that  I 
sat  before  the  glowing  brazier 
at  a  tavern  in  Ispahan,  the 
rose-embowered  city,  Persia's 
pride.  Sleep  was  elsewhere, 
and  when  other  wayfarers  were 
stretched  in  repose,  I  remained 
talking  to  an  earnest  youngling 
like  myself.  He  was,  he  said, 
an  Ispahani  student  of  law. 
High-minded  poverty  had  tat- 
tered his  robe,  and  shame  over- 
came me  because  of  my  new 
cloak  and  the  bulging  money- 
purse  in  its  folds. 

"  In  our  youthful  presump- 
tion, we  thought  to  probe  the 
Infinite,  not  knowing  that  our 
phrases  must  fail  to  scratch 
the  surface  of  that  which  we 


understood  not.  Our  hearts 
warmed  one  another,  for  our 
spiritual  gropings  were  the 
same,  albeit  his  outdistanced 
mine. 

"  '  O  my  brother,'  he  said, 
'  thou  and  I  are  twin  souls,  pent 
on  a  lonely  planet  that  is  im- 
prisoned by  space.  We  sit 
between  our  shadows  and  the 
dying  fire  that  casts  them  on 
the  tavern's  wall.  So  is  Man, 
in  the  caravanserai  of  the 
world.  We  mystics  would  know 
whence  the  fire  and  why  the 
shadow.  When  the  fire  is  dead 
and  the  caravanserai  crumbled, 
what  of  the  ashes  and  the  dust  f 
These  be  riddles  that  thou  and 
I,  in  separate  endeavour,  have 
not  answered.  Yet  it  may  be, 
brother,  that  together  we  can 
solve  them,  for  our  lives  are 
woven  of  one  splendid  thread. 
To-morrow  I  take  the  road 
with  thee.  Together  we  will 
follow  the  Higher  Law  along 
the  pathway  from  Everlasting 
to  Eternity.  Together  we  will 
find  a  bridge  between  the 
Phantasmal  and  the  Eeal.' 

"  Thus  we  immured  ourselves 
in  wordy  nothingness  until, 
when  silver  -  sandalled  dawn 
knocked  at  the  tavern  door,  I 
fell  asleep  near  the  wall,  with 
my  cloak  as  pillow." 

"And  did  he  take  the  road 
with  thee  ?  "  asked  Daoud. 

"  His  was  a  great  soul,  as 
I  have  said.  When  I  awoke, 
he  was  gone ;  and  gone  was 
my  new  cloak,  and  the  money- 
purse  in  the  folds  of  it.  In 
its  place,  my  pillow  was  the 
robe  tattered  by  high-minded 
poverty." 


118 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


[July 


The  night  hours  could  hold 
neither  tedium  nor  impatience 
while  the  poet  talked.  He 
charmed  his  hearers  until  sun- 
rise revealed  the  tents  of  the 
Anazat. 

"O  my  uncle,"  said  Daoud,  "I 
entreat  thee  to  deal  with  the 
comfort  of  these  our  guests,  for 
after  greeting  my  father,  I  will 
leave  thee  and  claim  my  wife." 

"  The  alliance  which  is  the 
corner-stone  of  thy  ambitions 
will  be  discussed  among  us," 
Abu  Tabah  protested.  "  Moab 
is  a  chessboard,  on  which  thy 
policies  must  be  moved  in 
ordered  intricacy.  To-day  the 
Anazat  notables  meet  the  Beni 
Dura  delegates,  and  the  game 
begins.  How,  then,  can  thou 
be  absent  ?  " 

"  My  heart  is  full  of  the 
wooing  of  Leilah,  and  holds 
room  for  naught  else  until  its 
accomplishment." 

"  Thy  wife  is  a  noble  maiden 
who  would  not  detain  thee  did 
she  know  thy  great  purpose. 
Thou  didst  conquer  the  blood- 
lust  for  vengeance.  Absorbing 
passion  for  a  woman  is  the 
second  snare  that  would  snatch 
thee  from  the  path  of  achieve- 
ment. This,  also,  wilt  thou 
subordinate  to  thy  purpose." 

"  I  go  to  the  oasis,"  persisted 
Daoud.  "  To-morrow,  I  will 
return." 

"  Light  of  mine  eyes,  I  have 


watched  thee,  and  know  the 
workings  of  thy  mind.  Thou 
wilt  return  to  us  to-day,  and 
not  to-morrow,  lest  there  be 
settlements  contrary  to  thy 
desire." 

An  interval  of  silence,  while 
they  neared  the  encampment, 
was  broken  by  Abu  Tabah. 

"  For  my  journey  to  Damas- 
cus I  need  a  desirable  camel. 
The  beast  beneath  thee  is  milk- 
white  and  silken-haired.  It  has 
long  legs,  a  waist  small  in  cir- 
cumference, and  a  soft  tread 
that  is  comfortably  suited  to 
my  bulk.  So  sure  am  I  of  thy 
return  to-day,  that  on  it  I  will 
wager  my  manuscript  of  the 
verses  of  Antar,  which  has  sur- 
vived through  the  centuries 
from  the  warrior-poet's  own 
period  —  thy  stake  to  be  the 
milk-white  camel." 

"Agreed,  O  father  of  advice." 

Nahed-al-Harith,  the  marau- 
der-sheikh, blinked  at  the  deep- 
ening light  as  he  watched  the 
party  dismount.  Daoud  em- 
braced him,  and  said  hastily — 

"  The  blood-feud  is  no  more, 
O  my  father.  These  be  emis- 
saries from  the  Beni  Dura,  our 
friends.  Abu  Tabah  will  ex- 
plain all.  Farewell,  for  I  go  to 
my  wife." 

He  climbed  upon  the  back 
of  his  camel,  grasped  the  bridle- 
cord,  and  turned  the  beast's  re- 
luctant head  toward  the  oasis. 


V. 


Unveiled  at  last,  she  stood 
before  him,  beside  the  well  of 
El  Hamran.  Her  eyes,  fathom- 


less and  long-lidded,  met  his 
own  frankly.  He  withdrew  his 
questing  gaze  from  them,  and 


1921.] 


Vengeance  of  Blood. 


119 


let  it  wander  over  the  finely- 
chiselled  nostrils,  the  arched 
bow  of  her  mouth,  the  well- 
rounded  chin,  the  rhythmic 
curves  of  her  profile,  the  smooth 
firm  skin.  She  had  untwined 
her  hair  from  the  plaits,  and  it 
now  dropped  from  the  back  of 
her  head  in  glorious  unruliness. 

"  O  my  lady,"  he  said,  "  my 
very  soul  is  a  tame  pigeon, 
sitting  on  thy  shoulders,  on 
thy  head,  on  thy  hands,  un- 
able to  find  rest  on  any  part 
for  love  of  all." 

"  O  my  husband,  thy  will  is 
my  pleasure." 

She  held  out  her  hands  in 
whole-hearted  acceptance,  and 
languorously  swayed  towards 
him. 

He  grasped  the  outstretched 
hands,  and  was  about  to  kiss 
her  expectant  upturned  lips  ; 
but  he  hesitated,  and  in  the 
end  embraced  her  on  the  fore- 
head. 

"  O  moon  amid  the  darkness 
of  an  age,"  he  pleaded,  "  deign 
now  to  make  ready  for  the 
journey  to  my  people's  tents, 
that  I  may  begin  the  work  to 
which  I  would  dedicate  our 
lives." 

Holding  his  wife  gently  in 
his  arms,  he  then  related  his 
dream  that  the  alliance  be- 
tween their  tribes  might  be  the 
means  of  changing  the  land's 


poverty  and  lawlessness  into 
prosperity  and  content ;  for 
now  that  Leilah  was  altogether 
his,  Daoud's  frantic  passion 
had  evolved  into  a  love  that 
lost  nothing  because  convic- 
tion caused  it  to  renounce 
impatient  impulses.  Even  be- 
fore he  reached  the  oasis,  he 
had  half-won  another  victory 
over  himself  by  realising  that 
nothing  should  be  allowed  to 
divert  him  from  taking  part 
in  the  peace  discussions  with 
the  Beni  Dura  delegates. 

"  I  obey  gladly,  and  pros- 
trate myself  before  Allah,  in 
gratitude  for  the  gift  of  a 
noble  husband."  Exaltation, 
joy,  abnegation,  and  contented 
compliance  were  blended  into 
the  harmony  of  Leilah's  voice. 

Half  an  hour  later,  they 
headed  the  escort  from  the 
oasis  of  El  Hamran,  where,  in 
his  earlier  ardour,  Daoud  had 
planned  to  pass  days  of  isolated 
ecstasy  with  his  bride,  forget- 
ful of  the  troubled  world  and 
its  claims.  He  smiled ;  for 
he  suddenly  remembered  the 
wager  with  Abu  Tabah,  and 
was  thinking  that  the  milk- 
white  camel,  wearily  plodding 
beneath  him  after  its  many 
hours  of  forced  treks  without 
adequate  rest,  would  be  less 
overworked  when  it  carried  the 
corpulent  poet  to  Damascus. 


120 


[July 


ON  HAZARDOUS   SERVICE. 

BY  MERVYN   LAMB. 
CHAPTER  XXVH. — THE   ATTACK   ON   THE  BRIDGE. 


ON  the  night  following  the 
denunciation  of  Adrienne  by 
the  Town  Major,  Jean  and  his 
companion  had  started  off  from 
Lille  to  carry  out  their  task 
of  blowing  up  the  railway 
bridge.  In  order  to  understand 
the  sequence  of  events,  it  is 
necessary  to  describe  in  some 
detail  the  locality  in  which  the 
latter  was  situated. 

The  country  generally  was 
dead  flat,  like  most  of  the  area 
drained  by  the  Lys,  and  the 
double  lines  of  the  permanent 
way  were  carried  above  flood- 
level  on  a  small  embankment 
rising  to  a  height  of  some 
fifteen  feet  where  it  crossed  the 
rivulet,  over  which  was  a  single- 
span  girder  bridge  about  twenty 
feet  long,  resting  on  masonry 
abutments.  At  each  of  the 
four  corners  there  was  a  low 
masonry  pillar,  but  there  was 
no  parapet,  whilst  the  bridge 
floor  was  open,  and  could  only 
be  crossed  by  stepping  on  the 
sleepers. 

It  was  not,  therefore,  in  any 
way  a  big  structure,  nor  was 
the  actual  obstacle  which  it 
spanned  a  formidable  one,  con- 
sisting as  it  did  merely  of  a 
sluggish  muddy  brook  running 
between  marshy  banks.  It 
had  been  selected,  faute  de 
mieux,  because  all  the  larger 
bridges  crossed  rivers  or  canals 


in  close  proximity  to  consider- 
able towns,  and  none  of  them 
held  out  any  hope  of  success, 
as  they  were  strongly  guarded  ; 
also  no  landing  for  an  aero- 
plane would  have  been  pos- 
sible in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
this  latter  now  formed  an 
essential  feature  of  the  scheme, 
since  our  friends  depended  on 
it  for  their  explosives.  It 
might  be  assumed  that  the 
Germans  would  have  no  diffi- 
culty hi  replacing  the  broken 
girders  at  short  notice,  since 
the  material  necessary  for  that 
purpose  formed  an  article  of 
store  in  every  army  ;  but  if  a 
train  could  be  wrecked  in  the 
gap,  the  enemy  would  probably 
have  to  make  a  diversion,  which 
would  mean  a  good  deal  of  earth 
work,  and  therefore  take  time. 
The  locality  also  was  a  fairly 
favourable  one,  for  the  only 
dwellings  near  by  were  a  few 
cottages  close  to  the  level- 
crossing,  in  which  lived  the 
N.C.O.  and  seven  or  eight 
Germans  who  provided  the 
single  sentry  for  the  bridge. 
Some  500  yards  to  the  west 
of  the  railway  ran  a  main 
road,  the  intervening  land  being 
alternate  patches  of  standing 
corn  and  lucern,  belonging  to 
a  farm  which  fronted  on  to 
the  road.  To  the  east  there 
was  standing  corn  close  up  to 


1921.] 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


121 


the  railway,  with  a  narrow 
strip  of  tangled  grass  along 
the  edges  of  the  brook.  Be- 
yond the  corn  lay  a  belt  of 
trees,  and  then  a  big  grass 
field,  which  was  well  screened 
from  the  railway  by  the  trees, 
and  which  Jean  had  decided 
was  quite  a  suitable  landing- 
ground  for  an  aeroplane. 

The  farm  to  which  the  land 
belonged  was  some  half  a  mile 
or  more  away,  and  it  was  con- 
nected with  the  main  road  by 
a  cart-track,  which  crossed  the 
railway  at  the  level  -  crossing 
already  mentioned. 

The  owner  of  the  farm  was 
a  friend  of  the  man  whom  they 
were  going  to  pick  up  in 
Courtrai,  and  the  latter  had 
already  joined  Jean  and  the 
other  Belgian  before  the  events 
occurred  which  will  now  be 
related.  As  Jean's  confeder- 
ates were  both  Belgians,  it 
will  be  gathered  that  closer 
acquaintanceship  with  "  les 
Braves "  had  caused  him  to 
modify  his  previous  prejudices 
against  them.  Our  friends  had 
not  thought  it  wise  or  necessary 
to  inform  the  farmer  of  their 
actual  plans,  since  he  might 
very  possibly  have  raised  the 
strongest  objections  to  their 
damaging  the  line  near  his 
land,  as  being  likely  to  lead 
to  serious  trouble  for  himself. 
From  what  they  had  told  him 
he  merely  imagined  that  they 
were  going  to  receive  a  message 
of  some  sort  from  an  aeroplane, 
after  which  they  would  all 
disperse  as  rapidly  as  possible. 

On  this  assumption  he  raised 
no  objection  to  hiding  them 


during  the  day,  nor  to  allowing 
them  to  make  use  of  hay  from 
the  ricks  in  the  corner  of  the 
field,  which  was  required  for 
marking  the  landing-ground. 
He  merely  drew  the  line  at 
actually  helping  them  to  pre- 
pare the  piles  which  were  to 
form  the  signal  bonfires,  so 
that  he  could  disclaim  all  know- 
ledge, and  prove  an  alibi  when 
the  inevitable  investigations 
were  made  subsequently. 

Our  friends,  however,  had 
soon  made  the  necessary  ar- 
rangements, the  heaps  of  hay 
being  arranged  so  as  to  indi- 
cate to  the  aeroplane  the  best 
direction  in  which  to  land,  as 
Jean  had  been  taught  at  the 
aerodrome.  By  the  side  of 
each  pile  they  also  placed 
spare  hay  for  replenishing  the 
bonfire,  and  buckets  of  water 
to  douse  it,  if  required. 

Having  completed  these  ar- 
rangements, Jean  and  his  con- 
federates discussed  the  question 
of  watching  the  bridge,  to  see 
if  the  Germans  had  made  any 
change  in  their  routine  since 
Jean  was  last  there.  The 
latter  was  not  in  favour  of 
showing  himself  anywhere  near 
the  level-crossing,  since  he  did 
not  want  his  friend  there  to 
see  him,  for  Jean  had  given 
reasons  for  his  previous  visits 
which  would  thereby  be  shown 
to  be  false.  Besides,  there  was 
no  object  in  implicating  the 
man  in  what  promised,  if  all 
went  well,  to  be  an  extremely 
unpleasant  surprise  for  the 
enemy.  The  latter  were  crea- 
tures of  habit,  and  it  was  un- 
likely that  they  would  have 


122 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


[July 


made  any  change  in  the  routine 
of  relieving  the  sentry.  Jean 
and  his  friends  had  been  up  all 
the  preceding  night,  and  would 
again  be  on  the  move  all  that 
night  too,  so  eventually  they 
decided  to  chance  it,  and  all 
took  cover  in  a  big  barn,  where 
they  slept  till  nightfall. 

It  must  have  been  close  on 
11  P.M.,  and  the  moon  was 
just  rising,  when  they  again 
crept  out,  and  the  two  Belgians 
made  their  way  to  their  posts 
and  lay  down  by  the  piles  of 
hay,  ready  to  light  up — one 
keeping  watch  towards  the 
trees  in  the  direction  of  the 
level-crossing,  whilst  the  other 
gazed  into  the  sky  in  the 
direction  of  Courtrai. 

Meantime  Jean  had  reached 
the  belt  of  trees,  and  was 
making  his  way  cautiously 
along  the  edge  of  the  corn  on 
the  north  bank  of  the  brook, 
his  eyes  fixed  intently  on  the 
bridge,  where  a  solitary  figure 
gradually  came  into  view,  sil- 
houetted against  the  dark  sky 
in  the  diffused  light  of  the 
moon,  which  had  not  yet  topped 
the  trees  behind  Jean. 

The  latter  crawled  slowly 
forward,  straining  his  eyes  in 
the  endeavour  to  make  out 
whether  the  sentry  was  look- 
ing towards  him  or  in  the  other 
direction. 

Gradually  he  worked  his  way 
forward  until  he  was  only  fifty 
yards  from  the  bridge,  and  he 
took  cover  behind  the  trunk 
of  a  willow,  watching  the  sentry 
who  was  now  pacing  slowly 
backwards  and  forwards  on  the 
embankment.  Then  Jean  saw 


him  stop,  and  as  the  moon 
came  up  over  the  belt  of  trees  it 
shone  full  on  to  his  white  face, 
when  he  looked  down  in  Jean's 
direction.  Good !  thought  the 
latter  ;  now  I  can  tell  for  cer- 
tain which  way  he  is  looking. 

The  man  continued  his 
monotonous  pacing,  and  then, 
to  Jean's  relief,  he  stopped 
and  leant  over  the  low  pillar 
at  the  far  side  of  the  track, 
gazing  apparently  across  the 
field  towards  the  main  road, 
along  which  a  column  of  troops 
of  some  kind  was  marching  ; 
for,  in  the  still  air,  Jean  could 
hear  the  rumble  of  iron-shod 
wheels  on  the  cobble-stones. 

He  crept  forward,  the  man 
still  motionless  above,  and 
safely  reached  the  bridge,  under 
which  the  grass  was  worn  bare 
by  people  passing  underneath, 
flattening  himself  into  the 
shadow  against  the  foot  of 
the  abutment  lest  the  sentry 
should  look  down  between  the 
sleepers. 

There  he  stayed  for  some 
time,  listening  for  any  move- 
ment on  the  part  of  the  man 
above,  which  would  indicate  a 
change  of  position. 

Jean  knew  that  midnight, 
the  time  chosen  by  Head- 
quarters for  the  arrival  of  the 
aeroplane,  was  singularly  un- 
fortunate, for  when  he  had 
made  his  various  reconnais- 
sances he  had  observed  that 
it  was  actually  about  this 
time  that  the  sentry  was 
changed.  The  relief  might 
therefore  be  moving  along  the 
embankment  as  the  aeroplane 
arrived,  and  they  could  hardly 


1921.] 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


123 


fail  to  notice  it ;  besides  which 
he  himself  might  have  three 
men  to  deal  with  instead  of 
only  one. 

He  waited  for  a  time,  hoping 
that  the  relief  would  be  car- 
ried out  punctually,  but  there 
was  no  sign  of  it,  and  still  the 
sentry  remained  motionless 
above  in  the  same  position. 
He  looked  at  his  watch ;  it 
was  only  a  few  minutes  to 
twelve,  and  the  aeroplane  might 
arrive  at  any  moment.  At  five 
minutes  past  twelve  he  decided 
that  he  could  wait  no  longer, 
and  must  take  his  chance  that 
the  hour  of  relief  had  been 
changed.  He  removed  his  boots, 
and  as  he  did  so  he  heard  the 
sentry's  rifle  rattle,  as  appar- 
ently he  laid  or  dropped  it  on 
the  ground.  That  did  not  look 
as  if  he  expected  to  be  relieved, 
or  surely  he  would  be  on  the 
alert,  ready  to  get  away  to 
bed  as  soon  as  possible. 

Jean  wished  that  he  and 
his  friends  had  not  taken  it 
for  granted  that  the  enemy 
would  stick  to  their  usual 
routine,  and  that  some  one 
had  watched  during  the  after- 
noon instead  of  sleeping.  How- 
ever, there  was  no  object  in 
waiting  any  longer,  and  he 
stole  quietly  back  to  the  side 
of  the  bridge  farthest  away 
from  the  sentry,  crawled 
through  the  long  grass  up  the 
embankment,  and  peered  over 
the  edge.  The  sentry  was  still 
leaning  over  the  pillar,  gazing 
away  towards  the  road,  his 
helmet  in  his  hand,  for  the 
night  was  warm,  and  he  was 
heavily  clad. 


Jean  took  in  the  situation 
at  a  glance,  and  he  rose  and 
leapt  across  the  permanent 
way.  The  man  must  have 
heard  a  stone  move,  for  he 
half  turned  his  head  as  Jean 
reached  him  ;  but  he  was  too 
late,  for  the  Frenchman  had 
seized  him  by  the  knees,  and 
lifting  him,  thrust  him  head- 
foremost over  the  edge  of  the 
bridge.  He  fell  with  a  dull 
thud  on  the  path  below,  and 
his  helmet  rolled  away  with  a 
hollow  clang.  Jean  ran  down 
the  embankment,  and  found 
that  the  man  was  lying  like 
a  log,  but  whether  his  neck 
was  broken  or  not  he  did  not 
stop  to  ascertain,  for  he  was 
busy  taking  off  his  equipment 
and  then  his  long  grey  cloak  ; 
having  done  which  he  rolled 
him  into  the  stream,  and  looked 
round  for  the  helmet.  Two 
minutes  later,  Jean,  in  full 
German  equipment,  was  pacing 
up  and  down  the  embankment 
in  front  of  the  bridge,  keeping 
a  sharp  look-out  towards  the 
level  -  crossing,  and  glancing 
occasionally  towards  Courtrai ; . 
whilst  on  the  main  road  the 
long  column  still  went  rumbling 
past,  quite  unconscious  of  the 
tragedy  which  had  happened 
only  a  few  hundred  yards  away. 

Some  time  previously  an 
aeroplane  of  a  slow  type,  speci- 
ally selected  for  ease  in  landing, 
had  crossed  the  front  a  little 
north  of  Messines,  and  was 
now,  like  a  flighting  duck, 
following  the  silver  streak  of 
the  Lys,  past  the  apparently 
dead  townships  of  Commines, 
Werwick,  and  Menin,  until  it 


124 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


[July 


reached  the  dark  mass  of  Cour- 
trai,    where    a    few    scattered 
lights   still   showed.     There  it 
began  to  circle,  gaining  height, 
as  if  in  some  doubt  as  to  its 
way,  and  then  one,  two,  and 
finally    a    third    brilliant    star 
floated   slowly   down   towards 
the  slumbering  town,   causing 
considerable  astonishment  and 
uneasiness    amongst    the    few 
watchers,     lest     some    bombs 
should  be  going  to  follow ;  for 
dropping  "  eggs  "  on  the  rail- 
way bridges  was  quite  a  fav- 
ourite  amusement  for  British 
planes,  and  the  town  was  apt 
to  suffer  from  the  shorts  and 
overs — considerably    more,    in 
fact,    than    the    bridges    from 
the    hits.      Still    the    machine 
circled  above,  for  in  the  slant- 
ing moonlight  the  pilot  could 
not  clearly  make  out  the  rail- 
way line  below  which  was  to 
guide  him  onwards  to  his  des- 
tination.     At     this     juncture 
two  trains  left  for  the  north 
at  short   intervals,  and  as  he 
watched  the  red  glow  from  the 
funnels,  he  saw  them  diverge. 
His    way   was    clear,    and    he 
thankfully  followed  one  of  them 
for  a  few  miles,  his  eyes  fixed 
intently  on  the  ground  to  his 
right.        Then     he     suddenly 
swerved,    throttled    down    his 
engine,   put   the   nose   of   the 
aeroplane  down,  and  made  a 
perfect  landing  in  a  big  grass 
field  where  two  bonfires  were 
blazing — for  the  Belgians  had 
seen   the    signals    in    the    sky 
over  Courtrai,  and  had  carried 
out  their  instructions  with  com- 
mendable promptitude. 
Meantime  Jean,  manfully  re- 


straining a  desire  to  empty  his 
magazine  into  such  an  easy 
target,  had  stood  smartly  to 
attention  at  his  post  as  the 
train,  which  had  guided  the 
pilot,  thundered  by,  the  driver 
waving  to  him  as  he  passed. 
There  was  still  no  movement 
at  the  level  -  crossing,  for  the 
gates  were  normally  set  so  as 
to  leave  the  line  clear,  and 
only  opened  to  let  road  traffic 
through,  which  seldom  hap- 
pened at  night,  for,  as  already 
mentioned,  it  was  merely  a 
cart- track  leading  to  the  farm. 
He  heard  the  aeroplane  ap- 
proaching, and  when  the  engine 
was  shut  off  he  could  have 
shouted  for  joy,  since  he  knew 
that  it  must  have  picked  up 
the  ground  lights  and  was 
landing.  Everything  was  pro- 
ceeding "  according  to  plan." 

But  apparently  some  one  at 
the  level-crossing  must  also 
have  heard  it — or  was  it  the 
relief  ? — for  lights  appeared  in 
the  doorway  of  one  of  the 
houses,  and  he  had  some  anx- 
ious moments  before  the  door 
was  again  closed,  and  he  con- 
cluded that  it  was  merely  a 
coincidence,  or  that  if  any  one 
had  heard  the  aeroplane,  they 
had  not  thought  it  incumbent 
on  them  to  turn  out  and  make 
a  search  at  that  time  of  night, 
until  their  help  was  actually 
called  for. 

To  return  to  the  big  grass 
field,  the  bonfires  had  been 
doused  with  water  directly  the 
machine  landed,  and  the  pilot 
was  now  indicating  to  the  two 
Belgians  that  the  explosives 
were  in  the  vacant  observer's 


1921.] 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


125 


seat.  Whilst  they  were  getting 
out  the  stuff,  he  asked  one  of 
them  where  Adrienne  and  Jean 
were.  The  man  only  caught 
the  last  name,  for  he  had  never 
heard  of  Adrienne,  and  by  way 
of  reply  turned  and  pointed 
in  the  direction  of  the  bridge. 

The  pilot  had  kept  the  engine 
running,  as  otherwise  he  could 
not  have  got  off  again  without 
assistance,  but  in  the  stillness 
of  the  night  it  seemed  to  him 
to  be  making  far  too  much 
noise,  and  in  trying  to  throttle 
it  down  still  further  he  acci- 
dentally stopped  it.  This  was 
awkward,  but  he  waited  until 
the  cargo  was  unloaded  before 
asking  the  men  if  either  of 
them  knew  how  to  swing  the 
propeller.  To  his  relief,  one 
of  them  stepped  in  front  and 
performed  the  operation  quite 
in  expert  style. 

Then  an  idea  struck  the 
pilot :  why  should  he  not  stay 
and  see  the  fun "?  And  then 
he  could  report  definitely 
whether  the  demolition  had 
been  successful.  It  was  rather 
poor-spirited  to  fly  away  and 
leave  these  civilians  and  a 
girl  to  run  all  the  danger  ;  he 
had  not  been  given  definite 
orders  to  come  back^at  once 
— which  was  rather  special 
pleading,  because,  of  course, 
no  one  imagined  he  would 
do  anything  else, — besides,  he 
knew  all  about]  fixing  the  gun- 
cotton,  and  these  people  might 
easily  make  a  mess  of  it,  and 
blow  themselves  up  instead  of 
the  bridge. 

So  he  argued  to  himself ; 
but  the  reader,  who  will  have 


guessed  that  the  pilot's  name 
was  Archer,  will  also  appreciate 
better  perhaps  than  he  himself 
did,  that  there  was  possibly 
an  additional  reason,  which 
tipped  the  balance.  In  any  case 
his  decision  did  credit  to  his 
loyalty  and  courage,  if  not  to 
his  judgment,  and  having  made 
it,  he  lost  no  time  in  getting 
out  of  the  machine,  when, 
having  distributed  the  explo- 
sives between  them,  the  three 
started  towards  the  bridge. 
As  they  got  up  to  the  belt  of 
trees,  Archer  sent  one  of  the 
Belgians  forward  to  recon- 
noitre, and  Jean,  who  was  on 
the  look-out,  hailed  him  with 
a  low  whistle  and  waved  his 
rifle  ;  then  they  all  three  went 
forward,  and  took  cover  under 
the  bridge. 

Archer  looked  about  for  Ad- 
rienne, and  seeing  no  sign  of 
her,  called  up  to  Jean,  "  Where 
is  Adrienne  $  " — getting  the 
short  reply — "  Lille." 

Jean  did  not  seem  inclined 
to  be  communicative,  so  Archer 
did  not  pursue  the  subject ; 
for  they  had  plenty  of  other 
things  to  think  about,  and  there 
was  no  time  to  lose. 

On  previous  occasions  it  was 
Jean  who  had  led  and  Archer 
who  had  followed,  but  uncon- 
sciously the  latter  now  assumed 
command  of  the  party,  and 
they  accepted  his  leadership 
without  hesitation. 

He  whispered  some  instruc- 
tions to  Jean,  and  the  latter 
went  a  short  way  down  the 
track  towards  the  level-crossing 
to  keep  watch,  whilst  Archer 
took  charge  of  the  actual  fixing 


126 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


[July 


of  the  charges.  The  people 
on  the  other  side,  from  whom 
Archer  had  received  them,  knew 
the  plan  of  the  bridge,  and  the 
slabs  of  gun-cotton  were  already 
securely  fixed  to  short  lengths 
of  board,  through  which  holes 
had  been  made  for  the  de- 
tonators. 

Under  Archer's  direction 
these  were  firmly  lashed  against 
the  main  girders,  about  four 
feet  from  the  ends  nearest  to 
the  level-crossing,  the  idea  being 
that  the  conspirators  could  then 
get  away  quickly  to  the  aero- 
plane without  having  to  cross 
the  brook. 

This  part  of  the  operation 
was  soon  finished,  and  it  only 
remained  to  put  in  the  de- 
tonators, bring  the  instanta- 
neous fuze  to  which  [they  were 
fixed  up  through  the  floorway 
and  connect  it  with  the  flat 
detonators,  clipped  on  to  the 
top  of  each  of  the  four  railway 
metals.  The  first  train  which 
came  in  either  direction  would 
explode  at  least  two  of  the 
charges  on  the  same  principle 
as  a  fog-signal. 

Archer  had  finished  three 
out  of  the  four — for  he  did 
not  trust  the  Belgians  to  do 
this  somewhat  dangerous  and 
delicate  operation  —  and  was 
still  lying  on  his  face  working 
at  the  fourth,  when  Jean  came 
running  back  with  the  news 
that  the  relief  had  left  the 
level-crossing  and  was  coming 
along  the  embankment,  the 
time  then  being  about  12.30 
A.M.  At  the  same  moment  a 
wire  rattled,  and  they  heard  a 
signal  go  down  somewhere  near. 


A  train  would  be  passing  in  at 
most  five  minutes,  yet  it  looked 
to  Archer  as  if  they  were 
going  to  be  beaten  on  the  post, 
for  the  Germans  would  cer- 
tainly arrive  before  the  train, 
which  was  not  yet  in  sight ; 
in  fact,  they  were  only  some 
200  yards  away,  though  appa- 
rently still  unconscious  of  what 
was  going  on  in  front  of  them. 

But  if  they  arrived  before 
the  train,  they  would  find  that 
the  sentry  had  disappeared, 
and  could  hardly  fail  to  notice 
the  detonators  on  the  line,  and 
Archer  knew  that  all  their 
efforts  would  have  been  in 
vain.  "  You  must  stop  them 
till  the  train  comes,"  he  said ; 
and  as  Jean  went  back  a  few 
yards,  he  told  the  Belgians  to 
get  away  over  the  bridge — for 
they  were  unarmed,  as  was 
he  also  for  the  matter  of  that 
— and  then  he  again  threw 
himself  on  his  face  and  tried 
feverishly  to  complete  the  last 
connection. 

But  fixing  a  fuze  into  a 
detonator  by  moonlight  is  not 
an  easy  matter  at  the  best  of 
times,  and  lying  on  your  face 
across  sleepers  makes  it  no 
easier.  It  seemed  to  take 
ages — actually  it  was  little  more 
than  a  minute — before  he  had 
finally  got  it  right.  The  two 
Germans,  who  had  been  steadily 
approaching  all  the  time,  were 
now  quite  close,  and  as  he  got 
up  he  heard  them  call  out  some- 
thing in  German  to  the  bogus 
sentry.  Getting  no  reply,  and 
perhaps  because  they  had 
caught  sight  of  Archer,  or  be- 
cause they  noted  something 


1921.] 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


127 


suspicious  in  the  attitude  and 
appearance  of  the  sentry — for 
the  moon  was  now  well  up — 
they  both  half  raised  their  rifles. 
Thinking  they  were  going  to 
shoot,  Jean  settled  any  doubts 
by  dropping  on  one  knee  and 
taking  aim.  Next  moment  he 
had  fired,  and  one  man  fell. 
The  second  German  promptly 
fired  at  Jean,  and  the  latter 
fell  in  a  heap,  and  then  rolled 
across  the  metal,  where  he  lay 
writhing. 

Without  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation Archer  dashed  forward 
from  the  bridge,  the  German 
having  a  shot  at  him  which 
went  wide,  and  then  another 
as  Archer  threw  himself  down 
close  to  where  Jean's  rifle  lay, 
and  quickly  recharged  it.  For 
a  moment  the  German  thought 
that  he  too  had  been  hit,  and 
before  he  could  find  out  his  mis- 
take Archer  had  shot  him  dead. 

Then  the  Englishman  ran 
forward  and  quickly  rolled  the 
bodies  of  the  two  Germans 
over  the  edge  of  the  embank- 
ment, for  fear  that  the  driver 
of  the  coming  train  might  see 
an  obstruction  on  the  line  and 
pull  up  before  reaching  the 
bridge. 

Lights  were  already  moving 
at  the  level-crossing  as  he  went 
to  Jean,  who  was  now  sitting 
up  groaning  and  holding  his  leg. 

"  Are  you  badly  hurt  H  "  he 
inquired  anxiously. 

"  My  left  leg  is  smashed 
below  the  knee,  and  my  right 
knee  is  injured.  I  cannot 
move ;  pull  me  clear  of  the 
line,  and  then  get  away  quick — 
I  am  done  for," 


This  was  the  last  thing  which 
Archer  had  any  intention  of 
doing,  and  he  looked  hastily 
up  and  down  the  line.  The  red 
lights  of  a  train  were  approach- 
ing from  the  south,  whilst  more 
Germans  were  coming  along  the 
permanent  way  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  level-crossing.  There 
was  no  sign  of  the  Belgians, 
and  Archer  bitterly  regretted 
having  sent  them  away.  Could 
he  get  Jean  across  the  bridge 
before  the  train  reached  it  ? 
It  would  be  a  near  thing,  but 
he  might  just  do  it,  and  then 
the  explosion  would  cover  their 
retreat,  and  give  the  Germans 
something  else  to  think  about. 
It  was  the  only  possible  chance 
of  saving  Jean. 

"  Quick,"  he  said,  as  he 
knelt  down  on  one  knee  beside 
him,  "  put  your  arms  round 
my  neck  and  hang  on  tight." 
Then  with  a  great  effort — for 
Jean  was  a  fairly  heavy  man, 
and  Archer  but  a  stripling — 
he  got  up  on  to  his  feet  and 
commenced  the  perilous  pass- 
age across  the  bridge,  slowly 
stepping  from  sleeper  to  sleeper, 
and  scarcely  conscious  of  the 
men  who  were  running  up 
behind,  or  of  the  rapidly  ap- 
proaching train  in  front ;  for 
his  mind  was  entirely  occupied 
by  fear  lest  Jean  should  faint 
and  relax  the  grip  round  his 
neck  which  was  almost  throt- 
tling him. 

When  at  last  he  reached  the 
farther  side,  the  train  was 
scarcely  100  yards  away,  and 
perhaps  it  was  the  fear  of 
hitting  it  that  prevented  the 
men  behind  from  firing. 


128 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


[July 


Had  they  done  so  they  might 
have  warned  the  driver,  and 
caused  him  to  pull  up  in  time. 

As  Archer  scrambled  down 
the  embankment  into  the  field 
at  the  side,  it  thundered  past 
him,  and  the  next  minute  there 
was  a  deafening  explosion,  fol- 
lowed by  the  tearing  and  rend- 
ing of  wood,  accompanying  a 
series  of  gradually  diminishing 
crashes  as  carriage  after  car- 
riage dashed  into  the  back  of 
the  one  in  front  and  added 
to  the  indescribable  tangle, 
finally  finishing  with  a  terrific 
explosion  as  an  ammunition 
truck  went  up.  The  air  was 
filled  with  flying  fragments,  to 
the  great  alarm  of  the  Belgians, 
who  had  been  watching  Archer's 
perilous  journey  across  the 
bridge  with  breathless  anxiety, 
and  had  gallantly  come  forward 
ready  to  take  Jean  from  him 
as  he  reached^the  bottom  of 
the  embankment. 

Fragments  were  still  falling 
round  them  as,  carrying  Jean, 
they  made  their  way  as  fast 
as  they  could  down  the  side 
of  the  brook,  looking  for  a 
bridge  of  some  kind  by  which 
to  cross  over  and  get  to  the 
aeroplane. 

As  they  toiled  along,  they 
could  hear  the  hubbub  behind 
them  growing  ever  louder,  but 
no  one  seemed  to  be  paying 
any  particular  attention  to 
them,  and  they  proceeded  more 
deliberately.  When  they  had 
got  about  opposite  to  where 
the  Belgians  said  the  plane 
was,  Archer  called  a  halt,  and 
waded  across  the  muddy  brook 
up  to  his  waist ;  then  somehow 


they  managed  to  get  Jean 
over,  carrying  him  as  carefully 
as  they  could,  for  he  had 
fainted. 

At  last  they  reached  the 
machine,  and  laid  the  wounded 
man  down  on  the  grass,  when 
Archer  made  a  rough  splint 
and  tied  his  leg  up  with  a 
handkerchief  and  a  first-aid 
bandage  which  he  had  in  his 
pocket.  He  had  already  de- 
cided what  to  do. 

To  leave  Jean  in  the  farm 
would  mean  certain  capture, 
and  the  other  two  could  not 
be  expected  to  stay  with  him, 
as  they  were  naturally  anxious 
to  get  well  away  from  the 
neighbourhood  before  daylight. 

If  the  Germans  found  Jean 
it  would  mean  death  both  to 
him  and  to  the  farmer,  who 
would  thereby  be  implicated 
in  the  destruction  of  the  bridge  ; 
so  Archer  gave  some  whispered 
instructions  to  the  men,  and 
they  lifted  Jean  into  the  ob- 
server's seat,  and  placed  him 
in  as  comfortable  a  position  as 
possible. 

The  pilot  then  climbed  in, 
and  the  man  who  had  previ- 
ously swung  the  propeller  was 
told  to  do  it  again.  The 
engine  was  cold  and  would 
not  start,  and  but  for  the 
uproar  of  the  railway  they 
could  hardly  have  failed  to 
attract  attention.  As  it  was, 
however,  the  whole  of  the 
picket  were  now  at  the  bridge  ; 
and  not  only  they,  since  the 
column  on  the  road  had  halted, 
and  men  were  running  down  the 
cart-track  from  it  towards  the 
level-crossing,  and  also  across 


1921.] 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


129 


the  corn-field  ;  for  part  of  the 
train  was  burning  fiercely,  and 
trucks  were  exploding  at  in- 
tervals. 

At  last,  to  every  one's  relief, 
the  engine  started,  and  Archer 
told  the  Belgians  to  get  away, 
which  they  lost  no  further 
time  in  doing,  for  they  had  to 
reach  cover  before  daylight, 
and  the  way  was  long. 

As  the  old  machine  sped 
over  the  grass  and  bravely 
took  the  air  in  a  northerly 
direction,  Archer  considered 
whether  he  should  swing  round 
right-handed  over  the  farm, 
or  left-handed  on  to  the  rail- 
way, which  was  to  be  his  guide 
back  to  Courtrai. 

The  thought  of  the  farm 
reminded  him  of  the  farmer. 
Poor  devil !  What  would  hap- 
pen to  him  next  day  ?  The 
Germans  would  be  certain  to 
think  he  had  had  a  hand  in 
the  events  of  the  night,  if 
they  had  not  spotted  the  aero- 
plane. It  might  divert  sus- 
picion from  him  and  also  from 
the  Belgians,  and  help  them 
to  get  away,  if  the  enemy 
actually  saw  the  aeroplane. 
He  would  make  certain  any- 
way that  they  did  so  now,  and 
he  swung  round  left-handed 
on  to  the  railway,  coming  back 
rather  low  over  the  level- 
crossing  ;  for  he  wanted  to 
get  Jean  home  quickly,  and 
could  not  waste  time  in  gaming 
height. 

As  he  crossed  it  he  could  see 
a  number  of  figures  coming 
down  the  cart-track  from  the 
main  road,  and  there  was  no 
doubt,  from  the  flashes  of  their 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXIX. 


rifles  as  they  fired  at  him,  that 
they  had  seen  him.  "  Good  !  " 
he  thought,  and  at  the  same 
moment  felt  a  sharp  pain  in 
one  leg,  but  went  on  down  the 
railway,  rising  all  the  time. 
Streaming  across  the  corn-fields 
on  his  right  were  more  men, 
and  as  he  approached  the  scene 
of  the  wreck  he  could  see  that 
the  whole  place  was  lit  up  by 
burning  carriages,  some  of  which 
were  lying  on  their  side  half 
down  the  embankment. 

There  were  crowds  round, 
and  as  he  passed  overhead,  in 
the  full  light  of  the  conflagra- 
tion, a  perfect  fusilade  was 
opened,  and  suddenly  he  was 
struck  a  terrific  blow.  For  a 
second  he  almost  lost  control 
of  the  machine,  but  with  a 
great  effort  of  will  he  righted 
it.  But  he  knew  that  he  was 
seriously,  if  not  mortally, 
wounded,  and  wondered  if  he 
would  retain  consciousness  long 
enough  to  get  the  machine 
home.  Then  a  sudden  fear 
seized  him  lest  Jean  too  had 
been  hit  again,  but  so  far  as 
he  could  see  there  appeared 
to  be  no  change  in  the  posi- 
tion of  the  unconscious  figure 
in  front,  and  he  hoped  that 
he  had  escaped.  As  he  looked 
at  Jean,  his  heart  went  out 
to  him,  and  he  clenched  his 
teeth,  determined  that,  come 
what  may,  he  would  get  him 
across  the  lines. 

By  the  time  that  he  reached 
Courtrai  he  could  hardly  feel 
the  foot  control,  but  his  eyes 
were  still  clear  and  his  teeth 
set.  Mechanically  he  followed 
the  Lys,  still  shining  silvery  in 
E 


130 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


[July 


the  moonlight,  as  he  had  done 
on  the  outward  journey;  but 
to  shorten  the  flight  he  swung 
away  to  the  right  at  Menin, 
following  the  Menin  road  past 
Hooge,  and  so  over  the  ruins 
of  Ypres,  where  the  shattered 
walls  of  the  Cathedral  and  the 
Cloth  Hall  lifted  jagged  arms 
as  if  in  mute  protest  to  the 
unmerited  destruction  which 
had  fallen  upon  them.  The 
heaps  of  limestone,  which  had 
once  been  fair  houses,  cleared 
to  the  sides  of  the  road,  shone 
white  in  the  moonlight,  and 
away  before  him  stretched  the 
long  straight  line  of  the  Poper- 
inghe  road,  which  would  guide 
him  towards  home.  But  the 
pilot  scarcely  noticed  all  this, 
for  he  was  sinking  fast,  and 
he  knew  it.  Already  the  ground 
below  was  becoming  blurred 
to  his  failing  vision  ;  now  he 
could  scarcely  distinguish  the 
long  straight  road,  and  then 
he  knew  that  he  could  never 
reach  his  destination.  He  had 
almost  abandoned  hope  when, 
with  the  instinct  of  the  homing 
pigeon,  he  faintly  discerned 
symmetrical  lights  slightly  to 
his  right. 

Thank  God !  that  must  be 
an  aerodrome.  He  nerved  him- 
self for  a  last  effort,  and  turned 
towards  it ;  switched  off  his 
engine,  and  scraping  over  some 
trees,  drifted  down  on  to  the 
grass  beyond. 

When  the  men  on  duty  in 
the  hangars  came  out  to  see 
who  this  midnight  visitor  might 
be,  reposing  motionless  in  the 
middle  of  their  aerodrome,  a 
strange  sight  met  their  eyes, 


and  one  of  them  went  off  hur- 
riedly to  fetch  an  officer  ;  for 
in  the  front  seat  was  a  dead 
man  who,  from  his  uniform, 
they  took  to  be  a  German, 
whilst  behind  was  a  strange 
pilot,  his  head  hanging  appa- 
rently lifelessly  over  the  side, 
one  hand  still  grasping  the 
control  lever.  They  were  al- 
most speechless  with  astonish- 
ment, and  their  wonder  was 
only  deepened  when,  on  lifting 
Jean  out,  it  was  seen  that  the 
long  German  coat  covered  a 
civilian's  clothes.  Telephone 
inquiries  by  the  officer  soon 
served  to  identify  the  unknown 
pilot ;  but  to  the  rank  and 
file,  who  did  not  hear  the  sub- 
sequent fuller  explanation,  the 
arrival  of  the  strange  visitors 
no  doubt  still  remains  one  of 
the  unfathomable  mysteries  of 
the  war. 

But  Jean,  as  Archer  had 
hoped,  was  not  dead,  nor  even 
mortally  wounded,  and  Archer 
also  proved  to  be  still  alive, 
though  his  case  was  far  more 
serious  ;  so  much  so  that  the 
doctors  marvelled  how  he  could 
have  landed  the  machine,  and 
Jean  could  throw  no  light  on 
the  question.  He,  indeed,  was 
as  astonished  as  a  man  well 
could  be  when  he  came  to  and 
found  himself  in  a  British  hos- 
pital ;  and  there  was  no  one 
to  tell  him  how  he  had  got 
there,  for  Archer  was  still  un- 
conscious. On  one  point  only 
was  he  quite  clear — viz.,  that 
the  boy  had  saved  his  life,  and 
that  he  must  be  put  alongside 
him  in  hospital ;  and  so  the 
same  ambulance  took  them 


1921.] 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


131 


away,  for  the  hospitals  near 
by  were  being  cleared  in  antici- 
pation of  the  wounded,  who 
were  already  coming  in  fast 
from  the  opening  stages  of  the 
third  battle  of  Ypres. 

There  Archer  rallied  for  a 
short  time,  and  Jean  learnt 
something  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

He,  for  his  part,  asked  Jean 
anxiously  for  news  of  Adrienne, 
and,  seeing  how  matters  were, 
the  Frenchman  lied  nobly,  as- 
suring the  poor  boy  that  she 
was  "  tres  bien,"  and  that, 
thinking  Archer  might  be  com- 
ing in  the  aeroplane,  she  had 
told  Jean  to  be  sure  and  give 
him  her  love,  as  unfortunately 
she  was  too  busy  in  Lille  with 
other  matters  to  get  away. 
This  seemed  to  comfort  him 
greatly.  To  Jean's  endeavours 
to  thank  him  for  saving  his 
life,  he  would  only  whisper, 
"  That's  nothing,  old  man ; 
you've  done  much  more  for 
me,  and  would  do  it  again." 

But  it  was  soon  clear  that 
Jean  was  not  to  have  the  oppor- 
tunity, for  it  became  increas- 
ingly evident  that  Archer  could 
not  last  long — and,  indeed,  his 
mother  had  already  been  tele- 
graphed for.  Unfortunately, 
on  the  morning  that  she  reached 
Boulogne,  the  boy's  brave  spirit 
made  its  last  flight,  "  per  ardua 
ad  astra,"  leaving  the  smuggler 
prostrate  with  grief,  for  he  had 
learnt  to  love  the  boy  with  a 
sincerity  strange  in  such  a 
hardened  shiner,  whose  whole 
lif  e  had  been  spent  in  a  struggle 
against  legally  constituted  au- 
thority. Perhaps  if  he  had  met 


a  few  of  Archer's  kind  in  his 
younger  days  his  manner  of 
life  would  have  been  different. 

Archer  was  put  to  rest  near 
the  hospital,  in  the  war  ceme- 
tery where  sleep  many  of 
Britain's  bravest  and  best,  who 
came  at  her  call  from  every 
quarter  of  the  globe.  And 
when  the  last  trump  shall 
sound,  and  the  graves  give  up 
their  dead,  he  will  rise  in  a 
goodly  company,  and  will  not 
be  ashamed. 

And  were  the  other  bridges 
blown  up  ?  Who  knows  ?  but 
the  reader  may  calculate  for 
himself  the  chances  of  success 
or  failure  from  this  single  in- 
stance, and  it  is  unlikely  that 
the  other  parties  carried  out 
their  tasks  with  greater,  or 
even  with  equal,  skill  and 
devotion.  Certainly  the  course 
of  the  battle  would  not  lead 
one  to  suppose  that  they  met 
with  any  great  measure  of 
success  ;  but  that  would  not 
be  conclusive,  since  it  was  the 
weather  and  not  the  enemy 
which  beat  the  patient,  plod- 
ding infantry,  struggling  for- 
ward through  the  ever-deepen- 
ing mud. 

Then  Archer's  sacrifice  was 
in  vain  ? 

No  !  a  thousand  times  No  ! 
For  if  the  destruction  of  the 
bridge  delayed  even  a  few 
trainloads  of  men  or  munitions 
from  reaching  the  front,  as  it 
must  have  done,  it  saved  many 
a  gallant  life — and  could  any 
English  gentleman  ask  more  in 
exchange  for  his  own  f  Cer- 
tainly not  Archer,  who  would 
have  answered,  in  the  true 


132 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


[July 


public  school  spirit,  "  Who  dies    we  not  then  rather  say  with 
if  England  lives  t  "  Lindsay  Gordon? — 

the 

"  Let  never  a  tear  his  memory  stain, 
Give  his  ashes  never  a  sigh, 
One  of  many  who  perished,  NOT  IN 


And   even   if   we   take 
least   favourable   view    of   the 
material  results  achieved,  the 
moral  effects   of   such   an  ex- 
ploit are  incalculable.    Should 


VAIN, 
AS   A   TYPE   OF   OUR   CHIVALRY.1 


L'ENVOI. 


Jean's  injuries  were  not  really 
serious,  and  though  he  walks 
with  a  slight  limp,  he  is  as 
active  as  ever  ;  but  during  the 
war  he  went  no  more  a-roaming. 
No  doubt  he  would  have  been 
ready  to  answer  the  call  had 
it  come,  but  it  was  thought 
that  he  had  earned  a  rest,  and 
he  was  given  it  in  the  shape 
of  a  quiet  billet  on  the  lines 
of  communication,  where  the 
Croix-de-guerre,  which  he  now 
wore  alongside  his  British 
medal,  made  a  brave  show, 
earning  him  many  a  petit  verre 
from  the  men  and,  what  he 
valued  far  more,  many  a  soft 
smile  from  the  ladies. 

Faithful  to  his  promise,  "  Le 
Commandant  "  obtained  a  re- 
mission of  the  term  of  imprison- 
ment to  which  he  had  been 
condemned  in  default  for  his 
last  smuggling  exploit,  and 
after  the  Armistice  he  returned 
to  his  village,  full  of  honour 
and  renown. 

But  his  house  was  in  ruins, 
burnt,  as  we  know,  by  his 
own  hand,  and  though  he  was 
not  ungenerously  treated,  per- 
haps he  wanted  money  to 
rebuild  it  in  style. 

In  any  case,  one  cannot 
teach  an  old  dog  new  tricks, 


and  Jean  soon  found  a  life 
of  respectability  unutterably 
boring,  even  when  combined 
with  all  the  tclai  of  being  the 
hero  of  the  village.  Not  long 
ago  the  reader  may  have  noticed 
a  paragraph  in  the  daily  papers, 
somewhat  to  the  following 
effect : — 

"  AFFRAY  WITH  SMUGGLERS  ON 
THE  BELGIAN  FRONTIER,. 

"  A  daring  attempt  by  armed 
smugglers  to  run  two  motor 
lorries  full  of  contraband  across 
the  frontier  led  to  a  hot  en- 
gagement between  them  and 
the  Customs  authorities,  in 
which  two  of  the  latter  were 
wounded.  Finally,  one  of  the 
lorries  was  captured,  with  one 
severely  wounded  smuggler, 
but  the  remainder  of  the 
gang  escaped  in  the  other 
lorry  across  the  frontier  into 
Belgium." 

Jean  was  in  the  "  other " 
lorry,  and  the  writer  is  not 
ashamed  to  confess  that  he 
hopes  he  always  will  be  ! 

And  Adrienne  ?  After  their 
last  failure  to  induce  her  to 
speak  in  the  prison  at  Brussels, 
the  Germans  sent  her  to  Ger- 


1921.] 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


133 


many,  to  the  deep  chagrin  of 
the  Inspector,  who,  instead  of 
the  anticipated  promotion,  may 
be  presumed  to  have  received 
a  censure  for  having  made  a 
great  fuss  about  what  appa- 
rently was  all  a  mare's  nest. 
It  was  no  doubt  to  cover  up 
the  apparently  unjustifiable  tor- 
tures which  he  had  inflicted  on 
her,  that  they  sent  her  out  of 
the  country. 

It  was  more  than  a  year 
later  when  both  she  and  Grand'- 
mere  were  sent  back  to  their 
beloved  France,  which  was 
once  more  free  of  the  hated 
invader. 

There  from  Jean  she  heard 
of  Archer's  death,  and  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  met 
his  end.  It  is  perhaps  hardly 
necessary  to  say  that  the 
tragedy  grieved  her  very  deeply, 
and  for  a  time  she  was  incon- 
solable. But  it  removed  one 
of  the  obstacles  to  following 
the  path  which  had  been 
marked  out  for  her  in  the 
prison  at  Brussels — viz.,  to 
repay  her  debt  to  the  Church, 
which  had  saved  her,  by  devot- 
ing the  remainder  of  her  life 
to  its  service. 

There  still  remained  the  ques- 
tion of  Grand'mere,  and  Adri- 
enne  pondered  long  and  earn- 
estly as  to  where  her  duty  lay. 
Seeing,  however,  that  the  old 
lady  had  other  relatives  in 
the  village,  quite  apart  from 
Jean,  who  were  only  too  will- 
ing to  watch  over  her  declining 
years,  the  girl  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  "  le  Cure"  "  had  a 
right  to  claim  her,  and  thus 
it  was  that  she  returned  to 


Lille,  and  passed  once  again 
through  the  great  convent  gates. 

The  pretty  brown  hair  is 
now  hidden  under  a  dark  veil ; 
the  beautiful  eyes  shine  softly 
out  from  under  a  white  coif ; 
and  the  smile,  which  was  per- 
haps her  greatest  charm,  has 
taken  on  a  tinge  of  sadness, 
which  perhaps  will  pass  away 
in  time.  And  if  her  thoughts 
sometimes  stray,  when  she  looks 
out  from  the  casement  window 
from  which  she  saw  her  boy 
hero  fight  his  last  great  air- 
battle  and  emerge  victorious 
against  overwhelming  odds,  let 
us  remember  that  nuns  are 
human,  that  Adrienne  is  young, 
and  hope  that  it  may  not  be 
accounted  unto  her  for  sin. 

It  only  remains  to  tell  of 
the  fate  of  the  curl  of  brown 
hair  which  she  cut  off  in 
prison  and  sent  as  a  farewell 
message  to  Archer.  It  reached 
the  address  in  Holland  fully 
a  month  after  the  boy  had  been 
laid  to  rest,  and  was  forwarded 
to  his  home  in  the  country  by 
the  English  officer  who  had 
met  Adrienne  in  the  hotel  at 
Eotterdam.  At  the  first  oppor- 
tunity after  the  Armistice  his 
mother  went  over  to  visit  her 
son's  grave,  and  wishing  at  the 
same  time  to  visit  the  scenes 
of  his  exploits,  and  to  thank 
the  brave  people  who  had 
sheltered  him,  she  took  Adri- 
enne's  last  letter  to  serve  as 
an  introduction  to  Grand'mere. 
There  she  heard  for  the  first 
time  that  Adrienne  had  been 
spared,  and  in  the  circum- 
stances she  felt  that,  even  as 
Archer's  mother,  she  had  no 


134 


On  Hazardous  Service. 


[July 


right  to  keep  a  token  which  had 
been  sent  under  a  false  impres- 
sion of  the  actual  course  of  sub- 
sequent events.  She  therefore 
begged  the  old  lady  to  accept 
it  as  a  tribute  of  admiration 
and  gratitude  from  the  mother 
of  an  English  officer,  who  had 
lost  her  only  son. 

And  thus  it  is  that  Grand'- 
mere,  silver-haired  and  frail, 
but  greatly  honoured,  sits 
peacefully  in  the  whitewashed 
kitchen,  and  looks  proudly  but 
sometimes  sadly  at  the  Cross 
of  the  Legion  of  Honour  and 
the  curl  of  brown  hair  in  the 
simple  frame  which  hangs  by 
the  side  of  the  old  stove.  The 
curl  is  now  not  the  only 
British  tribute,  for  recently 
another  frame  has  been  added, 
containing  a  medal  with  a 
purple  ribbon,  of  which  Grand'- 
mere  is  intensely  proud. 

And  when,  during  the  long 
winter  evenings,  the  neigh- 


bours gather  in  the  old  kitchen 
and  tell  over  the  well-known 
stories  of  the  war,  the  old 
lady's  face  glows  with  pride 
as  she  recounts  the  exploits  of 
her  favourite  grand-daughter ; 
for,  pace  Jean,  of  all  the  local 
heroes  and  heroines  there  is 
none  who  can  vie  in  the 
popular  fancy  with  fair  Adri- 
enne.  Was  she  not  decorated 
by  both  the  French  and  British 
Armies  ?  and,  as  Jean  is  wont 
to  observe,  glancing  at  his 
own  manly  breast,  there  is 
only  one  man  and  certainly 
no  women  in  the  Commune 
who  has  won  this  superlative 
honour. 

Who  knows  but  that,  as  the 
years  roll  by,  Adrienne  may  not 
acquire  something  of  the  gla- 
mour of  the  Maid  of  Orleans, 
and  by  her  example  inspire 
future  generations  with  the 
spirit  of  her  own  burning 
patriotism. 


1921.] 


135 


MUSINGS  WITHOUT  METHOD. 

DEMOCRACY — A  HISTORY  OF  FAILURE — THE  AVERAQE  MAN FRAUD 

BETTER    THAN    FORCE  ! — A    TREATY    "  FOR    THE    ADVANCEMENT    OF 
HUMANITY  " — DR   M'CORTON's    GRIP   ON    THE   VATICAN. 


THERE  was  a  time,  not  far 
distant,  when  Democracy  was 
the  subject  of  pious  ejacula- 
tions and  dithyrambic  odes. 
They  who  sang  its  praises  stood 
with  bowed  heads  and  cast 
their  eyes  upon  the  earth.  The 
place  of  its  honouring,  wher- 
ever it  was,  seemed  holy  ground. 
The  demagogue,  who  praised 
the  system  under  which  he 
throve,  was  endued  with  piety 
as  with  a  garment.  Devoutly 
he  offered  up  prayers  to  his 
Majesty  the  People.  Hear  what 
Mr  Bancroft  said  about  Democ- 
racy :  "  The  change  which 
Divine  wisdom  ordained,  and 
which  no  human  policy  or 
force  could  hold  back,  pro- 
ceeded as  uniformly  and  majes- 
tically as  the  laws  of  being, 
and  was  as  certain  as  the 
decrees  of  eternity."  These 
are  loud  words  to  use  of  a 
human  institution,  which  has 
no  solid  foundation  in  sense 
or  experience,  and  which  has 
never  yet  been  known  to  sur- 
vive the  shocks  of  time  and 
change. 

It  was  Sir  Henry  Maine  who 
first  administered  a  cold  douche 
to  the  ardour  of  thoughtless 
enthusiasts.  For  him  Democ- 
racy was,  as  it  should  be  for 
everybody,  a  form  of  govern- 
ment, no  more  and  no  less — 
a  form  whose  value  must  be 
tested  by  results.  Unfortu- 
nately the  wisdom  of  Sir  Henry 
Maine  has  not  exercised  the 
influence  which  it  deserved  to 


exercise,  at  least  upon  poli- 
ticians. The  gentlemen  who 
aspire  to  govern  us  still  repeat 
the  platitudes  of  Mr  Bancroft 
with  an  unctuous  flattery.  Vis- 
count Bryce,  for  instance,  who 
has  held  high  office  at  home 
and  abroad,  and  who  has  seen 
Democracy  at  work  in  many 
parts  of  the  world,  cannot  dis- 
engage his  mind  wholly  from 
an  ancient  and  mischievous 
superstition.  In  his  interesting 
study  of  '  Modern  Democra- 
cies,' he  writes  with  a  fervour 
which  it  is  not  easy  for  us  to 
appreciate,  and  which  elsewhere 
in  his  work  he  does  not  himself 
justify.  He  finds  in  the  will  of 
the  People  a  sort  of  divine 
quality,  a  force  not  only  irre- 
sistible but  unpredictable,  a 
force  with  the  sacredness  of  an 
oracle  !  And  yet  he  has  list- 
ened to  the  creaking  of  the 
political  machine  !  "  The  old 
saying,  Vox  populi,  vox  Dei," 
he  writes  in  an  impassioned 
paragraph,  "  was  meant  to  con- 
vey that  when  the  People 
speaks,  it  speaks  by  that  will 
of  the  Higher  Powers  which 
men  cannot  explain  but  are 
forced  to  obey."  We  thought 
that  the  People  spoke  when  a 
cunning  Minister  deemed  it 
prudent,  or  a  beaten  Minister 
was  compelled,  to  ask  for  a 
dissolution  of  Parliament.  For 
Lord  Bryce,  however,  the  voice 
of  the  People  is  effectively  the 
voice  of  God.  "  This  kind  of 
feeling,"  he  says,  "  seems 


136 


Musings  without  Method. 


[July 


grounded,  consciously  or  un- 
consciously, on  an  assumption 
that  the  People  cannot  go 
wrong.  Wisdom  must  dwell 
in  it  because  it  includes  all  the 
wisdom  there  is  in  a  nation, 
and  justice  must  dwell  in  it 
because  it  includes  all  there  is 
of  justice ;  and  justice  must 
be  present  even  more  certainly 
than  wisdom,  because  the  in- 
justice and  selfishness  of  in- 
dividuals and  groups,  each  of 
which  has  its  own  conflicting 
interests,  will  be  swallowed  up 
in  the  justice  which  is  the 
common  interest  of  all.  More- 
over, man  is  naturally  prone 
to  worship  Power.  That  is  an 
impulse  which  underlies  all 
religion.  To-day  the  people 
are  the  ultimate  source  of 
Power.  Their  will,  be  it  wise 
or  unwise,  must  prevail."  Had 
such  words  as  these  been  written 
sixty  years  ago  in  a  simple  age 
of  faith,  they  might  have  passed 
unnoticed.  That  Lord  Bryce 
should  be  awed  to-day  by 
"  something  mystical  in  the 
conception  of  the  People's  Will 
and  the  People's  power,"  that 
he  should  substitute  for  the 
Divine  Eight  of  the  King  the 
overriding  majesty  of  the  Peo- 
ple, makes  us  rub  our  eyes  in 
wonderment.  Here  is  a  pro- 
found political  philosopher  re- 
iterating the  old  creed  of  De- 
mocracy at  the  very  moment 
when  the  old  creed  is  worn  out, 
when,  in  a  world  of  rebellion 
and  reaction,  the  ballot-box  is 
flouted  as  a  mere  obstacle  to 
direct  action. 

When  we  turn  from  rhetoric 
to  plain  facts,  the  change  of 
purpose  and  atmosphere  is  evi- 
dent. Contrast  the  two  utter- 


ances of  Lord  Bryce  which 
follow,  and  you  can  hardly 
believe  that  he  is  talking  about 
the  same  subject.  Here  is  one 
side  of  the  medal :  "  It  is  this 
conception  of  a  happier  life  for 
all,  coupled  with  a  mystic  faith 
in  the  People,  that  great  multi- 
tude through  whom  speaks  the 
Voice  of  the  Almighty  Power 
that  makes  for  righteousness 
— it  is  this  that  constitutes  the 
vital  impulse  of  democracy." 
Here  is  the  other  side  :  "  The 
word  democracy  has  been  used 
ever  since  the  time  of  Hero- 
dotus to  denote  that  form  of 
government  in  which  the  ruling 
power  of  a  State  is  legally 
vested,  not  in  any  particular 
class  or  classes,  but  in  the 
members  of  a  community  as 
a  whole.  This  means,  in  com- 
munities which  act  by  voting, 
that  rule  belongs  to  the  ma- 
jority." There  is,  indeed,  a 
wide  difference  between  "  that 
great  multitude  through  whom 
speaks  the  Voice  of  the  Al- 
mighty Power,"  &c.,  &c.,  and 
the  odd  man  who  triumphs  at 
the  polling-booth.  With  the 
mystic  multitude,  a  mere  crea- 
tion of  rhetoric,  we  cannot 
argue.  We  may  make  some 
attempt  to  understand  the 
meaning  and  the  purpose  of 
the  ballot-box. 

Now  Democracy  rests  on 
many  wide  and  reckless  as- 
sumptions. The  champions  of 
the  system  assume,  to  begin 
with,  that  there  is  something 
sacred  in  a  majority.  As  the 
People  is  never  unanimous,  the 
voice  of  the  majority  is  gladly 
welcomed  as  the  voice  of  God. 
It  would  be  more  wisely  logical 
if  we  accepted  the  voice  of  the 


1921.] 


The  Will  of  the  People. 


137 


minority  as  divinely  inspired. 
There  is  no  sanctity  in  numbers, 
and  in  every  other  branch  of 
energy  than  politics  popularity 
is  of  itself  no  sign  of  excellence. 
We  do  not  hail  as  a  man  of 
genius  the  novelist  whose  work 
has  the  widest  circulation 
among  the  reading  public.  The 
picture  of  the  year  attracts 
thousands  of  enthusiasts  for 
the  very  quality  which  would 
persuade  the  artist  to  condemn 
it.  It  is  only  the  manager  who 
would  judge  a  play  merely  by 
the  amount  of  the  money  re- 
ceived at  the  box-office.  Sol- 
diers and  sailors  are  promoted 
and  decorated  for  services  ren- 
dered to  their  country.  Poli- 
ticians are  sent  to  the  House  of 
Commons  by  a  system  of  count- 
ing heads,  and  they  alone  are 
content  with  a  success  which 
has  little  or  nothing  to  do  with 
merit,  and  for  this  very  reason, 
perhaps,  they  insist  that  the 
rabble  which  returns  them  is 
the  direct  and  mystical  inter- 
mediary of  an  all-wise  Provi- 
dence. 

A  second  assumption  is  that 
the  People  wishes  for  the  wel- 
fare, not  of  a  class,  but  of  the 
whole  community.  That,  in- 
deed, appears  to  be  Lord 
Bryce's  opinion  —  an  opinion 
which  is  not  supported  by  ex- 
perience. What  "  the  People  " 
means  precisely  is  uncertain  ; 
but  there  has  rarely  been  a 
majority  which  cared  for  any- 
thing else  than  the  advantage 
of  itself  and  its  friends.  The 
spoils  go  to  the  victors  in 
politics  as  in  warfare,  and  it 
is  the  doctrine  of  the  good 
democrat  that  minorities  must 
suffer.  They  must  expect  neither 


pity  nor  justice  at  the  hands 
of  their  conquerors  ;  they  must 
recognise  that  a  bare  majority 
of  those  who  profess  "  a  mystic 
faith  in  the  People  "  is  far  less 
considerate  of  the  wishes  of 
others  than  the  most  ruthless 
tyrant  recorded  in  history. 

And  when  manifest  injustice 
is  done,  when,  for  instance,  one 
class  pays  the  taxes  and  an- 
other spends  the  money,  it  is 
commonly  said  that  the  will  of 
the  People  is  prevailing.  Here 
is  another  large  assumption. 
In  the  first  place  it  is  but  the 
will  of  a  majority  which  can 
be  said,  even  metaphorically, 
to  prevail.  The  real  thing  that 
prevails  is  the  party  machine 
and  the  leaders  who  handle  it. 
The  voters  cannot  and  do  not 
make  up  their  minds  concern- 
ing questions  of  policy.  They 
are  given  a  few  election  cries, 
which  have  to  serve  them  in- 
stead of  wisdom  and  know- 
ledge. They  listen  to  what 
leaders  and  candidates  tell  them 
with  an  uncritical  wonder,  and 
they  seem  to  care  very  little 
if  what  they  are  told  turns  out 
to  be  false.  In  1918,  what  is 
called  the  will  of  the  People 
accepted  Mr  George's  assur- 
ances that  he  would  turn  the 
pockets  of  the  Germans  inside 
out,  and  would  try  the  Raise" 
for  his  high  crimes  and  mis 
demeanours.  Of  course  he  has 
done  neither  of  these  things, 
and  when  he  next  calls  an 
election  the  failure  of  his  an- 
cient promises  will  be  wholly 
forgotten. 

As  the  voters  do  not  choose 
their  own  election  cries,  as  they 
are  dominated  by  a  few  leaders 
with  a  gift  of  rhetoric,  so  they 


138 


Musings  without  Method. 


[July 


are  not  permitted  to  choose 
their  own  candidates.  Two  or 
three  gentlemen,  sent  down 
from  the  central  offices,  are 
presented  to  them,  and  they 
are  invited  to  pick  and  choose 
their  man.  Maybe  none  is 
acceptable  to  them.  If  that 
be  so,  so  much  the  worse  for 
them.  They  are  in  the  hands 
of  the  caucuses,  and  only  by 
courtesy  may  they  be  called 
free  and  independent  electors. 
And  when  once  the  leaders 
have  duly  folded  their  sheep, 
they  think  their  work  is  done. 
The  sheep  are  safe  from  the 
wolves  of  reaction  for  five  years 
at  least,  and  the  shepherds 
may  say  and  do  in  the  House 
of  Commons  whatever  seems 
good  to  them.  And  this  is 
"  the  irresistible  and  unpre- 
dictable force  "  which  has  the 
sacredness  of  an  oracle  ! 

When  the  House  of  Com- 
mons meets,  the  People  is  very 
soon  forgotten.  If  it  have 
given  its  representatives  a 
mandate — which  is  unlikely,  as 
opinions  are  generally  forced 
upon  it  from  outside — its  rep- 
resentatives are  speedily  forget- 
ful, or  they  turn  gladly  to 
measures  on  which  the  voters 
have  never  been  consulted  at 
all.  For  instance,  the  People, 
whose  voice  we  are  told  is  the 
voice  of  God,  was  made  com- 
pletely vocal  in  England  only 
three  years  ago.  "  The  Act  of 
1918,"  says  Lord  Bryce,  "  was 
passed  during  the  Great  War 
by  a  Coalition  Ministry  with 
scarcely  any  opposition,  and 
little  noticed  by  the  people, 
whose  thoughts  were  concen- 
trated on  the  battle  -  front. 
Never  was  a  momentous  change 


made  so  quietly."  In  other 
words,  universal  suffrage  was 
forced  upon  a  nation  which 
made  no  demand  for  it  by  a 
Coalition,  led  by  an  autocratic 
Minister.  There  was  no  ques- 
tion of  a  mandate,  for  the 
Eeform  Bill  was  not  asked  for. 
It  was  not  the  will  of  the  People 
which  prevailed,  for  the  People 
was  not  consulted.  The  Fran- 
chise Bill  was  imposed  upon  a 
preoccupied  and  docile  nation 
by  an  act  of  pure  tyranny,  and 
it  created  that  mystical  force, 
having  the  sacredness  of  an 
oracle,  of  which  we  have  heard 
far  too  much.  Is  it  all  mere 
hypocrisy  f 

The  truth  is  that  Democracy 
in  one  sense  is  a  confession 
of  failure.  Governments  shift 
the  whole  responsibility  upon 
the  ballot-box.  They  risk  the 
polling-booth,  as  the  Athenians 
risked  the  drawing  of  lots,  and 
between  the  two  systems  there 
is  little  to  choose.  And  thus, 
having  put  off  the  burden  of 
responsibility,  they  pretend 
that  there  is  a  divine  element 
in  numbers,  and  speak  of  the 
People,  blasphemously,  as  de- 
vout men  might  speak  of  the 
object  of  their  worship.  And 
as  we  read  Lord  Bryce's  book, 
which  extols  theoretic  Democ- 
racy in  terms  which  outstrip 
Mr  Bancroft's  rhetorical  en- 
thusiasm, and  which  at  the 
same  time  is  forced  to  confess 
that  Democracy  has  fallen  far 
short  of  its  pretensions,  we  feel 
that  we  are  assisting  at  the 
obsequies  of  a  bad,  pretentious 
system. 

The  worst  is  that,  in  order 
to  prop  up  the  tottering  figure 
of  Democracy,  it  is  necessary  to 


1921.] 


The  Average  Man. 


139 


invent  qualities  which  do  not 
exist,  and  to  frame  false  defi- 
nitions. If  we  live  under  a 
Democracy,  we  must  rejoice, 
so  we  are  told,  in  liberty  and 
equality.  But  no  sooner  do 
philosophers  speak  of  Democ- 
racy than  they  twist  the  word 
"  liberty "  into  a  false  and 
narrow  meaning.  They  con- 
fuse it  with  the  franchise.  But 
liberty  has  nothing  to  do  with 
a  ballot-box,  since  if  the  ballot- 
box  is  amenable  to  the  radical 
caucus,  it  may  condemn  many 
harmless  men  and  women  to 
a  vast  deal  of  discomfort.  No  : 
liberty,  if  it  be  worth  having, 
is  a  gift  of  character,  a  gift 
which  helps  us  to  live,  to  think, 
to  act  as  we  deem  right.  It  has 
no  touch  with  politics  ;  it  is 
not  in  any  sense  concerned  with 
majorities ;  and  it  will  be 
found  only  by  those  who,  in 
forgetfulness  of  machines  and 
caucuses,  are  true  to  their 
own  talent  and  their  own 
temper. 

And  then,  if  you  are  a  true 
democrat,  you  are  asked  to  put 
a  pious  faith  in  the  doctrine 
of  equality,  for  no  better  reason 
than  because  you  are  equal  to 
your  neighbour  in  the  polling- 
booth,  if  only  you  know  how 
to  mark  your  voting  paper. 
But  outside  the  polling-booth 
there  is  no  such  thing  as 
equality.  Even  if  we  were  all 
equal  at  birth — a  monstrous 
assumption  —  our  inequalities 
assert  themselves  before  we  are 
out  of  swaddling  clothes,  and 
every  day  of  our  lives  increases 
the  differences  of  strength  and 
talent  which  exist  between  us. 
Again,  if  you  are  a  democrat, 
you  are  invited  to  believe  in 


the  "Average  Man,"  a  ridicu- 
lous abstraction,  which  is  sup- 
posed in  the  last  resort  to 
save  us  all.  Lord  Bryce  de- 
fines him  in  flattering  terms. 
"  The  Average  Man,"  he  writes, 
"  to  whom  we  recur  when  we 
talk  of  the  People  is  in  most 
countries  neither  captivated  by 
theories  nor  swept  off  his  feet 
by  passion.  If  he  does  not,  as 
some  have  fancied,  become  by 
the  grant  of  citizenship  fit  for 
the  functions  of  citizenship,  he 
is  usually  raised  to  a  higher 
level  by  the  sense  of  a  duty 
thrown  on  him,  and  has  a 
sense  of  justice  and  fairness 
sometimes  wanting  in  members 
of  a  privileged  class.  He  may 
have  limited  knowledge  and 
no  initiative,  yet  be  able  to 
form,  especially  if  he  has  a 
chance  of  seeing  them  at  close 
quarters,  a  shrewd  judgment  of 
men.  His  instincts  are  gener- 
ally sound,  nor  is  he  insensible 
to  high  ideals,  when  presented 
to  him  in  a  form  which  makes 
them  plain  to  him."  The 
Average  Man,  thus  defined, 
seems  the  mere  figment  of  a 
democrat's  brain.  His  quali- 
ties are  negative,  and  disas- 
trous would  be  the  fate  of  a 
country  which  he  governed. 
Nor  can  we  accept  Lord  Bryce's 
ingenious  corollary  that  "  there 
is  a  sense  in  which  the  People 
are  wiser  than  the  wisest  person 
or  group."  This  is  merely  a 
variant  of  "  the  mystic  faith 
in  the  People,  through  whom 
speaks  the  voice  of  the  Al- 
mighty Power,"  and  it  finds 
no  warrant  in  history  or  ex- 
perience. 

A  simple  unquestioning  faith 
in  the  wisdom  of  the  untaught, 


140 


Musings  without  Method. 


[July 


unknowing  man  has,  in  truth, 
been  the  cause  of  much  con- 
fusion and  even  of  hypocrisy. 
They  who  hold  it  appear  to 
believe  that  it  is  not  the  busi- 
ness of  a  Government  to  govern 
well,  but  to  give  effect  to  the 
will  of  the  people.  They  be- 
lieve also  that  a  man  needs 
no  training  in  the  art  of 
politics,  though  they  are  forced 
to  acknowledge  that  in  any 
other  craft,  of  far  less  import 
than  politics,  the  opinion  of 
the  untrained  average  man 
may  safely  be  neglected.  At 
the  same  time,  not  even  Lord 
Bryce  is  bold  enough  to  declare 
that  Democracy  has  been  a 
success  in  the  modern  world. 
He  has  sketched  with  fairness 
and  lucidity  the  history  of 
several  famous  democracies,  and 
in  spite  of  himself  his  history 
is  a  history  of  failure.  The 
best  that  he  can  say  of  the 
Spanish-American  Eepublics  is 
that  in  them  "  power  has 
passed  peaceably  from  one  pre- 
sident to  another.  The  General 
is  being  replaced  by  the  Doctor 
of  Laws ;  and  the  man  of  law, 
even  if  he  be  tricky,  is  less 
dangerous  than  the  man  of 
the  sword.  Fraud  is  better 
than  force."  Is  it  ? 

Nor  has  Democracy  brought 
to  France  the  many  blessings 
which  enthusiasts  expected  of 
it.  Lord  Bryce  finds  in  the 
French  Eepublic  corruption, 
illicit  patronage,  loss  of  civil 
liberty,  intolerance  in  religious 
matters,  class-hatreds,  and  a 
proneness  to  insurrection.  It 
could  hardly  fare  worse  under 
a  despotic  monarch,  and  its 
condition  certainly  does  not 
justify  all  the  paeans  which 


have  been  sung  to  the  People, 
as  the  vicegerent  of  God  upon 
earth.  Canada,  again,  does  not 
justify  in  Lord  Bryce's  eyes 
the  eulogy  which  he  has  pro- 
nounced upon  theoretic  De- 
mocracy. There  is  little  of 
"  the  sacredness  of  an  oracle  " 
in  Canadian  politics.  Bribery 
is  common,  and  "  few  elections 
—  so  it  is  believed  —  would 
stand  if  either  party  pressed 
the  law  against  its  opponents." 
And  this  is  not  all :  there  is 
corruption  among  legislators, 
"  probably  less  than  is  alleged, 
but  doubtless  more  than  is 
ever  proved."  Even  Ministers 
have  not  always  been  above 
suspicion,  and  "  there  is,  as 
in  all  democratic  countries, 
lavish  expenditure  and  waste." 
Where,  then,  is  the  will  of  the 
People  ?  Is  it  asleep,  perchance, 
or  does  it,  in  fact,  delight  in 
corruption  and  bribery,  as  it 
delights  in  jobbery  and  waste  ? 
Not  a  pleasing  prospect  to 
put  before  the  world,  and  a 
sorry  justification  for  all  the 
flattery  which  has  been  poured 
out  upon  His  Majesty  the 
People. 

But  it  is  against  the  United 
States  that  Lord  Bryce  has 
drawn  the  heaviest  indictment. 
Thus  he  sums  up  the  defects 
which  reveal  themselves  in 
the  popular  Government  of 
America  : — 

"  (1)  State  legislatures  do  not 
enjoy  the  confidence  of  the 
people.  .  .  .  Congress  main- 
tains a  higher  level,  yet  one 
below  that  to  be  expected  in 
a  nation  proud  of  its  institu- 
tions as  a  whole. 

"  (2)  The  Civil  Service  is 
not  yet  equal  to  the  tasks 


1921.] 


The  Failure  of  Democracy. 


141 


which  the  extension  of  the 
functions  of  government  is  im- 
posing upon  it. 

"  (3)  The  State  Judiciary  is, 
in  the  large  majority  of  the 
States,  inferior  in  quality  to 
the  better  part  of  the  Bar 
that  practises  before  it,  and 
has  in  some  few  States  ceased 
to  be  respected. 

"  (4)  The  administration  of 
criminal  justice  is  slow,  un- 
certain, and  in  many  States 
so  ineffective  that  offenders 
constantly  escape  punishment." 
And  so  on,  and  so  on.  In  the 
greatest  Democracy  in  the  world 
personal  rights  are  inadequately 
secured ;  the  government  of 
cities  has  been  incompetent, 
wasteful,  and  corrupt ;  the 
power  of  wealth  to  influence 
both  legislatures  has  been  for- 
midable ;  and  as  you  read 
Lord  Bryce's  pages  of  practical 
exposition,  you  cannot  but 
wonder  at  the  many  tributes 
he  has  paid  in  his  opening 
chapters  to  a  system  of  govern- 
ment which,  as  Sir  Henry 
Maine  has  said,  must  be  judged 
by  its  results,  and  which  Lord 
Bryce  has  weighed  in  the  bal- 
ance all  the  world  over,  and 
(as  it  seems  to  us)  found  every- 
where wanting.  Doubtless 
Lord  Bryce  likes  Democracy 
better  in  theory  than  in  prac- 
tice, and  has  not  a  very  lofty 
ideal  of  his  "  irresistible  but 
unpredictable  force."  In  a 
passage  wherein  he  sums  up 
the  failure  of  Australian  De- 
mocracy, he  seems  to  abandon 
his  case  altogether.  "It  is 
hard,"  says  he,  "  to  keep  popu- 
lar government  truly  popular, 
for  power  seems  inevitably  to 
slip  back  into  the  hands  of  the 


few,  however  strictly  constitu- 
tional may  be  the  forms.  Aus- 
tralia has  got  no  nearer  than 
has  any  other  country  to  solv- 
ing the  problem  of  government 
by  the  whole  people  with  fair- 
ness to  the  whole  people,  but 
has  given  one  more  proof  of 
what  needed  no  proving,  that 
a  class  dominant  as  a  class  will 
always  govern  in  its  own  in- 
terest." Poor  Australia  !  Poor 
Democracy ! 

And  as  Democracy  has  failed 
us,  so  we  have  gone  on  extend- 
ing its  scope,  until  there  is  no 
more  to  be  done  for  it.  The 
Act  of  1918,  unasked  for  and 
unexpected,  practically  gave 
the  vote  to  every  man  and 
every  woman  in  the  kingdom. 
The  natural  result  might  have 
been  foreseen.  So  long  as 
something  remained  to  strive 
for,  so  long  as  one  class  was 
left  "unenfranchised,"  Democ- 
racy seemed  a  thing  of  great 
importance.  There  were  still 
some  deemed  unworthy  to  drop 
a  marked  paper  into  a  ballot- 
box,  and  they  and  their  friends 
were  bound  to  respect  an  in- 
stitution which  they  dimly  un- 
derstood and  from  which  they 
were  rigorously  excluded.  But 
when  once  the  suffrage  was 
made  universal,  the  reverence 
which  had  been  professed  for 
Democracy  speedily  grew  less. 
Of  what  value,  asked  the  voter, 
is  a  privilege  which  has  been 
conceded  to  all  ?  That  which 
is  of  common  enjoyment  seldom 
seems  worth  enjoying,  and  the 
direct  inevitable  consequence 
of  universal  suffrage  has  been 
to  bring  Democracy  and  its 
representative  House  into  dis- 
credit. The  voice  of  the  People, 


142 


Musings  without  Method. 


[July 


which  we  used  to  be  told  was 
the  voice  of  God,  is  now  but 
intermittently  raised.  We  hear 
that  at  contested  elections  not 
more  than  sixty  per  cent  of  the 
People's  will  is  expressed.  There 
are  evident  signs  that  the 
voters  who  once  could  do  no 
wrong  are  bored  with  the  rou- 
tine of  politics  ;  and  assuredly 
it  looks  as  though  the  force 
which  has  (or  had)  the  sacred- 
ness  of  an  oracle  were  fast 
being  exhausted. 

Meanwhile  the  Democracy, 
whose  praise  has  been  on  the 
lips  of  thousands,  is  either 
explained  away  or  has  been 
already  replaced  by  another 
system.  In  England  a  silent 
revolution  has  been  made  by 
cunning  Ministers,  who  while 
they  applaud  the  Democracy, 
take  care  that  the  Democracy 
shall  not  hamper  them. 

If  we  turn  our  eyes  to  reality, 
we  may  look  upon  Lord  Bryce's 
book  as  an  archasological  trea- 
tise. The  shape  of  the  Democ- 
racy is  there  clearly  denned,  but 
if  it  ever  possessed  a  soul  at  all, 
its  soul  was  long  since  severed 
from  its  bodily  shape.  The 
same  words  of  flattery,  more- 
over, are  spoken  still  in  the 
same  voice,  but  they  are  with- 
out meaning,  as  speakers  and 
hearers  alike  know ;  and  though 
they  will  be  repeated  as  loudly 
as  possible  when  the  next 
General  Election  is  arranged, 
they  will  be  used  perfunc- 
torily after  the  votes  are 
counted,  and  the  twin-machine 
of  the  Coalition  has  done  its 
work.  Democracy,  in  truth,  is 
dead  or  dying,  nor  should  we 
deplore  its  demise,  if  the  auto- 
crats, who  are  learning  to  do 


without  it,  had  a  better  right 
to  the  confidence  of  wise  men. 

On  the  one  hand,  Mr  Lloyd 
George  and  his  friends,  proud 
in  the  working  of  the  machines, 
of  which  they  are  the  masters ; 
on  the  other  hand,  the  "  re- 
presentatives "  of  Labour,  who 
believe  in  what  they  call  "  di- 
rect action,"  have  made  them- 
selves independent  of  the  demo- 
cratic principle.  Each  of  these 
parties,  for  reasons  of  self- 
interest,  declines  to  accept  or 
to  interpret  the  will  of  the 
people.  The  Coalition,  which 
has  made  the  Tory  party  wholly 
innocuous  by  the  simple  method 
of  offering  places  to  a  few  se- 
lected Tories,  and  has  kept  the 
Liberals  in  good  humour  by 
telling  them  that  it  stands  be- 
tween them  and  reaction,  can 
afford  to  neglect  that  "  great 
multitude  through  whom  speaks 
the  voice  of  the  Almighty 
Power  that  makes  for  righteous- 
ness." And  the  People  itself, 
now  fully  enfranchised,  laughed 
at  the  vote  as  soon  as  ever  the 
supreme  privilege  was  bestowed 
upon  it.  It  refuses  to  attempt 
to  gain  its  ends  by  the  demo- 
cratic method  of  Parliamentary 
action.  That  is  far  too  slow  to 
satisfy  its  ardent  temperament. 
So  it  threatens  to  hold  up  all 
the  activities  of  the  country, 
if  it  be  not  given  instantly 
what  it  asks,  and  cheerfully 
substitutes  a  system  of  poli- 
tical blackmail  for  the  tardy 
method  of  the  ballot-box. 

Such  is  the  end  of  all  over- 
praised institutions.  They  be- 
come ridiculous  and  effete. 
"  Democratic,"  says  Lord 
Bryce,  is  a  term  of  praise. 
We  doubt  whether,  outside 


1921.]  Treaty  for  the  Advancement  of  Humanity. 


143 


the  United  States,  where  "  de- 
mocratic "  has  become  a  kind 
of  expletive,  and  where  they 
talk  of  a  "  democratic  king  " — 
a  contradiction  in  terms — the 
word  can  evoke  anything  else 
than  a  smile.  And  Democracy, 
as  an  institution,  is  dying  in 
Great  Britain  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  we  are  busied  in 
setting  up  new  democracies  in 
countries  which  neither  desire 
nor  understand  them.  If  you 
want  a  lesson  in  democratic 
method,  remember  the  fate  of 
Mr  Fisher's  Education  Bill. 
It  was  brought  in  without 
any  mandate  from  the  elec- 
torate, and  was  passed  to 
a  general  chorus  of  praise. 
Mr  Fisher  was  said  by  an 
excited  archbishop  to  have  but 
one  fault — that  all  men  spoke 
well  of  him.  And  his  Act  of 
Parliament  is  already  a  dead 
letter.  Democracy,  in  brief, 
has  been  tried  in  the  furnace 
of  experience,  and  is  found 
wanting.  What  shape  the  re- 
action against  it  will  take  it  is 
hard  to  divine.  In  England 
our  institutions  have  not  been 
made :  they  have  grown ;  and 
it  is  possible  that  we  may  keep 
the  outward  form  of  Democracy 
and  turn  it  back  to  what  it 
was  before  1906 — a  concealed 
oligarchy.  We  are  tired  of  the 
cant  of  the  people.  We  have 
had  enough  of  the  autocracy 
of  one  man,  who,  having  duped 
the  electors  and  taken  hold  of 
both  the  machines,  hopes  that 
he  will  remain  tyrant  for  life 
of  Great  Britain.  And  we  look 
forward  to  the  day  when  the 
Government  of  the  country 
will  be  placed  in  the  hands  of 
wise  and  honourable  men,  who 


will  set  the  public  safety  above 
their  own  advantage,  and  will 
not  plead  the  sanctity  of  the 
People's  will  as  an  excuse  for 
recklessness  and  misrule. 

Meanwhile  the  Irish  Democ- 
racy goes  gaily  down  the  road 
of  outrage  and  assassination. 
Yet  not  even  Mr  Asquith,  we 
imagine,  or  that  famous  Irish- 
man who  not  long  ago  de- 
scribed murder  as  "a  mystic 
expression  of  nationality,"  will 
take  much  pleasure  in  the 
treaty  "  for  the  advancement 
of  humanity  "  which  has  been 
made  between  Sinn  Fein  and 
the  Eussian  Soviet  Eepublic. 
The  document  is  of  the  highest 
interest,  and  deserves  to  be 
known  as  widely  as  possible. 
The  two  "  Governments,"  nat- 
urally in  sympathy  the  one 
with  the  other,  pledge  them- 
selves to  promote  each  the 
recognition  of  the  sovereignty 
of  the  other  by  the  nations  of 
the  world.  They  will  exert 
pressure  on  any  nation,  or- 
ganisation, or  group  of  people 
with  whom  it  has  influence 
to  prevent  the  shipment  of 
arms,  munitions,  and  military 
supplies  intended  for  use  against 
one  another's  republic.  And 
that  eminently  religious  body, 
the  Government  of  the  Eussian 
Soviet  Eepublic,  is  pleased  to 
"  accord  to  all  religious  de- 
nominations represented  in  the 
Eepublic  of  Ireland  every  right 
accorded  to  religious  sects  by 
the  Eussian  Constitution,  and 
entrusts  to  the  accredited  re- 
presentative of  the  Eepublic 
of  Ireland  in  Eussia  the  inter- 
ests of  the  Eoman  Catholic 
Church  within  the  territory 
of  the  Eussian  Socialist  Federal 


144 


Musings  without  Method. 


[July  1921. 


Soviet  Eepublic."  "  This,"  as 
Dr  M'Corton,  the  Irish  repre- 
sentative in  Eussia,  says,  with 
a  grim  humour,  "  gives  us  a 
good  grip  on  the  Vatican,  and 
makes  them  less  impression- 
able by  British  agents.  If  the 
British  threaten  to  squeeze,  in 
future  we  can  threaten  too. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell 
on  this.  I  don't  see  how  it 
can  react  against  us  in  the 
North  or  elsewhere ;  but  that 
is  the  sole  danger.  The  advan- 
tages more  than  counteract 
the  vistas."  He  is  a  pleasant 
gentleman,  Dr  M'Corton,  and 
he  intends  to  ask  the  Eussian 
Soviet  for  at  least  50,000  rifles 
to  be  sent  to  Ireland.  But 
we  should  like  to  know  what 
the  Holy  Father  thinks  of  his 
designs  upon  the  Eoman  Cath- 
olic Church  in  Eussia. 

Then  there  follow  certain 
commercial  clauses,  which  the 
ingenuous  Dr  M'Corton  says 
will  make  it  possible  to  organise 
"  a  corporation  for  importing 
stuff."  "  It  should  be  directly 
or  indirectly  governmental," 
thinks  he,  "as  we  can,  under 
it,  control  prices  and  make  it 
a  source  of  revenue.  For  in- 
stance, we  could  control  the 
flax  of  the  world,  or  at  least 
get  our  teeth  well  into  it." 
Dr  M'Corton  is  plainly  hopeful 
if  he  thinks  that  he  will  control 
the  flax  of  the  world  ;  hopeful 
is  he  also  when  he  discusses 
the  question  of  hostages. 
"  That  is,"  he  writes,  "  if  Eng- 
land murders  any  of  our  sol- 
diers in  or  out  of  prison,  they 
will  agree  to  execute  a  Britisher 


as  a  reprisal.  They  have  them. 
We  suggest  this,  but  I'm  not 
sure."  Nor  are  we  sure.  We 
can  only  congratulate  Dr  M'Cor- 
ton on  his  amiable  wish  and 
his  intelligent  interpretation  of 
"  murder." 

But  the  two  Eepublics  are 
at  their  best  when  they  explain 
their  amiable  intentions.  "  The 
avowed  purpose  " — thus  runs 
the  precious  document — "  of 
the  contracting  parties  being 
to  end  imperialistic  exploita- 
tion, to  ensure  the  freedom  of 
the  world's  highways,  to  bring 
about  universal  disarmament, 
to  make  obligatory  the  arbitra- 
tion of  all  international  dis- 
putes, and  to  secure  peace  to 
the  peoples  of  the  world,  they 
agree  to  enter  into  a  league 
with  similarly-minded  nations, 
each  nation  to  be  represented 
by  delegates  freely  elected  by 
their  nationals."  It  is  a  happy 
picture  this  of  Soviet  Eussia 
and  the  Irish  "  Eepublic  "  se- 
curing the  peace  of  the  world. 
But  we  cannot  put  much  faith 
in  their  proposed  league. 
Where,  indeed,  will  they  dis- 
cover "  nations  similarly 
minded  "  to  themselves  H  And 
the  only  possible  conclusion  is 
that  very  little  harm  will  be 
done  by  Dr  M'Corton  and  his 
friends.  An  alliance  between 
two  such  contracting  parties 
can  only  be  ineffectual ;  and 
did  not  the  tragedy  of  whole- 
sale assassination  hang  over 
them  both,  there  would  be  an 
element  of  comedy  in  this 
monstrous  treaty  for  "  the  ad- 
vancement of  humanity." 


Printed  by  William  Blackwood  and  Sons. 


BLACRWOOD'S   MAGAZINE. 


No.  MCCLXX. 


AUGUST  1921. 


VOL.  CCX. 


AN  ADVENTUEE   WITH  AEABS. 


i. 


THEEE  was  to  be  some  ex- 
citement at  last.  During  the 
seventeen  months  we  had  oc- 
cupied the  camp  at  Samawah 
the  only  diversion  from  the 
monotonous  life  of  the  desert 
had  been  the  arrival  of  a  few 
aeroplanes  which  had  strafed 
a  neighbouring  Sheikh.  On 
the  departure  of  these  angry 
birds  of  the  air,  we  were  left 
alone  with  our  thoughts,  which 
were  often  turned  to  those 
who  sit  in  high  places  and  who 
had  ordered  us,  some  seventeen 
months  previously,  to  leave 
Basrah,  where  we  were  waiting 
enshipment  to  India,  to  sit  on 
the  banks  of  the  Euphrates. 

Our  return  to  the  desert 
had  caused  us  great  disappoint- 
ment, and  our  disappointment 
was  not  lessened  when  we 
found  that  our  stay  was  likely 
to  be  uneventful. 

The  atmosphere  still  ap- 
peared clear  of  trouble,  and 
we  therefore  decided  to  shade 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXX. 


ourselves,  and  commenced 
building  mud  barracks  for  the 
men,  and  improving  our  own 
mud  dwellings  which  we  had 
erected  the  previous  summer. 
This  helped  to  break  the  mo- 
notony, for  it  meant  obtain- 
ing, through  channels  other 
than  official,  roofing  material. 
This,  together  with  the  prom- 
ised visit  of  our  Brigade  Com- 
mander —  quite  an  exciting 
affair  while  it  lasted — was  likely 
to  be  the  Alpha  and  Omega 
of  our  enjoyment  through  the 
trying  months  of  the  summer. 
Now  we  received  a  telegram 
informing  us  that  a  new  Com- 
manding Officer  —  a  cavalry 
man — was  on  his  way  to  join 
us.  Speculation  was  rife.  Our 
Quartermaster  (Lieut.  J.)  had 
visions  of  riding-school  and 
broken  ribs.  Following  the 
receipt  of  this  telegram  came 
a  message  in  code,  and  then 
rumours  concerning  the  strafing 
of  a  Sheikh  who  resided  in  the 

F 


146 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


near  vicinity.  Everybody  im- 
mediately engaged  in  whis- 
pered conversation.  It  was  to 
be  very  "  Hush  Hush  "  ;  al- 
though it  is  probable  that  the 
Sheikh  knew  what  we  were 
going  to  do,  and  when  we  were 
going  to  do  it. 

The  new  Commanding  Officer 
arrived  at  noon  on  a  very 
hot  day  in  June.  On  our  first 
meeting  he  impressed  me 
greatly.  Little  did  I  then 
think  that  he  would  soon  be 
leading  us  through  many  a 
fight,  and  through  the  trying 
days  of  a  siege  lasting  over 
two  months.  My  first  impres- 
sion never  altered ;  and  al- 
though it  is  not  my  intention 
to  enter  into  that  period  in 
this  narrative,  it  would  be 
unfair  to  my  conscience  if  I 
passed  on  without  saying  that 
we  owe  to  this  very  gallant 
officer  a  debt  which  we  can 
never  repay. 

Eumours  regarding  the  strafe 
of  the  Sheikh  had  now  formed 
themselves  into  orders.  It  was 
in  the  early  morning  of  1st  July 
that  I  received  orders  to  pro- 
ceed to  Diwaniyeh,  a  mili- 
tary camp  some  hundred  miles 
north,  from  whence  I  was  to 
guide  the  guns  which  were  to 
come  into  action  at  Imam 
Abdullah  against  the  Sheikh. 
Travelling  in  the  hot  season 
on  Mesopotamian  railways  is 
amusing  to  the  new  -  comer, 
but  a  very  trying  experience 
to  others.  I,  however,  found 
a  pleasant  companion  in  Major 
X.,  who  was  on  his  way  to 
Baghdad.  As  we  passed  over 
the  bridge  which  spans  the 


Euphrates  at  Imam  Abdullah, 
I  took  a  careful  note  of  the 
surroundings  and  the  residence 
of  the  Sheikh,  and  wondered 
what  shape  it  would  take  on 
to  itself  after  our  operations. 
The  train  halted  at  Eumait- 
hah,  and  as  we  were  not 
leaving  for  fifteen  minutes,  I 
rushed  off  to  visit  my  friend 
(Lieut.  Ht.)  the  A.P.O.  To 
my  surprise  Lieut.  Ht.  received 
me  in  great  agitation.  I  learnt 
that  two  of  his  Arab  guard  had 
been  shot,  and  that  an  impor- 
tant prisoner  had  escaped. 
Troops  of  my  regiment  were 
on  their  way  to  reinforce  the 
Arab  guard,  and  with  that 
news  I  made  my  way  back 
to  the  train,  expecting  that 
on  my  return  from  Diwaniyeh, 
and  after  the  strafing  of  the 
Sheikh,  I  should  spend  the 
remainder  of  the  hot  weather 
at  Eumaithah,  as  I  had  com- 
manded the  garrison  there  the 
previous  summer.  I  related 
the  affair  to  my  travelling 
companion,  and  on  our  on- 
ward journey  we  discussed  the 
chances  of  war  with  the  Arabs. 
That  this  was  but  a  local  affair 
we  had  no  doubt.  All  the 
Arabs  appeared  occupied  in 
their  usual  vocations,  and  those 
whom  I  had  passed  appeared 
very  respectful  with  their 
salaams. 

I  arrived  at  Diwaniyeh  just 
after  midday,  and  as  a  sand- 
storm, the  terror  of  the  desert, 
was  rising,  I  quickly  made  my 
way  to  the  fort.  The  guns 
were  not  due  to  arrive  until 
night,  so  I  settled  myself  down 
with  Lieut.  J.,  who  was  com- 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


147 


manding  a  detachment  of  the 
regiment.  I  found  Lieut.  J. 
very  disappointed  in  not  being 
able  to  take  part  in  our  forth- 
coming show.  (Two  days  later 
he  proceeded  with  his  detach- 
ment to  Eumaithah,  and  was 
one  of  the  very  gallant  garrison 
which  kept  our  Flag  flying 
through  that  terrible  siege.) 
I  had  just  emerged  from  my 
tub  when  a  priority  telegram 
was  handed  to  me.  It  read — 
"  Eeturn  to  Headquarters  im- 
mediately." I  was  very  dis- 
appointed, for  I  gathered  that 
this  meant  that  there  would  be 
no  strafe. 

I  returned  to  the  station, 
where  I  was  met  by  a  pleasant 
surprise  in  the  shape  of  Major 
L.  of  the  Eailway  Department, 
who  intended  to  travel  to 
Samawah  in  a  special  train. 
I  was  somewhat  shy  at  ap- 
proaching him,  for,  some  days 
previously,  I  had  obtained, 
unofficially,  several  pieces  of 
timber  from  his  department, 
and  he  was  still  on  the  scent. 
However,  he  was  a  good  sports- 
man ;  and  although  he  con- 
sidered me  guilty,  he  offered 
to  take  me  in  his  special  train. 
We  reached  Eumaithah  just 
after  midnight,  and  were  met 
by  Lieut.  Hly.  of  the  regiment, 
who  had  been  sent  up  earlier 
in  the  day  with  two  platoons. 
Lieut.  Hly.  told  us  that  tele- 
graphic communication  with 
Samawah  was  impossible,  and 
he  was  anxious  to  patrol  the 
railway  line  with  a  platoon. 
Major  L.  soon  had  a  train 
together,  and  within  a  few 
minutes  we  were  steaming  to- 


wards Samawah.  Anticipating 
that  the  railway  line  had  been 
tampered  with,  Lieut.  X.  of 
the  Eailway  Department  tra- 
velled on  a  push  trolly  in 
front  of  the  engine.  We  had 
gone  some  four  miles  when  the 
train  stopped,  and  we  found 
that  several  sleepers  had  been 
taken  from  the  track.  Orders 
were  then  given  for  the  train 
to  return  for  repairing  material 
and  a  working  gang.  We  had 
gone  but  a  few  yards  when  a 
shot  rang  out  in  front  of  the 
engine.  The  train  stopped, 
and  Lieut.  X.,  who  had  tra- 
velled on  the  push  trolly,  re- 
ported that  he  had  shot  an 
Arab  who  had  attempted  to 
stab  him.  Picking  up  Lieut.  X., 
we  again  commenced  our  return 
journey.  As  we  proceeded, 
several  shots  were  fired  at 
us,  and  we  heard  the  cry  to 
war  being  howled  in  the  vil- 
lages near  by. 

Having  loaded  material  and 
entrained  a  working  gang,  we 
again  steamed  out  of  Eumait- 
hah towards  Samawah.  It  was 
now  dawn.  We  found  the  line 
badly  damaged,  but  the  gangs, 
under  the  protection  of  the 
troops  who  guarded  all  the 
flanks,  worked  well,  and  we 
reached  Wahweih  at  nine 
o'clock.  We  now  observed  a 
party  of  Arabs  destroying  the 
track  half  a  mile  ahead.  Lieut. 
Hly.,  who  was  bursting  for  a 
fight,  immediately  advanced 
with  a  Lewis-gun  section,  and 
opened  fire  at  short  range. 
It  was  at  this  moment  that 
the  war  can  be  said  to  have 
commenced.  The  war  which 


148 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


called  for  superhuman  effort 
on  the  part  of  the  British  and 
Indian  soldier,  in  which  an 
enemy  far  deadlier  than  the 
tribesman — the  scorching  heat 
of  the  desert — the  heat  which 
numbs  the  brain  and  melts 
the  marrow  in  the  bones,  and 
turns  the  most  sturdy  into 
animated  pulp  —  had  to  be 
fought.  The  smoke  of  war 
now  broke  into  flame ;  and 
fanned  by  the  wind  of  re- 
ligious fanaticism,  its  confla- 
gration spread  with  lightning 
rapidity,  and  within  a  few 
hours  half  a  million  tribesmen 
had  concentrated  each  one  his 
effort,  in  money,  in  material, 
in  valour  and  in  prayer,  to 
destroy  everything  and  every- 
body belonging  to  the  for- 
eigner and  Infidel.  On  the 
first  burst  of  the  fire  from  the 
Lewis  gun,  red  flags,  as  if  by 
magic,  appeared  in  all  the  sur- 
rounding villages,  and  a  thou- 
sand voices  raised  their  cry  to 
Allah  for  help  to  slay  the  In- 


fidel. Shots  began  to  whizz 
amongst  us,  while  parties  of 
Arabs  worked  along  nullahs 
to  within  short  range  of  the 
train.  One  of  these  parties 
came  in  contact  with  Hly.'s 
men,  and  was  bombed  severely. 
Arabs  were  now  observed  col- 
lecting in  the  rear  of  the 
train,  and  our  only  chance  lay 
in  getting  back  before  they 
could  destroy  the  track  behind 
us.  The  troops  who  were  en- 
gaged with  the  Arabs  were 
reluctant  to  break  off  the  fight 
— a  characteristic  of  the  Mah- 
ratta — for  they  were  account- 
ing for  many,  but  they  could 
not  see  the  hordes  collecting 
in  the  rear  of  the  train.  As 
the  train  steamed  back,  the 
fire  from  the  Arabs  increased 
in  intensity,  and  was  more 
accurate.  However,  we  left 
many  biting  the  dust.  I  won- 
dered at  this  moment  how  the 
Sheikh  would  fare  a  few  days 
later,  for  our  strafe  would 
surely  take  place  now. 


n. 


We  reached  Eumaithah 
about  ten  o'clock,  and  Lieut. 
Hly.  prepared  messages  for 
Baghdad,  as  the  other  lines 
had  been  cut  during  the  night. 
We  now  discovered  that  the 
Baghdad  line  had  also  been 
cut,  and  that  helio  communi- 
cation was  impossible.  I  felt 
very  annoyed  at  not  being 
able  to  communicate  with  the 
regiment.  There  was  still,  how- 
ever, a  chance  to  get  through, 
and jthe  situation  demanded 


that  I  should  take  it.  When  I 
was  commanding  the  garrison 
at  Eumaithah  the  previous 
summer  the  railway  did  not 
exist.  Our  rations  were  sent 
from  Samawah  to  Aweid  by 
boat  on  the  Euphrates,  and 
then  convoyed  along  a  track 
of  ten  miles  through  the  desert. 
I  knew  this  route,  and  in  a  few 
seconds  I  made  up  my  mind, 
and  sent  my  orderly  to  the 
A.P.O.  with  the  request  that 
he  would  loan  me  his  horse 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


149 


and  send  two  Shabanas 
(mounted  arabs).  I  made  my 
intentions  known  to  Lieut. 
Hly.,  who  appeared  anything 
but  enthusiastic  about  them. 
Quos  Deus  vult  perdere,  prius 
dementat,  and  as  I  look  back 
to  that  time  I  must  admit 
that  these  must  have  been  the 
thoughts  of  Lieut.  Hly.  How- 
ever, I  considered  that  the 
situation  demanded  that  I 
should  make  the  attempt. 

Within  ten  minutes  of  my 
message  to  the  A.P.O.  a  horse 
and  two  mounted  Shabanas 
arrived,  and  declining  an  offer 
to  breakfast,  I  rode  off.  I 
found  the  saddle  very  uncom- 
fortable, and  as  I  was  dressed 
in  shorts  my  knees  soon  became 
raw  with  the  rub  of  the  stirrup 
leathers.  It  was  very  hot, 
and  in  order  to  complete  the 
ride  before  the  scorching  hours 
of  noon  I  kept  my  horse  at  a 
fast  trot.  The  track,  which 
twelve  months  previously  had 
been  passable  for  carts,  was 
now  broken  by  numerous  dry 
irrigation  channels,  and  while 
my  horse  easily  cleared  these, 
the  Shabanas,  mounted  on  their 
Arab  ponies,  found  it  more 
difficult.  When  I  had  advanced 
about  three  miles,  I  noticed 
that  the  Arabs  I  passed  seldom 
salaamed,  and  this,  which 
should  have  warned  me  of 
dangers  ahead,  I  allowed  to 
pass,  as  I  had  other  things  to 
think  about.  The  large  mud 
fort,  which  lay  near  the  track, 
and  which  was  a  landmark 
denoting  that  half  the  desert 
track  had  been  completed,  was 
now  visible.  Ten  more  min- 


utes and  I  was  riding  past  the 
fort,  and  into  the  second  half 
of  my  ride.  I  had  proceeded 
but  a  few  yards  beyond  the 
fort  when  I  was  surprised  by 
the  whizz-whizz  of  bullets  which 
were  striking  the  ground  around 
me.  Urging  my  horse  into  a 
full  gallop,  I  signalled  to  the 
two  Shabanas  to  do  likewise, 
and  looking  around  I  found 
that  the  fort  which  I  had  just 
passed  was  lined  with  Arabs, 
who  were  taking  careful  aim 
and  discharging  much  shot  at 
us.  The  bullets  apparently 
frightened  my  horse,  for  he 
did  not  require  much  urging, 
and  in  the  next  mile  jumps 
were  cleared  which  would  have 
surprised  many.  The  scorch- 
ing heat  of  the  sun  and  the 
raw  knees  all  vanished  in  the 
new  excitement.  I  covered 
over  a  mile  before  attempting 
to  draw  rein.  The  bullets 
were  falling  well  in  the 
rear. 

I  now  discovered  a  fresh 
danger.  Mounted  Arabs  had 
taken  up  the  chase,  and  were 
well  ahead  on  both  my  flanks, 
while  a  number  were  at  full 
gallop  in  the  rear.  The 
mounted  Arabs  had  formed  a 
large  circle,  which  was  being 
gradually  closed,  and  I  was 
in  the  trap.  To  stand  and 
fight,  a  revolver  and  two  rifles 
against  at  least  forty  rifles 
with  unlimited  reserve,  was 
hopeless  ;  and  rather  than  die 
like  a  rat  in  a  trap,  I  decided 
to  break  through  the  circle 
and  reach  the  river,  where,  if 
luck  was  with  me,  I  should  be 
able  to  hide  until  nightfall, 


150 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


and  then  make  my  way  on- 
ward. Bidding  the  Shabanas 
who  were  riding  behind  to 
follow  my  lead,  I  went  at 
full  gallop,  but  I  had  only 
completed  a  few  yards  when 
the  bullets  again  began  to  fall 
uncomfortably  near.  I  turned 
in  my  saddle  and  observed 
that  the  mounted  Arabs  had 
commenced  to  fire,  and  to  add 
a  new  horror,  one  of  the  Sha- 
banas was  some  thousand  yards 
behind,  and  was  handing  over 
his  rifle  to  one  of  the  mounted 
Arabs.  The  other  Shabana,  a 
youth  of  some  seventeen  years, 
was  following  me  about  one 
hundred  yards  in  the  rear.  A 
difficulty  now  arose.  Was  this 
youth  to  be  trusted  f  Should 
I  shoot  him  in  case  he  medi- 
tated treachery  ?  He  could 
not  keep  the  pace,  and  if  I 
left  him  it  would  be  deserting 
him,  and  in  the  meantime  the 
Arabs  were  closing  the  trap. 
A  bullet  at  that  moment  struck 
the  ground  near  him,  and  that 
gave  me  the  answer  to  my 
mind,  and  I  drew  rein  to 
enable  him  to  ride  alongside. 
His  horse  then  appeared  to 
have  more  vigour,  and  once 
again  I  went  all  out. 

It  was  now  a  question  of 
seconds,  for  the  leading  Arabs 
of  each  flank  were  getting  closer 
and  closer,  and  the  trap  was 
rapidly  closing.  We  were  mak- 
ing fast  for  an  old  bund  where 
it  was  obvious  that  the  mouth 
of  the  circle  would  close.  Draw- 
ing my  revolver,  I  charged  over 
the  bund,  and  was  out  of  the 
circle.  The  horse  appeared  to 
know  the  requirements  of  its 
rider,  and  rarely  can  a  horse 


have  served  a  master  so  well. 
The    Arabs    started    a    heavy 
fire  from  the  bund,  and  a  few 
yards  from  the  bund  the  Sha- 
bana rolled  over  the  head  of 
his  horse  and  lay  still.    I  was 
now  only  two  miles  from  the 
river,  but  I  was  off  the  track, 
and  my  faithful  animal  began 
to    stumble    badly.      Hearing 
the  galloping  hoofs  of  a  horse 
just  in  my  rear,  I  prayed  for 
a    steady    hand,    and    swung 
round  in  the  saddle,  my  finger 
on   the   trigger.      It   was   the 
riderless  horse  of  the  Shabana, 
and  just  behind  was  another 
riderless    horse.      The   nearest 
pursuer  was  a  thousand  yards 
in  the  rear,  but  still  the  bullets 
were  whizzing  through  the  air, 
and   one   passed   through   my 
topie.    I  kept  up  a  full  gallop, 
or  as  near  as  my  Horse  could 
raise   one.     Suddenly  I   came 
to   a  river.     It   was   not   the 
main  Euphrates,  but  an  inlet 
from  the  Euphrates,  and  then 
out  of  the  dark  cloud  of  despair 
came  a  ray  of  hope.    The  river 
was  lined  with  tall  rushes,  and 
in    these    I    could    hide    until 
nightfall.      Then    the    ray    of 
hope  faded  and  utter  despair 
reigned,  for  although  I  could 
dispose  of  my  own  horse  by 
riding  it  into  the  river  and  then 
shooting  it — a  terrible  act  to 
such  a  faithful  animal — I  could 
not  dispose  of  the  two  riderless 
horses,  which  had  followed  me, 
in  time  to  put  my  pursuers  off 
the  track.    There  was  nothing 
to  do  but  make  for  the  river 
Euphrates :  here  lay  my  only 
hope,    and    all    depended    on 
how     quickly     it     could     be 
accomplished. 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


151 


Urging  my  stumbling  horse 
onwards  through  the  water,  I 
observed  the  mast  of  a  bellum 
which  I  knew  must  be  sailing 
on  the  Euphrates.  The  marshy 
banks  of  the  inlet  through 
which  I  had  just  passed  proved 
too  great  a  strain  for  the  horse, 
and  it  was  now  only  able  to 
raise  a  slow  trot,  and  this  with 
difficulty.  I  turned  in  my 
saddle,  to  find  about  twenty 
of  my  pursuers  some  six  hun- 
dred yards  behind  me.  Look- 
ing in  all  directions,  I  found 
that  while  these  twenty  had 
followed  in  the  rear,  the  re- 
mainder had  kept  to  the  track, 
and  were  crossing  the  river  by 
a  bund.  They  now  broke  into 
a  full  gallop.  All  had  stopped 
firing,  and  by  this  I  knew  that 
I  was  to  be  taken  alive.  I 
knew  but  too  well  what  this 
would  mean  —  gradual  tor- 
ture, only  to  be  released  by 
death.  Again  turning  round 
in  my  saddle,  I  drew  my  re- 
volver to  account  for  as  many 
of  my  pursuers  as  possible, 
and  then  to  turn  the  revolver 
on  myself.  The  Arabs  were 
still  five  hundred  yards  away. 
It  was  useless  firing  at  such  a 


range.  I  gazed  at  the  revolver, 
my  finger  on  the  trigger.  My 
horse  then  stumbled,  and  took 
my  gaze  away,  and  there,  a 
few  hundred  yards  ahead,  lay 
the  river  Euphrates  ;  and  with 
that  thread  of  hope  I  thrust 
my  revolver  into  its  holster, 
and  did  all  I  could  to  keep 
my  horse  on  its  feet.  I 
dreaded  to  turn  my  eyes  to 
the  rear.  In  a  few  moments 
I  reached  the  river,  to  find 
the  banks  too  steep  for  the 
horse.  I  swung  myself  from 
the  saddle,  and  as  I  touched 
the  ground  I  dropped  and  lay 
unable  to  move,  for  the  sun 
had  so  melted  the  muscles 
that  they  were  no  longer  able 
to  answer  the  brain.  The 
sound  of  galloping  hoofs  be- 
came louder  and  louder  as  I 
rolled  to  the  bank.  Beaching 
the  edge  I  made  a  dive  down 
the  bank,  when  a  sudden  pain 
in  my  head  told  me  that  the 
end  was  near.  I  slipped  my 
hand  to  my  holster  to  draw 
my  revolver,  but  it  had  gone. 
A  second  blow,  and  some  twenty 
fiendish  faces  appeared  above 
me.  I  prayed  that  the  end 
might  come  quickly. 


m. 

'  Where  the  victim  lies,  let  the  dead-hymn  rise, 
Lift  ye  the  hymn  of  the  Furies  amain, 
The  gleeless  song  and  the  lyreless  strain, 
That  bindeth  the  heart  with  a  viewless  chain, 
With  notes  of  distraction  and  maddening  sorrow, 
Blighting  the  brain  and  burning  the  marrow. 
Where  the  victim  lies,  let  the  dead-hymn  rise, 
The  hymn  that  binds  with  a  viewless  chain." 

—  The  Eumenides. 


Within  a  few  seconds  I  was 
in  purls  naturalibus.  A  num- 
ber of  tribesmen  then  jumped 


on  me,  screaming  a  war  -  cry 
as  they  did  so.  My  body  was 
a  mass  of  bruises,  and  my 


152                            An  Adventure  with  Arabs.  [Aug. 

breath    came   and   went   with  that  sense  of  relief  my  brain 

difficulty.     With   each   spasm  became     unclouded,     and     I 

there  poured  a  steady  stream  attempted     to     rise.       Surely 

of  blood.     I  saw  the  flash  of  I    was    now    safe    with    but 

bright  steel  as  an  Arab,  kneel-  one    enemy — the    sun — which 

ing  on  me,   drew  his   dagger,  blistered   my  uncovered   body 

and  I  heard  the  click  of  several  with    its    scorching    rays.      I 

bolts.     A   sharp   pain   caused  half      rose,      only     to      drop 

me  to  close  my  eyes.    A  howl  down    again,     and     the     vil- 

from  the  fiendish  mob  and  I  lagers  formed    a   circle   round 

opened  my  eyes  to  meet  death,  me.     The  shrivelled  and   dis- 

now  a  welcome  friend.     There  torted  Arab  who  had  prevented 

were     hundreds     of     grinning  my  murder  came  before  me. 

fiends.     Shrieking   howls   rent  I     thanked     him     in    Hindu- 

the  air,  while  several  jumped  stani,    and   requested   him   to 

on   me    with    daggers    drawn,  give    me    some    covering    and 

Would  death  never  come.     A  water.     My  few  words  caused 

sudden   hush   in   the   howling  a  loud  yell  from   the   crowd, 

mob,  and  those  kneeling  on  me  The     old    tribesman    grinned 

rose,  and  the  face  of  an  old  and    made    a    curious     sign. 

Arab,  shrivelled  and  distorted,  Another       jumped      forward, 

appeared  hovering  above  me.  and    pointed    the    muzzle    of 

Another  gust  of  pain  and  obli-  his    rifle    in    my    face.      Half 

vion.    My  senses  returned  later,  dragged,    half   carried,    I   was 

and   I   noticed   that   a   warm  hurried  from  hut  to  hut  with 

argument    was    taking    place  blows    and    kicks,    while    the 

between    some    two    hundred  yells  of  the  tribesmen  rent  the 

Arabs,    who    had    apparently  air.     As  I   dropped  near  one 

gathered  from  the  villages  near  of    the    reed    huts    my    eyes 

by,    and    the    mounted    men  began  to  close,  and  the  yells 

who    had   pursued    me.      The  grew    dimmer    as    my    body 

mounted     men    then     moved  appeared  to  float  in  the  air. 

off,      and     it     was     with     a  Oblivion — some  broken  words 

pang    of    regret    that    I    saw  of  Hindustani — a  horrible  face 

my  faithful  horse  being  ridden  of   a   bearded   Arab — oblivion 

away.  — an  Arab  cloak  around  me — 

Death,   which   had  been  so  oblivion — a  horse,  a  bellum — 

near,  now  receded,  and  with  oblivion — water — oblivion. 


IV. 

When  my  senses  returned  I  vessel  of  water.    I  drank,  and 

found  myself  lying  in  a  dark  soon  finished  what  must  have 

room  filled  with  an  abominable  been  a  gallon,  and  afterwards 

smell.    A  small  boy  was  stand-  my  brain  became  clearer.    The 

ing  near  my  head  holding   a  horrors  through  which  I   had 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  icith  Arabs. 


153 


passed  were  soon  recalled.  I 
turned  to  the  boy,  but  he  had 
gone.  I  tried  to  rise  and  get 
to  the  door,  for  I  was  half 
poisoned  with  the  stench  of 
the  room,  half  blind  with  pain, 
and  half  mad  with  the  biting 
mosquitoes.  Being  unable  to 
walk,  I  crawled  along  the 
ground  towards  the  door,  to 
find  it  bolted  and  barred. 
Through  the  cracks  in  the 
wall  came  the  babble  of  many 
voices  in  excitement.  This 
gradually  died  away,  and  a 
more  melodious  murmur  filled 
the  air.  "  La  Ulah  ilia  Allah 
wa  Mohammed  rassool  Allah  " 
(There  is  but  one  God,  the 
God,  and  Mohammed  is  the 
prophet  of  God).  Then 
the  door  opened,  and  an 
Arab  of  large  stature,  with 
a  bearded  face,  entered.  His 
upper  part  was  covered  with 
pouches  full  of  large  cartridges, 
while  a  silver  dagger  dangled 
from  his  waist.  In  the  doorway 
appeared  several  armed  Arabs. 
I  tried  to  read  their  thoughts 
by  studying  the  expressions 
on  their  faces,  but  failed  to 
obtain  any  meaning  from  them. 
The  bearded  Arab  now  stood 
above  me,  and  addressed  to 
me  a  greeting  :  "  Salaam  Alai- 
kum  "  (Peace  be  with  you) — 
any  Arab  will  address  you  in 
such  faithful  terms,  but  this 
greeting  does  in  no  manner 
bind  him  from  opening  your 
throat  with  his  dagger  or  plung- 
ing it  into  your  back.  I 
replied  to  the  greeting  in  Hin- 
dustani, and  to  my  surprise 
the  Arab  replied  in  the  same 
language.  I  then  remembered 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXX. 


that  this  was  the  Arab  who 
had  snatched  me  from  death. 
From  some  papers  he  pro- 
duced, I  learnt  that  he  was 
a  Sheikh  of  the  name  of 
Hussan  Agha,  and  had  at  one 
time  been  employed  by  the 
British  Political  Department. 
Squatting  down  beside  me, 
Hussan  Agha  began  to  talk, 
and  told  me  that  he  was  my 
friend,  and  would  protect  me, 
although  he  and  his  tribe  were 
surrounded  by  enemies ;  but 
God  and  His  prophet  Moham- 
med were  great,  and  by  their 
will  I  should  be  safe.  My 
replies  were  punctuated  with 
groans,  for  I  was  still  suffering 
severe  pain.  A  small  boy  now 
appeared  with  a  large  dish  of 
rice  and  chicken,  and  laid  it 
before  me.  Hussan  Agha  com- 
menced to  mix  the  concoction 
with  his  fingers,  dissecting  the 
chicken  as  he  did  so.  He  was 
plainly  grieved  when  I  would 
not  eat,  and  led  me  outside 
and  prepared  a  carpet  for  me 
in  the  courtyard.  The  mos- 
quitoes were  very  numerous, 
but  the  air,  though  heavily 
scented  with  a  disagreeable 
odour  of  cow  -  dung,  was 
more  pleasant  and  cooler, 
and  my  brain  became  clearer. 
Hussan  Agha  now  lay  be- 
side me,  and  told  me  that 
Eumaithah  had  been  sur- 
rounded, and  that  there  had 
been  heavy  fighting  at  Sama- 
wah.  Fearing  that  Hly.  at 
Eumaithah  would  attempt  to 
break  through  by  the  route  I 
had  used,  and  that  similar 
information  to  that  which  had 
been  given  to  me  some  twelve 

F2 


154 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


months  previous,  when  the 
Arabs  who  surrounded  the  coun- 
try  were  said  to  be  a  peaceful 
and  law-abiding  people,  would 
be  given  to  Lieut.  Hly.,  I 
persuaded  Hussan  Agha,  not 
without  difficulty,  to  attempt 
to  smuggle  a  note  through  to 
Eumaithah.  In  this  note  I 
told  Hly.  the  state  of  the 
country  through  which  I  had 
passed,  and  informed  him  of 
my  present  position. 

Hussan  Agha  left  me,  and 
joined  a  group  of  tribesmen 
sitting  in  the  courtyard  en- 
gaged  in  animated  conversation, 
and  who  had  been  casting 
suspicious  glances  at  me.  The 
moon  had  risen,  and  I  was 
able  to  take  note  of  my  sur- 
roundings.  I  found  the  resi- 
dence  of  Hussan  Agha  to  be 
a  high  mud  fort,  with  a  look- 
out  tower,  and  a  courtyard 
surrounded  by  a  mud  wall 
with  a  height  of  ten  feet,  while 
a  reed  hut  lay  in  the  centre, 
The  only  entrance  into  the 
courtyard  from  outside  was 
one  heavy  wooden  door,  which 
was  well  guarded  by  a  number 
of  armed  men,  each  covered 
with  pouches  full  of  ammuni- 
tion  and  carrying  two  rifles, 
one  ancient  and  one  modern  ; 
while  from  the  waist  of  each 
man  there  dangled  a  dagger, 
The  mast  of  a  large  bellum 
appeared  above  the  wall  of 
the  courtyard,  and  this  told 
me  that  I  was  within  a  few 
feet  of  the  Euphrates.  I  learnt 


that  I  was  but  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  the  point  of  my 
capture,  but  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  river.  Escape 
immediately  entered  my  mind  ; 
for  although  at  the  moment  I 
was  safe,  my  return  to  the 
regiment  had  been  made  more 
imperative  by  the  events  of 
the  last  few  hours.  Even  if 
I  could  escape  from  the  fort 
the  prospects  of  reaching  Sama- 
wah  were  not  encouraging,  for 
it  meant  a  tramp  of  some 
twenty  miles  along  the  river 
bank,  with  death  lurking  at 
every  turning  ;  but  a  killing 
shot  from  a  sentry  or  sudden 
death  by  the  plunge  of  a 
dagger  was  more  welcome  than 
slow  butchery,  which  I  feared 
must  be  my  end  if  I  remained 
in  my  present  billet.  Spurred  on 
by  these  thoughts,  several  plans 
formulated  in  my  unsteady 
brain.  Suddenly  all  the  Arabs 
who  had  been  squatting  in 
the  courtyard  rose,  and  taking 
their  arms,  departed.  One  man 
made  his  way  to  the  top  of  the 
look-out  tower,  and  lay  down 
with  his  rifle  pointing  down 
into  the  courtyard  below,  while 
two  men  guarded  the  door  of 
the  mud  wall  surrounding  the 
courtyard.  My  hopes  of  escape 
began  to  fade.  Hussan  Agha 
came  and  placed  his  carpet 
within  a  few  inches  of  mine. 
Suddenly  I  was  seized  with 
terrible  pain,  and  this  was  the 
final  answer  to  any  hope  for 
escape  during  the  night. 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


155 


I  was  still  suffering  great 
pain  and  passed  a  very 
restless  night,  but  with  the 
dawn  came  hope,  and  with 
hope  pain  was  more  en- 
durable. Hussan  Agha  rose 
and  prepared  coffee,  of  which 
I  eagerly  partook.  The  sentry 
from  the  top  of  the  tower 
joined  us,  and  one  by  one 
the  armed  tribesmen,  who  had 
so  suddenly  departed  the  pre- 
vious night,  returned.  From 
their  appearance  I  knew  that 
they  had  been  prowling  around 
all  night.  What  had  been  their 
object  1  Was  Hussan  Agha 
suspicious  that  I  should  make 
an  escape,  or  was  he  afraid 
that  his  fort  would  be  attacked 
because  it  was  sheltering  me  ? 
I  was  now  full  of  hope,  and 
formed  the  latter  opinion. 
I  did  not,  however,  fail  to 
notice  the  peculiar  expression 
on  the  faces  of  these  Arabs. 
Chicken  and  rice  was  laid 
before  me,  and  although  the 
concoction  was  anything  but 
appetising,  I  profited  from  my 
experience  the  previous  night, 
and  commenced  to  eat.  After 
partaking  of  as  much  as  my 
delicate  appetite  would  permit, 
I  opened  conversation  with 
mine  host,  and  urged  him  to 
smuggle  me  through  to  Sama- 
wah.  He  appeared  disagree- 
ably surprised  at  my  request, 
and  replied  that  it  was  far  too 
dangerous  for  him.  He  said 
that  the  whole  country  had 
risen  against  the  British,  and 
that  several  British  garrisons 


were  no  more.  I  replied  that 
the  British  were  powerful,  and 
would  punish  all  who  had 
offended  them  by  word  or  by 
deed.  My  tone  was  a  little 
strong,  and  it  was  plain  that 
Hussan  Agha  was  angry ; 
and  realising  that  my  life 
lay  in  the  hands  of  this 
Sheikh,  I  became  more  concili- 
atory, though  at  the  same  time 
making  up  my  mind  to  escape 
that  night.  Men  were  sent  to 
scan  the  land  outside  the  fort, 
and  when  these  returned  two 
men  led  me  out  of  the  court- 
yard along  a  nullah  into  the 
river,  where  I  indulged  in  a 
very  welcome  but  primitive 
bath.  I  tarried  long  in  order 
to  gather  as  much  topographical 
information  as  possible  to  help 
me  in  my  intended  escape ; 
but  my  escort  soon  grew  im- 
patient, and  I  was  led  back 
to  the  reed  hut,  where  a  carpet 
had  been  laid  for  me.  I  had, 
however,  seen  enough  to  im- 
press upon  me  the  necessity 
of  keeping  well  inland  away 
from  the  river  bank,  for  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  for 
some  considerable  distance  was 
lined  with  reed  huts  of  the 
tribe  at  whose  hands  I  had 
received  such  vile  treatment 
the  previous  day.  On  this 
bank  also,  some  few  hundred 
yards  ahead,  stood  a  large 
fort  surrounded  by  many  reed 
huts,  apparently  the  dwellings 
of  a  large  tribe  and  their 
chief. 
Several  Arabs  now  entered 


156 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


the  reed  hut,  armed  to  the 
teeth  with  a  variety  of  weapons, 
who,  after  the  usual  ceremonies 
had  been  performed,  squatted 
themselves  down  round  about 
me.  Some  of  them  appeared 
surprised  at  my  presence.  Hus- 
san  Agha  was  absent,  and  I 
began  to  feel  somewhat  per- 
turbed as  many  attempted  to 
converse  with  me  by  making 
use  of  strange  languages  and 
making  signs ;  and  although  I 
understood  their  meaning  to 
some  extent,  I  preferred  to 
remain  silent.  One  old  Arab 
drew  his  dagger  from  his  waist, 
and  indicated  that  it  would 
soon  pass  over  my  throat. 
This  sent  a  queer  sensation 
through  me,  and  plainly  indi- 
cated how  precarious  my  posi- 
tion was ;  but  I  forced  a  grin 
and  felt  the  point  of  the 
dagger,  and  indicated  that  it 
was  sharp  enough  to  do  its 
work.  Arabs,  although  they 
consider  that  a  stab  in  the 
back  is  an  innocent  and  hon- 
ourable act,  do  not  lack  in 
bravery,  and  loathe  anything 
approaching  to  fear ;  and  so 
to  win  at  least  some  of  their 
confidence,  I  adopted  as  strong 
an  attitude  as  my  shaken 
nerves  would  permit.  But  I 
must  admit  that  it  was  an 
outward  and  visible  sign,  far 
different  from  the  f eeling  within 
me.  Sheikh  Hussan  Agha  now 
entered,  and  all  rose  as  if  one 
man,  and  salaamed  him.  Coffee 
was  served,  and  after  this  a 
debate,  lasting  over  two  hours, 
commenced.  That  the  debate 


chiefly  concerned  me  I  had  no 
doubt ;  and  if  my  life  was 
to  be  decided  by  a  court- 
martial,  composed  as  it  was 
of  tribesmen  whose  hatred 
of  the  Infidel  it  is  impos- 
sible to  imagine,  the  only 
finding  could  be  death.  Death 
in  the  excitement  of  battle 
cannot  be  and  is  not  particu- 
larly feared  by  the  soldier,  but 
death  by  these  Arabs  meant 
limbs  being  dissected  with  dag- 
gers unsharpened  for  their  pur- 
pose, or  by  burning,  or  by 
some  form  of  gradual  and 
lasting  torture  too  horrible  to 
mention  here.  I  tried  to  follow 
the  debate,  but  the  babble  was 
in  a  strange  tongue.  I  anx- 
iously watched  the  expression 
on  the  faces  of  the  debaters. 
The  evil  grin,  the  stern  look 
of  hatred,  coupled  with  such 
words  as  "  Angresi  Mafeish  " 
(the  English  are  no  more), 
Mahomedan,  and  Koran,  told 
me  too  plainly  how  matters 
were  going. 

The  boom-boom  of  aeroplane 
bombs  bursting  in  the  distance 
suddenly  filled  the  air.  All 
present  leaped  to  their  feet, 
and,  drawing  daggers  or  load- 
ing their  rifles,  turned  towards 
me.  Vile  hatred  was  written 
on  their  faces  as  they  fidgeted 
with  their  weapons.  Then  Hus- 
san Agha  told  me  that  the 
British  were  no  more,  and 
that  the  Turks  had,  with  the 
help  of  Allah  and  Arabs,  taken 
Baghdad,  while  the  few  British 
in  Basrah  were  hurrying  to 
boats. 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


157 


VI. 


• '  What  hand  shall  stay,  when  it  hath  willed  to  strike, 
The  uplifted  arm  of  Fate  ? " 

— Thebes. 


Jumping  from  my  squatting 
position  I  turned  on  the  assem- 
bly, and  with  a  voice  as  stern 
as  my  wits  would  allow,  I 
told  the  gathering  that  the 
British  were  strong,  that  their 
informers  who  had  told  them 
that  the  British  were  leaving 
were  liars,  and  that  punish- 
ment would  be  meted  out  to 
all  who  had  risen  against  the 
British.  Hussan  Agha  slowly 
interpreted  my  words.  Hussan 
Agha  had  just  spoken  the  last 
word,  when  boom-boom  from 
the  exploding  bombs  again 
vibrated  through  the  air.  One 
tribesman  lowered  his  rifle. 
Boom-boom  went  the  explod- 
ing bombs,  this  time  louder 
than  before.  Complete  silence 
followed.  The  Arabs  sat 
down  and  murmured  amongst 
themselves.  A  few  minutes 
later  the  assembly  broke  up, 
and  after  the  usual  ceremony 
departed  one  by  one,  leaving 
me  alone  with  Hussan  Agha, 
who  came  and  squatted  near 
me,  and  commenced  to  talk. 
I  was  an  eager  listener,  for 
I  knew  that  I  must  now  learn 
my  fate.  Hussan  Agha  told 
me  that  the  tribe  did  not  like 
my  presence,  as  I  was  not  a 
Mahomedan  and  the  English 
were  Infidels,  but  he  had  seen 
the  might  of  British  power 
when  he  had  visited  India 
some  years  ago,  and  I  should 


be  safe  as  long  as  I  remained 
under  his  roof.  To  reach  Sama- 
wah,  he  continued,  was  im- 
possible, as  he  was  surrounded 
by  enemies  embittered  by 
hatred  of  no  short  standing  or 
measure  ;  and  further,  he  had 
learnt  that  Samawah  had  been 
evacuated  by  the  British,  who 
were  now  hastily  embarking  at 
Basrah ;  that  the  Arabs  with 
the  help  of  Allah  and  their 
co-religionists — the  Turks — had 
begun  to  rule  the  country. 
Baghdad  had  fallen,  and  Basrah 
was  on  the  point  of  falling. 
Allah  was  great,  and  there  was 
a  way  into  India  via  Persia, 
and  he  would  take  me  to  India 
by  this  route.  By  Allah's  will 
all  would  be  well. 

It  was  only  after  a  long 
argument  that  I  proved  to 
Hussan  Agha  how  absurd  his 
information  was.  I  again  im- 
plored him  to  permit  me  to 
leave  his  fort,  so  that  I  could 
reach  Samawah  ;  but  this  he 
would  not  consent  to  do,  and 
soon  grew  weary  of  my  protests 
and  became  sullen.  I  made 
several  attempts  to  gain  the 
reasons  for  his  obstinacy,  but 
failed,  and  I  came  to  the 
conclusion,  which  afterwards 
proved  correct,  that  he,  the 
chief  of  the  tribe,  had  deemed 
it  wise  to  consult  the  elders. 
Nor  can  this  be  wondered 
at,  for  it  was  against  the 


158 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


words  of  the  Prophet — the 
words  which  govern  many  mil- 
lions with  a  power  the  extent 
of  which  no  man  can  gauge — 
to  harbour  and  not  to  slay  an 
Infidel.  By  my  death  Allah 
would  be  pleased.  Sheikh  Hus- 
san  Agha  knew  his  tribe,  and 
there  was  no  doubt  that  his 
power  was  strained  to  breaking 
point ;  for  he  had  not  only 
forbidden  them  to  join  the 
neighbouring  tribes  in  the  mur- 
der and  the  plunder  of  the 
Infidel,  but  he  was  harbouring 
one  of  them.  Many  a  chief 
has  felt  the  fateful  plunge  of 
the  dagger  for  much  less  a 
crime  against  the  Faith.  What 
had  been  the  answer  of  the 
elders  I  could  not  gather,  but 
it  was  apparent  that  for  the 
present  I  was  to  be  kept  a 
closely-guarded  prisoner. 

Sheikh  Hussan  Agha  went 
away,  and  I  was  left  with 
my  thoughts,  which  now  turned 
towards  plans  for  escape.  I 
busied  my  brain  for  an  hour 
before  I  came  to  any  plan 
which  was  likely  to  succeed, 
for  the  obstacles  to  be  over- 
come were  not  few.  That  my 
escape  from  the  fort  would 
have  to  be  made  in  the  darkest 
hour  of  the  night  was  quite 
clear.  This  meant  being  out- 
side the  fort  by  nine  o'clock. 
I  had  to  dispose  of  the  two 
nearest  sentries,  the  one  on 
the  tower  and  the  one  guard- 
ing the  door  leading  out  of 
the  courtyard ;  but  before  I 
could  accomplish  this  Hussan 
Agha  had  to  be  dealt  with, 
for  I  assumed  that  he  would 
have  his  carpet  a  few  inches 


from  mine  as  on  the  previous 
night.  I  had  also  to  count 
upon  several  Arabs  prowling 
around  in  the  near  vicinity  of 
the  fort.  Once  out  of  the  fort 
I  trusted  to  darkness,  to  quick- 
ness, and  to  luck.  To  obtain 
a  weapon  to  give  instantaneous 
but  noiseless  death  was  now 
to  be  considered.  This  meant 
obtaining  a  knobkerry  or  a 
dagger.  The  former  was  pre- 
ferred ;  for  though  the  small 
curved  dagger  is  very  effective, 
it  requires  accustomed  hands 
for  its  extraction,  and  swift- 
ness had  to  be  the  watchword 
for  the  night ;  and  although  I 
had  no  scruples  about  ridding 
the  world  for  ever  of  the  two 
sentries  and  the  prowlers  out- 
side the  fort,  I  had  no  wish  to 
kill  Hussan  Agha.  I  was, 
however,  suspicious  of  him, 
and  even  if  he  meant  well  I 
doubted  very  much  his  ability 
to  save  me  from  further  harm, 
even  from  the  members  of 
his  own  tribe  ;  and  it  was  to 
be  expected  that  the  other 
tribes,  having  knowledge  of 
my  whereabouts,  would  by  force 
of  persuasion,  or  by  force  of 
arms,  induce  him  to  carry 
out  the  commands  of  his  faith. 
However,  this  Sheikh  had 
snatched  me  from  the  jaws  of 
death,  and  for  this  he  de- 
served gratitude.  A  knobkerry 
then  was  the  only  weapon  to 
use.  Punishment  could  be 
meted  out  according  to  merit — 
a  hard  blow  for  Hussan  Agha 
sufficient  to  deprive  him  of  his 
senses  for  some  time,  and  yet 
insufficient  to  kill  him,  and  a 
harder  blow  for  the  remainder. 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


159 


To  dispose  of  Hussan  Agha, 
whose  carpet  would  be  but  a 
few  inches  from  mine,  and 
immediately  to  rush  and  kill 
the  two  sentries  guarding  the 
door,  was  not  a  difficult  task 
compared  with  the  getting  rid 
of  the  sentry  who  would  be 
lying  on  the  flat  roof  of  the 
fort  with  his  rifle  pointing 
down  into  the  courtyard  below. 
To  reach  this  sentry  unob- 
served was  absolutely  impos- 
sible, and  a  shot  from  his  rifle 
ringing  through  the  stillness 
of  the  night  would  greatly 
increase  my  difficulties.  How- 
ever, there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  run  the  gauntlet.  It  would 
be  comparatively  dark,  and  it 
was  not  unreasonable  to  expect 
that  his  firing  would  be  erratic, 
and,  provided  I  could  get  free 
from  the  fort,  there  was  at 
least  some  hope  for  escape  to 
Samawah.  My  only  apparel 
was  an  Arab  cloak,  which  had 
been  thrown  over  me  by  my 
rescuer  the  previous  day,  and 
it  was  therefore  necessary  to 
obtain  some  headgear  and  san- 
dals, and  for  these  I  intended 
to  ask  Hussan  Agha  on  his 
return,  plying  the  excuse  that 
my  feet  were  sore  and  my  head 
uncomfortable  owing  to  the 
heat.  I  was  thinking  how 
best  to  obtain  the  much-re- 
quired knobkerry,  when  my 
thoughts  were  interrupted  by 
the  return  of  Hussan  Agha, 
who  came  and  squatted  near 
me,  and  engaged  me  in  con- 
versation. I  eagerly  asked  him 
whether  my  note  to  Lieut.  Hly. 
at  Eumaithah  had  been  de- 
livered. To  this  question  he 


replied  that  he  had  sent  the 
note,  and  he  had  reasons  to 
believe  that  the  note  would 
be  delivered ;  but  the  way  was 
long  and  dangerous,  and  the 
messenger  would  not  hurry, 
as  the  sun  was  hot.  He  pro- 
mised to  inform  me  as  soon 
as  the  messenger  returned.  I 
gradually  approached  the  ques- 
tion of  some  headgear  and  san- 
dals, but  either  Hussan  Agha 
suspected  something  or  was 
against  my  turning  myself  into 
an  Arab,  for  he  told  me  in  an 
imperative  tone  to  remain  in 
the  hut,  and  declined  any 
assistance  in  the  matter.  My 
beautiful  schemes  began  to 
fade,  but  come  what  might 
I  decided  to  get  away  that 
night. 

An  Arab,  shrivelled  with  age 
and  horribly  disfigured,  attired 
only  in  a  tattered  cloak,  now 
entered,  and  after  the  usual 
ceremony  squatted  down  and 
glared  at  me.  The  old  man 
and  Hussan  Agha  then  gab- 
bled at  each  other  until  a  boy 
entered  carrying  chicken  and 
rice,  which  was  offered  to  the 
new-comer,  and  on  which  he 
immediately  got  busy  with  his 
fingers.  Hussan  Agha  then 
told  me  that  the  man  was  a 
stranger,  who  had  travelled 
far  through  the  desert  in  order 
to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Ker- 
bela,  the  sacred  city  of  Mesopo- 
tamia, in  which  lies  the  holy 
shrine,  the  tomb  of  Husain 
Ali.  Hussan  Agha  departed, 
and  I  was  left  alone  with  the 
stranger,  whose  presence  did 
not  decrease  my  discomfiture. 
After  the  meal,  and  after  the 


160 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


beastly  practice  of  indicating 
satisfaction  which  takes  the 
form  of  imitating  a  sea -sick 
person  on  a  rough  ocean, 
the  stranger  rose  and  again 
glared  at  me,  grinned,  closed 
his  evil  eye  —  he  had  only 
one — spat  on  the  ground,  and 
then  departed.  If  the  stranger 
intended  his  actions  to  show 
some  form  of  hate  to  frighten 
me,  he  miserably  failed  in  his 
object,  for  his  extraordinary 
performance  caused  me  great 
amusement,  and  took  from 
me  that  nauseous  feeling  which 
had  come  over  me  as  the  result 
of  his  method  of  expressing 
satisfaction  with  his  meal.  I 
guessed  the  time  to  be  some- 
where near  midday,  and  in 
order  to  be  refreshed  for  my 
forthcoming  exertions  I  made 


myself  as  comfortable  as  the 
circumstances  and  the  mos- 
quitoes would  permit,  and  tried 
to  sleep,  but  sleep  would  not 
come.  My  nerves  would  not 
settle,  and  I  could  not  persuade 
myself  that  an  Arab  would  not 
suddenly  appear  and  murder 
me.  A  stranger  might  arrive 
and  decide  to  wash  out  his 
many  iniquities  by  sending  the 
Infidel  to  everlasting  burning 
hell.  From  the  expression  on 
Hussan  Agha's  face  when  he 
returned  to  the  hut  I  at  once 
thought  that  he  would  carry 
out  the  commands  of  the  Pro- 
phet by  his  own  hands.  My 
agitation  must  have  been  obvi- 
ous, for  he  turned  to  me  and 
told  me  not  to  trouble,  as 
Allah  was  great,  and  by  his 
will  all  would  be  well. 


VII. 

"Whither  wouldst  thou?  calm  thy  bosom, 
Tame  the  madness  of  thy  blood  ; 
Ere  it  bring  a  crimson  blossom, 
Pluck  thy  passion  in  the  bud." 

— Thebes. 


The  time  slowly  passed, 
and  then  Hussan  Agha,  as 
was  anticipated,  laid  his 
carpet  a  few  inches  away 
from  mine  as  on  the  previous 
night.  He  was  fully  armed 
with  both  rifle  and  dagger, 
while  the  much-wanted  knob- 
kerry  dangled  from  his  waist. 
After  a  considerable  amount 
of  anxious  thought,  I  decided 
that  my  original  plan  was 
the  only  one  which  was  at 
all  likely  to  prove  a  success. 


The  time  for  the  commence- 
ment, however,  would  be  better 
delayed,  for  I  expected  the 
vigilance  of  the  sentries  to 
wane  as  the  night  advanced ; 
and  although  this  increased  the 
danger  without,  owing  to  the 
short  time  of  darkness  in  which 
to  cover  over  twenty  miles, 
the  danger  within  was  lessened, 
and  whatever  lurked  ahead 
the  nearer  danger  appeared 
the  greater. 
For  some  two  hours  I  lay  as 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


161 


still  as  the  mosquitoes  and  the 
sandflies  would  permit,  and 
then  I  decided  that  it  was  time 
for  action.  The  sentries  on 
the  top  of  the  tower  had 
not  moved  for  some  consider- 
able time,  and  the  sentries 
at  the  door  hung  wearily 
over  their  rifles,  and  appeared 
tired  of  their  task  and  the  long 
watch.  Pulling  my  nerves  to- 
gether, I  quietly  and  gradually 
turned  over  to  deal  with  my 
first  obstacle,  Hussan  Agha, 
whose  heavy  breathing  indi- 
cated that  he  was  enjoying 
a  happy  slumber.  Having 
stretched  forth  my  hand  near 
to  where  I  guessed  the  knob- 
kerry  to  be,  to  my  surprise 
and  disappointment  I  found 
myself  gazing  into  two  black 


glaring  eyes  sunken  in  the 
dark  bearded  face  of  Hussan 
Agha.  He  was  well  alert,  and 
his  hand  gripped  the  haft  of 
his  dagger,  while  an  evil  grin 
broke  on  his  face.  Had  he 
guessed  my  motive,  or  had  the 
gods  decreed  thus  ?  Suddenly 
a  shot  rang  out  through  the 
still  air,  and  re-echoed  over 
the  silent  space.  The  weary 
sentries  were  now  fully  roused, 
and  showed  their  preparedness 
for  action.  All  hope  for  im- 
mediate escape  was  gone. 
Touching  my  shoulder,  Hussan 
Agha  told  me  in  a  tone  full 
of  meaning  that  the  shot  was 
not  the  alarm,  and  advised  me 
to  go  to  sleep.  I  decided  to 
obey  what  was  unquestionably 
a  command. 


vni. 


At  daybreak  the  sentries 
from  the  tower  descended 
into  the  courtyard,  and  were 
joined  by  the  sentries  who 
had  guarded  the  door,  while 
to  their  number  were  added 
several  Arabs  who  had  oc- 
cupied the  nullahs  round  the 
fort.  Prayers  commenced,  and 
the  murmur,  "  La  Illah  ilia 
Allah  wa.  Mohammed  Eassoor 
Allah,"  again  went  up.  After 
the  murmuring  had  finished, 
coffee  was  served,  and  then 
the  usual  babble  began.  Each 
one  present  addressed  some 
remark  to  me,  which  I  did 
not  understand.  I  was  sur- 
prised to  observe  that  their 
attitude  now  appeared  to  have 


changed.  The  usual  look  of 
hatred  and  the  evil  grin  was 
not  to  be  found  on  their  faces. 
Two  Arabs  led  me  outside 
the  fort  along  a  deep  nullah  to 
the  river,  where,  as  on  the 
previous  day,  I  indulged  in  a 
long  but  primitive  bath.  I 
had  just  emerged  from  the 
water  when  four  shots  in  quick 
succession  were  fired  from 
the  fort.  The  only  effect 
that  this  had  on  my  escort 
was  to  increase  their  im- 
patience to  return  immediately 
to  the  fort.  Before  being 
rushed  into  the  courtyard  I 
had  noticed  a  large  bellum 
flying  a  green  banner  sailing 
down  the  river  towards  the 


162 


An  Adventure  wiih  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


fort,  and  then  I  remembered 
that  it  was  a  tribal  custom 
to  fire  a  salutation  of  four 
shots  to  any  party  they  ex- 
pected to  receive,  and  it  oc- 
curred to  me  that  the  party 
must  be  friends  to  be  welcomed 
by  such  a  salute.  A  ray  of 
hope  then  floated  through  my 
wearied  mind.  Could  not  this 
party  smuggle  me,  disguised, 
to  Samawah  f  I  expected  Hus- 
san  Agha  to  have  no  difficulty 
in  persuading  them  to  take  the 
risks,  for  the  shots  had  proved 
their  friendship.  Hussan  Agha 
was  still  absent,  and  I  anx- 
iously awaited  his  return,  for  I 
felt  confident  that  my  request 
would  be  granted,  and  I  began 
to  think  of  a  scheme  to  darken 
my  face  to  assist  me  in  my 
disguise.  After  waiting  for 
about  an  hour  I  became  over- 
anxious lest  the  bellum  would 
depart  without  Hussan  Agha 
hearing  of  my  request,  and  I 
rose  to  go  outside  and  investi- 
gate. An  Arab  who  was  squat- 
ting just  outside  the  reed  hut 
jumped  up  at  my  approach, 
and  in  an  imperative  tone 
ordered  me  to  return  to  my 
squatting  place.  I  had,  how- 
ever, been  able  to  observe 
that  the  bellum  which  I  had 
noticed  earlier  was  now  along- 
side the  fort,  for  its  peculiar 
decorated  mast  was  to  be  seen 
above  the  wall  which  sur- 
rounded the  courtyard. 

Several  Arabs  now  entered 
the  hut.  They  were  the  elders 
of  the  tribe  who  had  sat  in 
judgment  the  previous  day. 
They  squatted  themselves  down 


and  were  later  joined  by  ten 
men,  whom  I  had  not  met 
before.  My  presence  was  ig- 
nored. I  was  much  relieved 
when  I  heard  the  voice  of 
Hussan  Agha  just  outside  the 
fort.  I  rose  and  made  my 
way  to  the  entrance  of  the 
hut  to '  meet  him  and  make 
known  my  request.  In  the 
entrance  surprise  was  waiting 
me,  for  there,  blocking  my 
way,  stood  two  Arabs  dressed 
in  long  white  robes  with  bright 
green  puggries  on  their  heads. 
From  their  appearance  I  knew 
them  to  be  priests  of  no  mean 
order.  For  a  few  seconds  we 
gazed  at  each  other,  and  then 
a  sickly  smile  broke  on  the 
face  of  the  nearest  priest, 
who  lifted  his  hand  and  made 
a  mysterious  sign.  Horror- 
stricken,  I  backed  my  way 
to  my  squatting  place.  My 
fate  now  rested  with  these 
two  priests,  and  I  felt  their 
tortures  already,  for  they  were 
the  sent  ones  of  the  Prophet, 
whose  mission  on  earth  was  to 
preach  by  persuasion  of  the 
threat  of  burning  hell  hereafter 
which  awaited  those  who  did 
not  kill  the  Infidel,  for  it  is 
written  in  the  Book  :  "  Strike 
off  their  hands  and  strike  off 
from  them  every  finger  tip." 
When  I  had  squatted  down 
the  priests  entered,  and  were 
followed  by  Hussan  Agha. 
Everybody  present  rose,  and 
kissed,  on  bended  knee,  the 
hand  of  the  priests.  Then  the 
babble  began.  Each  one  in 
his  turn  made  his  address  to 
one  of  the  priests,  who  answered, 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


163 


his  voice  sounding  like  the  hiss 
of  a  reptile  as  it  uncoils  itself 
to  deliver  its  poison.  As  the 
babble  continued,  the  hate  of 
every  man  against  me  increased, 
nor  were  they  lacking  to  show 
this,  for  several  turned  to  me 
with  their  daggers  drawn,  mak- 
ing the  usual  sign,  while  one 
Arab  gathered  a  few  pieces  of 
straw,  and  setting  these  alight, 
drew  my  attention,  and  indi- 
cated that  such  would  be  my 
end.  The  babble  seemed  as 
if  it  would  never  cease.  Sudden 
silence  and  then  a  hissing 
sound  filled  the  air.  The  snake 
was  vomiting  its  poison  into 
the  minds  of  the  elders,  who 
were  now  swaying  under  its 
spell,  and  one  jumped  at  me, 
his  dagger  raised  above  his 
head.  I  seemed  to  feel  its 
point  touching  the  vein,  but 
Hussan  Agha  was  between  me 
and  the  dagger,  and  the  fanatic 
again  squatted  down.  Then 
the  babble  began  again,  each 
man  trying  to  raise  his  voice 
above  his  neighbour's.  One 
of  the  priests  lifted  his  hand 
and  silence  followed,  to  be 
broken  by  the  hiss-hiss  of  the 
serpent's  tongue  as  he  com- 
menced again  to  address  the 
elders.  The  smaller  of  the 
two  priests  was  now  speaking. 
His  speech  must  have  lasted 
five  minutes,  after  which  he 
beckoned  to  me.  He  then 
picked  up  a  piece  of  straw 
and  slowly  tore  it  to  pieces, 
saying  as  he  did  so,  "  Angresi, 
Angresi  "  (English,  English)  ; 
and,  having  then  thrown  the 
pieces  of  straw  on  the  ground, 


spat  on  them.  I  looked  into 
the  face  of  Hussan  Agha,  but 
he  kept  his  eyes  on  the  ground. 
I  turned  again  to  the  assembly, 
to  find  Hussan  Agha  addressing 
them.  His  tone  had  lost  its 
brightness,  and  his  head  was 
bent,  and  his  words  came  slowly 
as  with  difficulty.  He  appeared 
as  one  doomed.  Another  hor- 
rible thought  now  filled  my 
mind.  Had  the  sentence  of 
death  been  passed  on  him, 
too,  for  violating  the  will  of 
Allah  in  sheltering  an  unbe- 
liever? Desperation  had  now 
turned  my  mind  to  madness, 
and  this  madness  sent  a  mes- 
sage to  me.  Certain  death 
was  now  advancing  in  rapid 
strides  to  meet  me,  and  Hus- 
san Agha,  I  thought,  would 
be  sure  to  follow.  Madness 
told  me  that  at  least  one 
man  should  feel  its  pang 
first.  Madness  told  me  to 
snatch  a  rifle,  and  for  ever 
stop  the  hissing  of  the  snake. 
That  such  action  would  hurry 
death  to  my  assistance  was 
certain,  and  this  instead  of 
lingering  torture.  A  sudden 
flash,  a  sting,  and  oblivion 
into  the  great  unknown,  and 
there  await  a  fairer  trial  than 
that  which  fate  now  decreed. 
I  watched  every  muscle  of 
the  Arab  nearest  to  me,  ready 
to  make  a  sudden  snatch  at 
his  rifle  when  his  grip  relaxed. 
I  could  hear  nothing  now  but 
the  beatings  of  my  heart  like 
a  great  pendulum  within  me, 
and  then  my  brain  reeled  and 
my  eyes  closed  as  I  fell  back- 
wards. 


164 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


IX. 


The  stupor  had  only  numbed 
my  understanding  for  a  few 
moments,  for  when  I  opened 
my  eyes  Hussan  Agha  was  still 
addressing  the  assembly,  and 
all  were  in  their  places  as 
before.  Hussan  Agha  now 
turned  to  me,  and  pitching 
his  tone  high  and  resolute, 
told  me  not  to  trouble,  as  by 
Allah's  will  all  would  be  well. 
Many  voices  were  now  hushed 
into  silence,  and  after  a  few 
minutes  the  priests  departed, 
leaving  a  strange  silence  be- 
hind them.  One  by  one  the 
assembly  departed,  each  one 
turning  to  me  as  he  went,  say- 
ing something  in  a  sullen  tone 
which  I  did  not  understand. 
When  all  had  gone,  Hussan 
Agha  came  to  me,  and  again 
told  me  that  Allah  was  great. 
I  was  an  anxious  listener, 
although  my  troubled  mind 
would  not  grasp  the  full  mean- 
ing of  his  words.  I  was  able 
to  gather,  however,  that  the 
two  priests  had  arrived  from 
Kerbela,  in  which  lies  the 
holy  of  holies  of  the  faith. 
The  priests,  Hussan  Agha  con- 
tinued, hated  the  English,  but 
they  had  not  been  to  India  to 
witness  the  might  of  British 
rule.  The  priests  had  increased 
the  passions  of  his  tribe  against 
me,  but  by  the  will  of  Allah 
all  would  be  well.  Again  this 
Sheikh  had  released  me  from 
certain  and  terrible  death  ;  but 
for  how  long  ?  What  was  his 
power  against  the  minds  of 
hundreds  of  fanatical  tribes- 


men and  of  the  twenty  elders, 
whose  minds  had  a  few  mo- 
ments before  been  inflamed 
by  the  sent  ones  of  the  mighty 
Prophet,  whose  detestation  of 
the  unbeliever  is  to  be  found 
written  on  every  page  of  the 
Script  f  I  warned  Hussan  Agha 
of  my  doubts  regarding  his 
men,  but  he  said  Allah  is 
great,  and  by  his  will  his 
men  had  given  their  word 
that  they  would  abide  by 
their  Sheikh.  The  sincerity 
of  this  old  man  stimulated 
my  nerves.  I  asked  Hussan 
Agha  to  prove  his  friendship, 
and  allow  me  to  depart  in  my 
own  way  and  in  my  own  time ; 
but  my  entreaties  were  made 
in  vain,  nor  did  he  fail  to 
show  his  disappointment  at  my 
requests.  Allah  was  great,  and 
he  would  make  ways  accord- 
ingly, was  the  only  reply  I 
could  obtain.  Wearied  with 
the  great  strain,  I  closed  my 
eyes  and  attempted  to  sleep, 
but  sleep  would  not  come, 
for  danger  appeared  lurking 
in  every  corner.  A  small  boy 
now  entered  with  the  usual 
dish  of  rice  and  chicken,  which 
he  laid  before  me,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  cigarettes.  The  cigar- 
ettes steadied  my  nerves  to 
no  small  extent.  Eefreshed, 
I  commenced  to  form  another 
plan  of  escape,  for  I  knew 
that  my  life  depended  on  how 
quickly  I  could  get  out  of  the 
black  hole. 

The  furtherance  of  my  plans 
was  interrupted  by  the  return 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


165 


of   Hussan   Agha,   whose   face 
had  now  brightened  after  the 
trying  ordeal  of  the  day.    Once 
again  he  told  me  that  Allah 
was  great,  and  knew  all  things. 
Allah  apparently  did  not  know 
the  way  to  Samawah,  for  Hus- 
san Agha  would  not  hear  an- 
other   word    on    the    matter. 
Our  conversation  was  broken 
by    the    shrill    voice    of    the 
Imam  of  the  mosque  near  by 
as   he  called  on   all  to  pray. 
Hussan  Agha  immediately  left 
me,  and  once  again  I  listened 
to  the  many  voices   chanting 
their  prayers  to  Allah.     Hus- 
san  Agha   returned   some    fif- 
teen   minutes    later,    and    led 
me  outside   and  towards   the 
mosque,  in  the   same  manner 
as    the    previous    evening.      I 
expected  to  be  placed  on  trial 
once  more,  but  the  trial  could 
have  no  new  horrors  for  me, 
for  I   had  grown   accustomed 
to  the  ordeal  and  its  terrors. 
On  our  arrival  at  the  mosque 
everybody    present    rose    and 
salaamed,  and  then  chattered 
amongst   themselves.     Several 
of   the   elders   who   had   been 
present  in  the  hut  earlier  in 
the   day,   and  who   had   been 
eager  listeners  to  the  priests, 
now    came    forward    and    ad- 
dressed Hussan  Agha.    A  youth 
who   had  been  busy   cleaning 
his  rifle   approached  me  with 
a  grin  on  his  face,  and  pointed 
to  the  bellum  which  lay  near 
the  fort,  and  by  various  mo- 
tions indicated  that  I  should 
travel  in  the  bellum.    I  guessed 
this  to  be  an  unpleasant  joke, 
and  then  I  observed  that  the 
faces    of    the    men    were    not 


covered  with  such  anger  as 
they  had  been  previously.  An- 
other youth  now  came  to  me 
and  handed  me  his  rule  to 
examine.  Complete  surprise 
overtook  me,  for  their  atti- 
tude was  changed  indeed.  A 
few  minutes  later  another  youth 
came  to  me  and  told  me  in  a 
mixed  language  of  English, 
Arabic,  and  Hindustani  that 
when  all  were  asleep  I  should 
travel  to  Samawah  in  the 
bellum,  which  he  pointed  out. 
Pleasant  excitement  complete- 
ly filled  me,  and  I  turned 
and  interrupted  Hussan  Agha, 
who  was  still  in  conversa- 
tion with  the  elders.  Hus- 
san Agha,  his  face  covered 
with  gloom  and  doubt,  told 
me  that  it  had  now  been 
decided  that  he  should  take 
me  under  cover  of  disguise 
and  darkness  to  Samawah.  At 
midnight  I  was  to  be  given 
some  Arab  clothing,  and  after- 
wards we  would  sail  in  the 
bellum  which  lay  near  the  fort. 
Waving  aside  my  interrup- 
tions, he  continued  that  it 
would  be  a  long  and  dangerous 
journey,  and  Allah  might  have 
willed  that  we  should  both 
perish.  If  death  should  come 
it  would  come  with  an  equal 
share. 

All  present,  except  Hus- 
san Agha,  appeared  to  be 
happy  with  the  intelligence 
of  my  departure,  and  each  in 
turn  endeavoured  with  diffi- 
cult tongue  to  elucidate  the 
scheme  which  was  to  send  me 
to  Samawah.  A  few  minutes 
later  every  man  went  his  way 
as  on  the  previous  evening, 


166 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


the  mounted  men  galloping  on 
the  skyline,  while  those  on 
foot  went  to  the  nullahs.  Hus- 
san  Agha  and  myself  made 
our  way  to  the  fort,  but  be- 
fore passing  in  we  stopped  to 
examine  the  bellum.  It  was 
very  large,  and  capable  of 
holding  at  least  thirty  men, 
and  thirty  men  would  be  useful 
in  a  running  fight.  Three 
Arabs  were  busy  preparing  the 
bellum  for  its  long  sail.  Satis- 
fied with  the  result  of  our 
inspection,  we  went  into  the 
courtyard  and  squatted  down. 
The  usual  meal  was  brought 
in  by  a  small  boy,  and  I 
enjoyed  a  real  fill. 

I  noticed  with  interest  that 
no  sentries  guarded  the  door 
or  mounted  the  tower.  I 
attempted  to  engage  Hussan 
Agha  in  conversation,  but  he. 
insisted  on  silence.  I  lay  for 
about  an  hour,  when  two 
strange  men  entered  carrying 
a  bundle  of  clothes,  which 
was  handed  to  me.  I  found 
that  the  bundle  of  clothes 
consisted  of  a  white  robe  with 
a  piece  of  cord  as  a  waist- 
band, a  frilled  garment  shaped 
like  a  waistcoat,  a  pair  of 
sandals,  and  Arab  headgear, 
which  was  made  up  of  a 
checkered  handkerchief  and  a 
coil  of  camel  hair.  An  abba 
(Arab  cloak)  completed  the 


outfit.     In  a  few  moments  I 
had  donned  my  disguise.    Hus- 
san  Agha   now   returned   and 
inspected    me.      He    appeared 
satisfied  with  my  appearance, 
but  did  not  utter   a  word.    He 
then  covered  his   short  beard 
with  henna,  dying  it  a  reddish- 
brown    colour.      Throwing    off 
his     abba,     he     adjusted     his 
pouches,  which  were  filled  with 
ammunition.      I    noticed    that 
he   had   exchanged  his  bright 
silver    dagger,     that     dangled 
from   his   waist    by    a    silken 
cord,    for    a    larger    one   with 
a   wooden    grip,    strapped   to 
his  waist.    A  small  boy  came 
towards     me,     and    indicated 
that    I    was    to    follow    him. 
A  surprise    now   awaited   me, 
for  instead   of  the   boy   lead- 
ing   me    to    the    bellum,    he 
led    me    to    the    top    of    the 
look-out  tower,  and  lying  flat 
himself,  indicated  to  me  to  do 
likewise.     I  gazed  around  me. 
Silent  and  devoid  of  movement, 
the    great    mysterious    desert 
appeared   a   No   Man's   Land, 
a   space  between  heaven   and 
earth,  where  even  the  spirits 
of  the  dead  had  ceased  to  stir. 
The  bellum  which  was  to  take 
us    to    Samawah    still   lay   in 
its    usual    position    alongside 
the  fort.     The  crew  had  long 
ceased  their  preparations,  and 
were  now  sleeping. 


x. 


I  lay  quite  still  and  silent  head,  and  my  heart  appeared 

for  about  two  hours,  when  a  to  have  stopped  its  beatings, 

slight  ruffle  in  the  air  broke  for  just  above  the  level  of  the 

the  vast  silence.    I  turned  my  flat   roof   of   the   tower   there 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


167 


appeared  a  human  head  cov- 
ered except  for  two  dark  glisten- 
ing eyes.  Two  fingers  then 
appeared,  and  made  a  peculiar 
sign.  The  face  gradually  un- 
covered, and  I  found  that  the 
apparition  was  Hussan  Agha, 
and  my  heart  recommenced 
its  action.  Hussan  Agha  beck- 
oned me  to  follow  him,  and 
disappeared  as  silently  as  he 
had  appeared.  The  small  boy 
who  had  been  lying  near  me 
had  seen  the  peculiar  sign,  but 
he  did  not  stir.  I  gradually 
turned  over  and  over  until  I 
reached  the  edge  of  the  roof, 
when  I  swung  silently  down  on 
to  the  steps,  and  descended 
into  the  courtyard  below.  Hus- 
san Agha  then  went  forward, 
and  instead  of  making  for  the 
door  of  the  courtyard  which 
led  to  the  river  where  the 
bellum  was  lying,  turned  into 
a  dark  passage,  and  indicated 
to  me  to  follow  him.  After 
making  many  turnings,  we 
came  to  a  crack  in  the  wall 
which  surrounded  the  fort. 
Passing  through  this  hole,  I 
found  myself  in  the  great 
open  plain.  Another  man  rose 
out  of  a  nullah  some  two 
hundred  yards  away,  and  we 
followed  him.  I  noticed  that 
we  were  making  away  from 
the  river,  and  I  turned  to 
Hussan  Agha  for  some  ex- 
planation, but  he  made  a  sign 
enjoining  strict  silence.  Sud- 
denly we  stopped.  The  man 
who  was  leading  had,  in  the 
flash  of  an  eye,  completely 
disappeared  as  if  the  earth 
had  opened  and  swallowed  him. 
Hussan  Agha  immediately 


threw  himself  on  the  ground, 
and  as  if  by  magic  I  found 
myself  in  the  same  position. 
After  waiting  for  a  few  min- 
utes, we  gradually  raised  our 
heads.  A  small  black  object 
appeared  about  two  hundred 
yards  ahead.  The  object  grad- 
ually grew  bigger  and  bigger, 
until  it  turned  into  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  a  man.  The  man 
in  front  now  rose  and  moved 
forward,  and  we  followed. 

We  had  completed  about 
one  mile  when  the  man  in 
front  again  mysteriously  dis- 
appeared. Hussan  Agha  and 
I  again  threw  ourselves  flat 
on  the  ground.  This  time  the 
uncanny  silence  was  broken 
by  Hussan  Agha,  who  mur- 
mured something  to  Allah.  A 
few  minutes'  wait  and  the 
man  in  front  again  rose  and 
advanced,  and  we  followed  him, 
keeping  the  regular  interval. 
As  we  advanced  farther  and 
farther  from  the  river,  my 
mind  grew  uneasy.  Picking 
up  the  direction  from  the  stars, 
I  found  that  we  were  going 
due  south,  and  I  knew  that 
Samawah  lay  south-east.  Once 
again  the  man  in  front  dis- 
appeared, and  once  again  we 
lay  flat  on  the  ground,  while 
Hussan  Agha  made  several 
references  to  Allah,  and  ex- 
amined his  rifle.  We  again 
advanced,  and  had  completed 
another  three  miles,  when  Hus- 
san Agha,  who  had  all  this 
time  kept  within  a  yard  from 
me,  changed  his  position,  and 
followed  me  about  two  hundred 
yards  in  the  rear.  Hussan 
Agha  beckoned  me  to  follow 


168 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


the  man  in  front,  who  was 
apparently  acting  as  a  scout. 
Hussan  Agha  now  acted  as  a 
rearguard.  A  number  of  black 
patches  appeared  out  of  the 
gloom,  and  as  we  advanced 
these  took  the  shape  of  reed 
huts.  Again  we  stopped,  and 
we  lay  in  this  position  for 
about  thirty  minutes.  A  howl 
from  a  wild  dog  then  echoed 
through  the  still  air.  I  kept 
my  eyes  fixed  on  the  reed  huts 
in  order  to  watch  any  move- 
ment, but  everything  was  as 
still  as  death.  Again  we  ad- 
vanced. I  expected  the  scout 
to  change  his  direction  from 
the  reed  huts,  but  to  my  sur- 
prise he  continued  a  straight 
course  to  them.  An  unpleasant 
thought  now  came  to  me.  Was 
this  man  going  to  betray  us 
and  lead  us  into  a  trap  ?  A 
howl  from  a  wild  dog  again 
re-echoed  through  the  silence, 
and  then  the  man  leading 
disappeared  as  mysteriously  as 
before.  I  turned  round,  to 
find  Hussan  Agha  lying  flat 
on  the  ground,  and  I  com- 
menced to  crawl  towards  him 
in  order  to  acquaint  him  with 
my  fears  regarding  the  actions 
of  the  leading  man.  To  my 
many  questions  Hussan  Agha 
replied  that  Allah  was  great, 
and  by  his  will  we  should  get 
through. 

We  lay  still  for  some  twenty 
minutes,  when  we  observed  a 
bush  of  camel-thorn  in  front 
of  us  move,  and  then  another  ; 
and  straining  our  eyes,  we  saw 
a  black  object  moving  towards 
us  creeping  along  the  ground 
like  some  huge  serpent.  When 


about  thirty  yards  away  we 
saw  that  it  was  the  face  of  a 
man  who  now  suddenly  changed 
his  direction  to  the  right.  Mur- 
muring something  to  Allah, 
Hussan  Agha  made  a  sign  for 
me  to  follow  the  man,  and 
crawling  along  on  our  stomachs 
we  moved  after  the  man,  who 
was  now  invisible  in  the  camel- 
thorn.  We  made  for  the  nearest 
bush  of  camel-thorn,  and  from 
there  we  were  able  to  follow  in 
the  track  of  the  man  by 
watching  the  move  of  the 
scrub.  We  came  across  a 
deep  nullah,  and  here  we  waited, 
for  the  leading  man  had  van- 
ished. A  black  object  came 
into  sight  and  moved  towards 
us,  and  halted  when  about 
twenty  yards  away.  Making 
a  curious  sign,  the  man  again 
disappeared  along  the  nullah. 
Moving  like  ghosts  along  the 
bottom  of  the  nullah,  we  com- 
menced to  follow  the  man.  A 
fiendish  cry  of  a  jackal  rose 
just  above  us.  Gazing  up- 
wards, I  was  horrified  to  dis- 
cover that  we  were  just  along- 
side one  of  the  reed  huts.  We 
now  quickened  our  pace  along 
the  winding  nullah,  and  we 
continued  without  a  stop  for 
about  a  mile,  when  the  lead- 
ing man  disappeared  around  a 
sharp  turning.  Hussan  Agha 
had  now  dropped  back  to  his 
position  a  hundred  yards  in 
my  rear.  The  waning  moon 
was  getting  weaker  and  weaker 
as  I  increased  my  pace  to  keep 
view  of  the  leading  man.  Turn- 
ing swiftly  round  the  corner  of 
the  nullah,  I  found  that  the 
black  apparition  had  completely 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


169 


vanished,  and  here  the  nullah 
divided  into  two.  I  hesitated 
for  a  second,  not  knowing  which 
turning  to  take,  and  then  an 
icy  hand  gripped  my  neck, 
and  I  felt  as  one  turned  to 
stone,  but  my  nerves  kept  their 
strength,  and  swinging  round 
I  freed  myself  from  the  grip, 
and  found  myself  in  front  of 
the  man  who  had  acted  as 
scout.  He  simply  indicated 
that  I  had  taken  the  wrong 
turning,  and  he  then  advanced 
and  signed  to  me  to  follow 
him.  Hussan  Agha  had  now 
joined  us.  We  waited  until 
the  scout  had  advanced  a  few 
yards,  when  we  continued  our 


track.  A  few  hundred  yards 
were  traversed  when  we 
climbed  out  of  the  nullah,  and 
proceeded  on  the  level  plain. 
Looking  around,  I  found  that 
we  were  some  distance  from 
the  reed  huts,  which  now  ap- 
peared as  black  patches  with- 
out any  particular  form.  We 
were  able  to  walk  upright,  and 
this  was  a  great  relief.  The 
scout  again  disappeared,  but 
this  time  Hussan  Agha  did 
not  halt,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
we  found  ourselves  on  the 
banks  of  the  river,  and  there, 
under  the  shelter  of  the  steep 
bank,  lay  a  small  canoe  with 
two  men  standing  beside  it. 


XI. 


We  experienced  great  diffi- 
culty in  reaching  the  canoe, 
for  there  was  a  straight  drop 
of  twenty  feet  from  the  bank 
to  the  water,  and  this  necessi- 
tated three  abbas  being  tied 
together  to  form  a  rope.  After 
we  had  been  let  down  the 
cloth  rope,  the  man  who  had 
been  our  scout  made  his  sa- 
laams, and  disappeared  into 
the  darkness.  After  attiring 
ourselves  in  the  cloaks,  Hussan 
Agha  signalled  to  me  to  get 
into  the  canoe.  Before  doing 
so  I  carefully  took  note  of 
the  two  men  who  had  charge. 
They  were  both  muffled  with 
clothes,  but  I  was  able  to 
recognise  one  of  the  two  men. 
He  was  the  man  who  had 
acted  as  menial  servant  to 
Hussan  Agha.  The  other  man 
was  a  stranger  to  me.  The 


small  canoe,  which  had  neither 
sail  nor  rudder,  would  not,  I 
thought,  be  capable  of  hold- 
ing four,  nor  could  I  see  the 
necessity  for  the  stranger  to 
travel  with  us,  and  I  hoped 
that  he  would  be  the  one  to 
be  left  behind.  However,  the 
stranger  required  no  invitation, 
and  immediately  squatted  him- 
self down  in  the  centre  of  the 
canoe  next  to  me,  while  Hus- 
san Agha  sat  at  the  head,  and 
the  other  man  in  the  rear 
with  the  paddle  oar.  Pushing 
off  from  the  bank,  we  got 
into  the  steady  current,  and 
were  soon  silently  being  car- 
ried down-stream.  The  world 
seemed  wrapt  in  slumber,  only 
the  stars  appeared  to  be  awake 
as  the  river  carried  us  along 
our  journey.  I  tried  to  locate 
our  position  from  the  peculiar 


170  An  Adventure  with  Arabs.  [Aug. 

windings,  for  I  had  sailed  many  jackals.  Hussan  Agha 
down  the  river  the  previous  stirred  and  prepared  his  rifle, 
year  under  more  comfortable  while  a  murmur  to  Allah  issued 
circumstances,  and  had  been  forth  from  his  lips.  We  pro- 
able  to  study  its  course,  ceeded  but  a  little  farther 
A  small  island  divided  the  when  a  shot  rang  out  and  re- 
river,  and  from  this  I  knew  echoed  over  the  water.  The 
that  we  were  approximately  small  canoe  at  that  moment 
twenty  miles  from  Samawah.  ran  into  a  mud  bank  and 
As  I  calculated  that  we  stopped.  I  held  my  breath, 
had  but  three  hours  before  expecting  every  moment  a  hail 
sunrise,  I  requested  Hussan  of  bullets  from  the  bank  above 
Agha  to  allow  me  to  take  the  or  a  horde  of  tribesmen  to 
place  of  the  steersman,  who  jump  down  on  us.  Five — ten 
was  not  making  full  use  of  his  — fifteen — twenty  seconds,  the 
paddle,  and  we  were  making  howl  of  the  dogs  and  the  cry 
only  three  miles  an  hour.  Hus-  of  jackals  still  continued.  I 
san  Agha  signalled  to  me  to  anxiously  gazed  upwards  to 
remain  still  and  silent.  The  the  top  of  the  bank,  but  the 
small  island  began  to  disappear  bank  was  so  steep  that  it  was 
into  the  darkness,  and  the  impossible  to  see  anything  be- 
river  widened.  We  steered  yond  its  line.  Turning  my 
close  to  the  bank,  and  moved  eyes  down-stream,  I  noticed 
slowly  under  its  cover  as  we  that  the  bank  a  little  distance 
approached  a  point  where  a  away  had  a  more  gradual 
channel  of  the  Euphrates  slope,  and  was  covered  with 
empties  itself  into  the  main  what  was  apparently  small 
river.  Gazing  upwards,  I  could  bushes  of  camel-thorn.  Then 
see  nothing  but  the  top  of  the  one  of  the  small  bushes  slowly 
steep  bank,  but  I  knew  that  moved  and  showed  a  white 
a  small  village  lay  within  a  object,  and  then  the  white 
few  yards  of  the  river  at  this  object  moved  and  then  an- 
point.  Like  all  great  rivers  other.  It  soon  became  obvious 
in  the  East,  the  Euphrates  that  we  were  in  a  trap,  for  at 
contains  many  turtle,  which,  the  spot  where  our  canoe  was 
if  undisturbed,  rest  in  the  soft  halted  the  bank  was  far  too 
mud  on  the  banks.  As  we  steep  for  a  man  to  descend, 
moved  along  the  bank  the  and  the  Arabs  from  the 
turtle  became  alarmed,  and  village  had  gone  ahead, 
sprang  into  the  water,  and  where  they  waited  for  us 
the  continuous  splash  became  I  crouched  forward  towards 
louder  and  louder.  The  noise  Hussan  Agha  to  inform  him 
alarmed  a  dog,  which  sent  a  of  our  new  danger,  when  I 
howl  through  the  air  just  as  noticed  that  the  white  objects 
we  were  under  the  village,  and  now  appeared  to  be  moving 
this  was  answered  by  several  aimlessly  about  the  bushes, 
other  dogs  and  the  cry  of  and  then  from  that  spot  there 


1921.] 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


171 


came  the  cry  of  a  jackal,  and 
at  that  moment  I  realised 
that  the  white  objects  were 
not  men  but  jackals,  and  my 
fears  had  been  imaginary  ones. 
We  waited  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  then  we  managed  to  push 
off  the  canoe  from  the  mud 
bank,  and  proceeded  on  our 
journey.  When  we  had  gone 
some  distance  from  the  village 
we  steered  towards  the  centre 
of  the  river  in  order  to  obtain 
the  full  force  of  the  current, 
and  the  steersman  ventured 
to  use  his  paddle  with  more 
vigorous  action.  We  had  com- 
pleted about  five  miles  when  a 
village,  standing  on  the  oppo- 
site bank,  appeared,  and  we 
steered  again  under  the  cover 
of  the  steep  bank.  The  bark- 
ing of  dogs  heralded  our  ap- 
proach, and  once  again  we 
came  to  a  halt.  We  waited 
for  several  minutes,  but  as  no 
shots  were  fired  we  ventured 
onwards.  We  had  gone  some 
few  hundred  yards  past  the 
village  when  three  shots  in 
quick  succession  rang  out  over 
the  water.  I  now  suggested 
that  we  should  make  for  mid- 
stream, increase  our  speed, 
and  keep  a  zigzag  course,  but 
Hussan  Agha  insisted  that  it 
would  be  wiser  to  keep  un- 
der cover  of  the  steep  bank. 
A  few  more  shots  were  fired 
at  us,  but  none  came  too  near 
the  canoe.  Another  mile  com- 
pleted, and  we  once  again 
ventured  into  mid-stream  and 
increased  our  speed.  We  passed 
the  village  of  Waar  without 
incident.  (A  few  days  later 
over  two  hundred  Arabs  turned 


out  of  this  village  and  heavily 
engaged  a  defence  vessel.)  We 
passed  under  the  old  and  half- 
demolished  railway  bridge,  and 
I  knew  that  we  were  but  eight 
miles  from  Samawah,  with  but 
three  other  villages  to  pass. 
Two  hours  passed,  and  we  were 
nearing  the  village  of  Musaadah, 
which  I  knew  to  be  one  mile 
from  the  advanced  picquets  of 
the  regiment.  A  white  Very 
light  suddenly  shot  upwards 
from  what  I  guessed  to  be  the 
picquet  guarding  the  railway 
bridge  at  Barbooti.  We 
reached  the  village  of  Musaa- 
dah, and  it  being  unwise  to 
advance  towards  the  picquets 
during  darkness,  we  decided 
to  halt  until  dawn,  which  now 
could  not  be  far  distant.  Little 
did  I  then  know  that  the  village 
above  us  contained  over  six 
hundred  armed  tribesmen  who 
a  few  days  previously  had 
battled  against  one  of  our 
small  picquets,  and  who  in  a 
few  hours  were  to  receive  just 
punishment.  Murmuring  some- 
thing to  Allah,  Hussan  Agha 
climbed  up  the  bank  and 
looked  anxiously  around.  He 
was  followed  by  the  steersman 
and  the  stranger,  who  through- 
out the  long  journey  had  done 
nothing  but  continuously  count 
a  ring  of  beads.  We  waited 
but  a  few  minutes  when  a 
streak  of  grey  appeared  in 
the  sky,  and  another  day  was 
born.  The  grey  streak  widened 
and  turned  into  crimson,  to 
be  turned  again  into  a  pool  of 
pure  gold  to  greet  the  golden 
spectre  which  was  now  rising 
like  the  dome  of  a  mighty 


172 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs. 


[Aug. 


temple    from    the    waters    of 
gold,   and   the   stars,   as  if  in 
fear  of  its  fiery  flame,  faded 
and  vanished  from  its  might. 
Hussan    Agha    and    the    two 
men   returned    to    the    canoe, 
and  pushing  off  from  the  bank 
we   were    carried   onwards    to 
the  end  of  our  long  journey. 
I  could  now  discern  a  number 
of     sepoys    of    my    regiment 
lying  on  the  top   of  a  sand- 
bagged  brick   building,   which 
had  been  a  railway  hut.     As 
we    got    nearer    I    saw    two 
sepoys    turn    round    a    Lewis 
gun  and  take  careful  aim  on 
the     canoe.       Snatching     the 
paddle  from  the  steersman,  I 
tore  off  one  of  my  white  gar- 
ments and  signalled.     Hussan 
Agha   and  his  two   men  now 
lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe 
praying    hard    to    Allah,    the 
stranger   breaking   the   prayer 
by    counting    his    beads,    and 
this    time    he    counted    them 
more   rapidly ;     nor   can   this 
be  wondered  at,  for  we  were 
now     within     seven     hundred 
yards  of  the  gun,  manned  by 
men    well    accustomed    to    its 
use,  and  we  lay  a  very  easy 
target    indeed.      The    current 
gradually  took  us  forward,  and 
then  I  noticed  a  blue  signalling 
flag  being  waved  in  answer  to 
my    improvised    signals ;    but 


the  gunners,  still  uncertain  of 
us,    kept    aim    on    the    canoe. 
Three    men    came    down    the 
bank  with  bayonets  fixed  and 
their   fingers    on  the   triggers. 
I  was  able  to  shout  my  name 
to  them,  and  requested  them 
not  to  fire.     It  was  not  until 
I    had    jumped    out    of    the 
canoe  and  a  few  yards  from 
them  that  they  lowered  their 
rifles.      As     they     recognised 
me   they   gave   a   tremendous 
shout    of    greeting,    while    the 
Indian   officer   sprang  forward 
to    shake   my   hand   and   ply 
me    with    questions.      Several 
sepoys   rushed   to   the   buzzer 
telephone     to     inform    Head- 
quarters   of    my     arrival.      I 
turned    round    to    find    that 
three   sepoys  had  their  bayo- 
nets at  the  throats  of  Hussan 
Agha  and  his  two  men,  and  it 
was   not  until  I  had  assured 
them  that  they  had  done  me 
no  harm  that  the    sepoys  let 
go  their  guard.     It  was  with 
a  light  tread  that  I  made  my 
way    to    Headquarters,  which 
lay  a   mile  ahead.      Half-way 
Captain  H.,  the  Adjutant,  came 
rushing  along  in  his  pyjamas, 
and  with  the  grip  of  his  hand- 
shake I  appeared  to  rise  out 
of  some  weird  nightmare.    Hus- 
san Agha  came  alongside   and 
murmured,  "  Allah  is  great." 


1921.] 


173 


THE   VOYAGE   HOME. 


BY  ALAN   GRAHAM. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


HONITON  was  touched  by 
the  evidence  of  the  Scotchmen's 
continued  goodwill  towards  him, 
but  through  Peter  Brown  he 
conveyed  to  them  a  refusal  of 
their  invitation.  He  could  not 
bring  himself  to  facing  even 
those  who  were  prepared  to 
treat  him  as  though  there  had 
been  no  change  in  his  reputa- 
tion. He  preferred  solitude 
and  his  own  bitter  thoughts, 
even  at  the  risk  of  hurting  their 
feelings.  Not  until  he  felt 
assured  that  darkness  and  the 
night  air  had  driven  the  last 
of  the  passengers  below  would 
he  venture  on  deck  and  start 
upon  his  weary  mechanical 
tramp. 

He  had  paced  the  length  of 
the  deck  twice,  when,  turning 
at  the  forward  limit  of  his 
course,  he  was  arrested  by  the 
sound  of  his  own  name,  spoken 
in  little  more  than  a  whisper, 
but  in  a  voice  that  he  could 
not  mistake. 

He  stopped  abruptly  and 
looked  around  into  the  dark- 
ness, his  pulses  throbbing  al- 
most painfully.  He  had  a  wild 
impulse  to  turn  and  run  rather 
than  face  again  the  torture  of 
a  meeting  ;  but  something  in 
the  tone  in  which  she  spoke 
his  name  held  him  back. 


At  first  he  could  see  nothing, 
then,  as  she  moved  in  the  dark- 
ness, he  saw  her  figure  dimly 
as  a  more  opaque  black  than 
its  surroundings.  He  waited, 
breathless,  for  what  she  would 
say. 

"  I  have  waited  for  you,"  she 
said  in  a  constrained  yet  trem- 
ulous voice,  "because  there  is 
something  that  I  want  to  say 
— that  I  must  say." 

He  made  no  answer  in  the 
pause  that  followed,  but  waited, 
wondering,  to  hear  her  voice 
again. 

"  I — when  you  told  me — 
what  you  did,  I  behaved — 
very  badly.  I  can  hardly 
speak  of  it  for  shame.  I  feel 
that  I  must  ask  you  to  forgive 
me.  I — the  shock  was — so 
great.  Afterwards  I  could 
hardly  believe  that  I  had — 
acted  so." 

Her  phrases  came  to  him 
brokenly  from  the  darkness, 
and  his  heart  yearned  and 
ached  for  her.  Was  it  not 
enough  that  she  should  suffer 
from  her  disillusionment  with- 
out having  this  additional  cause 
for  pain  ?  That  she  should  be 
able  to  sink  the  former  in  re- 
morse for  her  momentary  in- 
stinctive lapse  into  elemental 
passion  brought  him  to  a  new 


Copyrighted  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


174 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


realisation  of  what  he  had  lost 
in  her. 

"  Forgive  you ! "  he  ex- 
claimed hoarsely,  almost  in 
awe.  "  There  was  nothing  to 
forgive.  I  deserved  all — far 
more  than  all.  Do  not  speak 
of  it." 

"  Whatever  you  deserved — 
and  even  now  I  do  not  know," 
she  interjected  pitifully,  "  I 
wish  you  to  believe  that  I  am 
deeply  ashamed  that  I — struck 
you,  and  that  I  said  things 
that  were — bitter  and  cruel. 
Can  you  forgive  them  ?  " 

"  I  have  forgotten  them.  I 
do  not  know  if  I  even  heard 
them.  I  could  think — can  think 
— of  nothing  but  how  I  deceived 
you ;  how  I  took  advantage  of 
your  innocence  of  life — how  I 
broke  your  heart — and  mine." 

Jocelyn  was  silent.  She  had 
said  all  that  she  admitted  to 
herself  that  she  had  come  to 
say,  yet  she  did  not  go. 

Honiton  waited.  He  had 
nothing  more  to  say.  His  con- 
fession had  ended  all  that  he 
could  ever  say  to  her,  and  he 
waited,  dumbly,  for  her  to  close 
the  interview.  Instead  of  that, 
she  spoke  again,  a  new  note 
of  entreaty  in  her  voice. 

"  Frank — have  you  nothing 
to  say  ?  Can  you  not  tell  me 
something  —  anything  —  about 
yourself,  that  will  soften  the 
awfulness  of  it  ?  Is  there  not 
some  excuse  you  can  make  ?  " 

It  was  a  cry  from  the  heart, 
but  it  was  also  an  unconscious 
appeal  for  the  rehabilitation  of 
her  self-respect.  Could  she  only 
feel  her  love  to  be  less  of  a 
degradation,  she  could  suffer 


its  hopelessness  with  greater 
resignation. 

Honiton  answered  with  diffi- 
culty. To  him  it  was  the  tear- 
ing open  of  the  wound  and  the 
rubbing  of  irritants  into  its 
rawness. 

"  I  can  offer  no  excuse,"  he 
said  painfully.  "  I  am  guilty." 

"  But — but Oh,  Frank, 

I  can't  think  of  you  as  a 
common  thief." 

Through  the  darkness  there 
came  to  him  the  sound  of  her 
sobs,  and  his  nails  dug  into 
his  hands  as  the  impulse  came 
upon  him  to  rush  forward  and 
take  her  in  his  arms.  He 
groaned  aloud  in  the  agony  of 
his  helpless  sympathy. 

The  sobs  died  away,  and  she 
spoke  again. 

"  I  want  to  know — I  must 
know — how  you  came  to  be  a 
thief.  If  there  is  no  excuse  for 
you,  perhaps — perhaps  I  can 
learn  to  hate  you — I  have  a 
right  to  that,  if  I  can.  You 
owe  it  to  me  to  tell  me." 

Though  he  could  not  see  her 
face,  he  knew  that  she  waited 
for  him  to  speak.  He  did  not 
know  how  to  begin.  He  had 
never  attempted  to  analyse  his 
past,  to  picture  to  himself  the 
stages  by  which  he  had  reached 
his  present  position. 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  all 
much  until  I  met  you,"  he 
said  slowly,  hunting  round  in 
his  mind  for  some  loose  end 
in  the  tangle  of  his  thoughts. 
"  I  just  went  ahead.  I  thought 
it  was  a  sporting  risk,  and  I 
made  a  great  point  of  never 
taking — stealing — except  from 
people  who  could  well  afford 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


175 


to  lose.  I'm  not  excusing 
myself.  I  know  now  that 
that  doesn't  matter,  but  there 
it  is." 

"  I  want  to  know  more. 
How  did  you  come  to  begin  1 
Were  you  brought  up  to  steal  ? 
Oh,  I  want  to  know  every- 
thing." 

Honiton  tried  to  concentrate 
his  mind  upon  his  past.  As 
Jocelyn  had  said,  she  had  a 
right  to  know  if  she  wished  it, 
however  much  it  might  hurt 
him  in  the  telling. 

"  I  needed  money,"  he  began 
again  abruptly.  "  I  was  not 
brought  up  to  work,  and  when 
my  father  died — my  mother 
died  years  before — there  was 
much  less  for  me  than  he  had 
led  me  to  expect.  I  was  fit 
for  nothing  but  a  junior  clerk, 
and  that  was  no  use  to  me. 
I  had  been  brought  up  to  spend 
money  freely.  So  I — I  just 
drifted  into  it." 

He  stopped  as  abruptly  as 
he  had  begun.  He  did  not 
want  to  elaborate  the  bald 
story,  to  put  into  it  the  human 
touches  that  might  seem  to 
supply  excuses  for  his  sins. 
Having  realised  their  iniquity, 
he  was  prepared  to  accept  his 
punishment  in  full. 

Perhaps  the  girl  guessed  at 
his  desire  for  self-immolation. 
She  would  not  accept  the  ex- 
planation that  he  had  given. 
She  hungered  for  the  detail  in 
which  she  might  discover  some- 
thing in  extenuation  of  the 
simple  viciousness  that  he  had 
outlined. 

"  Yes  ?  "  she  asked  with  a 
certain  subdued  eagerness. 


"  But — how  did  you  come  to 
drift  into  theft  ?  " 

"  I  read  a  book  about  a 
fellow  like  myself.  He  was 
quite  a  decent  chap,  and  some- 
how the  things  he  did  didn't 
seem  so  very  bad.  He  was  a 
gentleman,  and  a  sportsman 
too.  He  looked  upon  robbery 
as  a  kind  of  sport,  where  he 
took  his  chance  against  the 
police  and  a  term  in  prison. 
I  read  that  book  again  and 
again,  until  I  came  to  look 
on  stealing  as  lightly  as  he 
did." 

He  stopped  to  think. 

"  Yes — go  on,"  said  Joce- 
lyn's  voice  from  the  darkness. 

"  I  had  to  have  money,  or 
lose  my  friends  and  position. 
The  chance  occurred  at  a  re- 
ception. I  saw  a  diamond 
brooch  slip  to  the  floor  in  the 
crush,  unnoticed.  I  picked  it 
up  quickly  and  slipped  it  into 
my  pocket.  I  had  no  scruples. 
The  woman  who  owned  it  was 
loaded  with  diamonds  and  the 
loss  was  nothing  to  her.  After 
that — I  went  on.  I  had  a  flat 
in  the  West  End,  and  many 
wealthy  friends  who  thought 
I  was  quite  well  off,  so  I  was 
never  suspected.  I  did  not 
steal  from  my  friends,  though 
I  made  use  of  information  that 
I  got  through  them.  My  life 
was  idle,  and  I  enjoyed  the 
excitement  of  the  risk  I  took. 
There  is  no  need  to  tell  you  in 
detail  of  the  robberies  I  com- 
mitted. I  have  surely  said 
enough  ?  " 

Jocelyn  did  not  answer  the 
question  in  his  last  words. 
Instead  she  asked  him  another. 


176 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


"  If  you  were  free  now,  would 
you  go  back  to  that  life  ?  " 

"  My  God — no  !  "  exclaimed 
Honiton  with  as  great  and 
genuine  abhorrence  in  his  voice 
as  though  all  that  he  had  con- 
fessed had  been  in  reference  to 
another  than  himself. 

"  But  why  not  ?  You  are 
the  same  man  as  you  were 
then.  If  your  instincts  led  you 
to  do  such  things  then — why 
not  again  f  " 

Jocelyn  spoke  in  a  puzzled 
tone.  She  wanted  to  under- 
stand. The  complexity  of  the 
man's  mind  was  beyond  the 
range  of  her  own  single-minded- 
ness,  and  she  could  not  recon- 
cile its  contradictions. 

"  It  did  not  seem  to  matter 
then.  I  can't  explain — I  can't 
even  understand  how  I  felt 
about  it,  because  I  feel  so 
differently  now." 

Honiton,  too,  was  puzzled 
by  the  inconsistencies  of  his 
feelings.  The  awakening  of 
his  dormant  moral  sense 
through  his  love  for  Jocelyn 
had  rendered  it  impossible  for 
him  to  understand  his  old 
point  of  view,  still  less  for 
him  to  convey  it  to  another. 

"  I  can't  understand  you," 
said  Jocelyn.  "As  it  is  the 
last  time  we  shall  ever  talk 
together,  I  want  to  understand. 
It  will — it  will  make  things 
easier  for  me,  I  think.  When 
you  had  a  chance  to  escape  at 
Malta,  why  did  you  come 
back  ?  " 

"  What  else  could  I  do  !  " 
replied  Honiton  simply.  "  I 
made  a  bargain  with  Brown. 
How  could  I  go  back  on  it  ?  " 


"  You  could  steal  and  yet 
you  could  not  break  your 
word !  "  exclaimed  Jocelyn. 
"  If  you  could  be  so  honour- 
able in  one  way,  how  could 
you  be  so  dishonourable  in 
another  !  " 

"  It  was  different  somehow," 
replied  Honiton  helplessly.  "  I 
have  always  kept  my  word, 
and  tried  to  act  honourably 
to  my  friends.  I  can't  even 
try  to  explain  the  difference." 

He  heard  Jocelyn  sigh  in  the 
darkness. 

"  I  shall  never  understand 
you,"  she  said  piteously. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then 
she  spoke  again,  hesitatingly. 

' '  You  will  be  sent  to  prison  f ' ' 

"That  is  certain.  I  mean 
to  plead  guilty,"  he  answered. 

"  And  when  you  come  out 
again  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  thought.  It 
will  be  years.  But  I  suppose 
I  can  find  work  somewhere — 
in  the  Colonies  probably." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Jocelyn 
in  a  toneless  voice.  "  There  is 
— nothing  more  to  be  said — is 
there  !  " 

"  I  have  told  you  all  I  can," 
he  answered. 

He  saw  her  dark  shape  move 
and  heard  her  light  steps  upon 
the  deck.  She  was  leaving  him 
without  a  word  of  farewell. 
He  listened  as  she  moved  slowly 
away  out  of  his  life,  then, 
desperate,  called — 

"  Jocelyn !  " 

"  Yes  !  " 

She  stopped  and  waited  for 
him  to  speak.  Now  that  he 
had  his  opportunity  he  was 
tongue-tied.  He  hardly  knew 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


177 


what  he  wanted  to  say.  He 
had  called  her  upon  the  im- 
pulse of  the  moment,  desper- 
ately clinging  to  the  last  glimpse 
of  her. 

"  Before  you  go,"  he  stam- 
mered, "  can  you  say  a  kindly 
word — a  word  of  forgiveness  ? 
I  have  no  right  to  ask — I  know 
it.  But  if  only  I  could  think 
that  you  had  ceased  to  be 
bitter  against  me,  it  would 
make  the  future  —  less  bitter 
for  me." 

She  did  not  answer  at  once, 
but  stood  thinking  what  she 
could  say.  In  the  end  it  was 
from  the  hardness  and  narrow- 
ness of  her  youth  that  she  spoke 
— youth  that  would  not  let 
her  waver  from  the  truth,  as 
she  saw  it,  even  to  ease  the 
torture  of  the  man  she  loved. 

"  How  can  I  say  I  forgive 


you,"  she  said  bitterly,  "  when 
I  cannot  even  forgive  myself 
for  having — loved  you  ?  You 
have  made  me  ashamed  of  my 
own  feelings.  At  least  I  will 
not  lie  to  you.  If  I  could  stop 
thinking  of  you — as  before, 
perhaps  I  could  forgive  you. 
I  would  not  then  have  the 
shame  of  loving  unworthily. 
No — I  can  pity  you — I  do  pity 
you,  but  it  would  be  a  lie  to 
say  that  I  forgive  you." 

She  waited  to  hear  if  he 
would  answer  her,  and  then, 
as  he  made  no  attempt  to 
speak,  she  turned  again  to  go. 

"  Good-bye,  Jocelyn,"  she 
heard  him  say,  faintly,  speak- 
ing almost  as  if  he  were  afraid 
that  she  might  hear. 

"  Good-bye,  Frank,"  she  an- 
swered, and  hurried  away — 
afraid  of  herself. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


It  was  not  until  the  morning 
of  the  next  day  that  Peter 
Brown  found  an  opportunity 
to  give  Honiton's  message  to 
Murray  and  Scrymgeour.  They 
received  it  with  their  customary 
lack  of  outward  emotion,  and 
invited  the  detective  to  join 
them  in  a  drink,  an  offer  which 
he  accepted  more  from  a  wish 
to  gratify  them  than  to  quench 
an  imaginary  thirst. 

When  he  had  gone,  and  they 
had  the  smoking-room  to  them- 
selves, they  sat  puffing  earn- 
estly at  their  pipes  in  a  silence 
that  seemed  likely  to  be  per- 
manent, but  which  was  broken 
at  last  by  Scrymgeour. 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXX. 


"  Murray  !  "  he  said  sud- 
denly, with  an  abnormal  ac- 
centuation of  the  middle  con- 
sonants. 

Murray  smoked  on  thought- 
fully for  an  appreciable  time, 
and  then,  taking  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  said  ques- 
tioningly — 

"  Aye  ?  " 

"  A  wus  juist  thinkin'." 

"  If  that  wus  a',  ye  needna 
ha'e  disturbit  me.  A  wus 
thinkin'  masel'." 

"  Aye,  but  this  wus  aboot 
Honiton,"  went  on  Scrymgeour, 
in  no  way  disturbed  by  the 
rebuff. 

"An'  whut  aboot  him  ?    He'll 


178 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


no'  come  oot,  so  there's  an  end 
tae  it." 

"  Aye,  but  A  wus  thinkin' 
that  mebbe  Broon  didna  mak' 
eneuch  o'  the  message  ye  gied 
him,"  went  on  Scrymgeour. 
"  A  thocht  that  mebbe  if  ye 
wus  tae  gang  doon  yersel'  an' 
ax  him  tae  come  up  an'  ha'e 
a  nip  an'  a  crack  he  micht 
think  better  o'  it.  It  maun 
be  gye  dreich  doon  there  a' 
by  his  lane." 

"  Me  gang  doon  !  What  fur, 
me  *  "  demanded  Murray. 
"  You're  the  lad  fur  that, 
Scrymgeour.  Te've  faur  mair 
o'  the  gift  o'  the  gab  nor  me. 
Be  aff  wi'  ye,  an'  see  whut  ye 
can  dae." 

"  Na,  na,  Murray,  ye're 
haverin'.  Te  ken  fine  ye're 
a  faur  better  haun'  than 
me  at  a  ticklish  job  lik' 
this." 

With  characteristic  obstinacy 
they  argued  the  point  hotly, 
until  the  original  kindly  inten- 
tion was  in  danger  of  being  lost 
sight  of.  As  neither  would 
give  in,  the  point  at  issue  had 
to  be  settled  finally  by  the  toss 
of  a  coin,  and  it  fell  to  the  lot 
of  Scrymgeour  to  carry  out 
his  own  suggestion.  He  ac- 
cepted the  inevitable  dourly. 

"  We'll  ha'e  a  nip  first,"  he 
said,  partly  to  fortify  himself 
for  his  task,  but  more  for  the 
sake  of  the  delay. 

"  Ye'll  tak'  care  what  ye 
say,"  said  Murray  anxiously, 
when  they  had  ordered  and 
consumed  the  drink,  and  Scrym- 
geour was  on  the  point  of  de- 
parting reluctantly  on  his 
errand  of  mercy.  "  Ye'll  no' 


gi'e  a  hint  that  ye  ken  ony- 
thing — aboot ' ' 

"  Man,  d'ye  tak'  me  for  a 
fule  ?  "  demanded  Scrymgeour 
indignantly,  and  hurried  off 
with  Murray's  "  A'm  no'  sae 
sure  "  ringing  in  his  ears. 

To  the  apologetic  tap  upon 
his  door  Honiton  answered 
"  Come  in,"  expecting  no  more 
than  the  cabin  steward,  and 
he  was  surprised  by  the  sight 
of  Scrymgeour  in  the  doorway, 
and  inclined  to  resent  the  in- 
trusion, however  well  meant. 

Something  of  this  feeling 
appeared  upon  his  face,  and 
Scrymgeour  was  quick  to  no- 
tice it. 

"  A  hope  A'm  no'  disturbin' 
ye,"  he  began  hastily.  "  Dinna 
blame  me  if  A  am,  for  A've 
juist  brocht  ye  a  message  frae 
Murray." 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Honiton  in  a 
far  from  encouraging  tone. 

"  Aye,  Murray  likes  fine  tae 
get  in  wi'  the  gentry,  ye  ken. 
A  telt  him  ye  michtna  like 
bein'  seen  wi'  twa  auld  Scotch 
stone-masons,  but  he  wud  ha'e 
it. 

"  '  Awa  doon,'  he  ses,  '  an' 
ax  Mr  Honiton  if  he'll  no' 
come  up  an'  ha'e  a  nip  an'  a 
crack.  Tell  him  it's  awfu' 
quait  withoot  him.' 

"  Weel,  mebbe  ye  dinna  ken 
whut  Murray  is,  but  A  juist 
had  tae  dae  whut  he  telt  me. 
Of  coorse,  A  dinna  for  a  meenut 
think  ye  wud  fash  yersel'  tae 
come  up  juist  tae  please  a  daft 
body  lik'  Murray." 

Despite  himself,  Honiton 
could  not  but  be  touched  by 
the  kindly  intent  of  the  pair, 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


179 


and  by  Scrymgeour's  crudely 
delicate  pretence  that  the  fav- 
our was  all  on  his,  Honiton's, 
side. 

"  It's  good  of  you  both  to 
ask  me  to  join  you,"  he  said, 
with  a  melancholy  attempt  at 
his  old  friendly  smile.  "  The 
fact  is,  I've  made  up  my  mind 
to  keep  to  my  cabin  until  we 
reach  Liverpool.  You  may 
have  heard " 

"  Heard  !  "  interrupted 
Scrymgeour  anxiously.  "  Oo 
aye,  we've  heard  plenty,  but 
as  they  say  at  hame,  '  If  ye 
believe  a'  ye  hear  ye'll  eat  a' 
ye  see.'  We  heard  ye  were 
no'  weel,  but  ye  dinna  seem 
that  bad  but  ye  cud  dae  wi' 
a  drap  o'  whuskey  an'  a  crack 
wi'  twa  auld  Scotchmen." 

As  Honiton's  face  grew  less 
hostile  Scrymgeour's  courage 
increased,  and  he  began  to 
shelve  the  fiction  of  the  awe- 
inspiring  Murray. 

Without  hurting  his  feelings 
Honiton  did  not  see  how  to 
refuse,  and  the  intention  was 
so  genuinely  kindly  that  he 
could  not  but  hesitate  to  re- 
pulse it.  He  attempted  once 
more  to  state  his  position 
clearly. 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you 
both,"  he  said,  "  but  I  can't 
mix  with  people  now.  It  is 
perfectly  well  known — even  my 
steward  knows — that  I  am ' ' 

"A'll  be  thinkin'  in  a  meenit 
that  ye  dinna  want  tae  ha'e 
ony  clash  wi'  me  an'  Murray," 
Scrymgeour  interrupted  again, 
attempting  a  tone  of  injury 
and  gentle  melancholy.  "  If 
that's  yer  meanin',  Mr  Honiton, 


juist  say  it  oot  richt,  an'  A'll 
tak'  yer  message  back  tae 
Murray." 

Honiton  gave  in.  Any  fur- 
ther hesitation  would  have  been 
an  insult  to  the  well-meaning 
if  over-insistent  Scrymgeour — 
and,  after  all,  it  mattered  little 
to  Honiton.  He  might  as  well 
endure  his  misery  in  the  com- 
pany of  these  kindly  Scotchmen 
as  alone. 

"  You  know  it  isn't  that," 
he  said,  with  a  second  and 
more  successful  attempt  at  his 
old  smile.  "  My  only  reason 
for  keeping  by  myself  has  been 
the  fear  of  butting  in  where 
I'm  not  wanted.  I  believe  you 
will  really  be  glad  to  see  me — 
even  though  I'm  under  a  cloud 
— so  I'll  come." 

"  That's  the  lad  !  "  exclaimed 
Scrymgeour  with  the  nearest 
thing  to  a  show  of  enthusiasm 
of  which  his  wooden  face  was 
capable.  "  Man,  A'm  that 
pleased  A  thocht  o'  comin' !  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  Murray 
who  forced  you  to  come  against 
your  will,"  said  Honiton  mis- 
chievously. 

For  all  his  weight  of  trouble 
he  could  not  but  be  amused 
at  Scrymgeour's  opportunism. 

"  Man,  that  was  juist  whut 
ye  micht  ca'  a  roose,"  said 
the  latter,  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eyes  that  belied  the  solem- 
nity of  his  countenance.  "  It 
did  Murray  nae  hairm,  for  he 
wasna  here  tae  ken,  an'  it 
micht  hae  been  o'  conseeder- 
able  advantage  tae  masel'  if 
A'd  angered  ye." 

"  I  see,"  said  Honiton.  "  But 
you  needn't  have  been  afraid 


180 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


that  your  kindly  thought  would 
annoy  me.  I  daresay  there  are 
few  besides  yourselves  on  the 
Bedouin  who  would  care  to  be 
seen  with " 

"  Ye '11  be  up  in  a  while, 
then,"  said  Scrymgeour,  the 
rudeness  of  his  interruption 
covering  an  instinctive  delicacy 
which  his  rough  appearance 
would  not  have  suggested. 
"  We'll  baith  be  expec'in'  ye." 

"Not  until  later.  I'll  look 
in  on  you  some  time  after 
dinner." 

"A'  richt,  lad.  Guid  luck 
tae  ye." 

When  Honiton  was  again 
alone,  he  felt  a  tightening  of 
the  muscles  of  his  throat  at 
thought  of  the  genuine  sym- 
pathy and  kindliness  that  lay 
at  the  back  of  the  invitation 
he  had  just  received.  Two  at 
least  of  his  fellow-men  were 
prepared  to  pity  rather  than 
condemn.  However  dark  his 
despair,  it  could  not  but  be 
lightened — if  only  a  shade — 
by  the  knowledge. 

Scrymgeour,  meantime,  re- 
turned to  the  smoking-room 
internally  triumphant,  though 
outwardly  expressionless. 

"  Weel  ?  "  said  Murray,  after 
allowing  a  decent  interval  to 
elapse  so  that  he  could  not  be 
accused  of  impatience. 

"  It's  a'  richt.  He's  comin' 
the  nicht,"  announced  Scrym- 
geour carelessly.  "  Wull  ye 
ha'e  a  dram  t  " 

"  It's  ma  turn,"  said  Murray 
reluctantly.  "  Ye  canna  be  aye 
standin'  the  drinks." 

"Weel,  mebbe  ye're  richt," 
agreed  Scrymgeour,  whose  orig- 


inal suggestion  had  really  been 
intended  as  a  hint,  for  they 
were  both  great  sticklers  for 
the  strict  rotation  of  the  finance 
of  their  hobby. 

"  Wus  he  s weired  tae  come?" 
asked  Murray,  after  another 
decent  interval  during  which 
the  drams  had  been  ordered 
and  served. 

"  He  wusna  juist  fa'in'  ower 
himsel'  wi'  enthusiasm,"  re- 
plied Scrymgeour,  "  but  after 
a  bit  crack  A  brocht  him  roon'. 
A  wus  fou  o'  persuasion,  Mur- 
ray." 

"  Aye,  A  ken  ye,"  replied  his 
friend  ambiguously. 

By  evening  the  pair  were 
restless  and  fidgety,  though 
neither  would  have  admitted 
to  the  other  that  he  had  given 
a  further  thought  to  the  coming 
visit.  After  dinner  they  settled 
in  their  usual  corner  of  the 
smoking-room,  which,  as  usual, 
they  had  to  themselves. 

Honiton  was  a  long  time  in 
joining  them.  Much  as  he 
appreciated  their  sympathy,  he 
was  sorry  that  he  had  given 
his  promise.  He  was  far  from 
being  in  the  mood  to  chatter 
idly  to  them  as  he  had  done 
occasionally  during  the  early 
part  of  the  voyage.  He  walked 
the  deck,  postponing  his  entry 
into  the  smoking-room  as  long 
as  possible.  He  was  not  a 
heavy  drinker,  and  he  knew 
that  once  he  had  joined  Scrym- 
geour and  Murray  he  must 
keep  their  pace  or  risk  giving 
offence. 

They  awaited  his  coming 
with  growing  anxiety,  which 
they  strove  to  hide  from  one 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


181 


another  with  ludicrous  elabora- 
tion. Their  heavy  gold  watches 
were  in  frequent  but  surrep- 
titious request. 

Scrymgeour  proved  himself 
the  weaker  vessel.  He  spoke 
first. 

"  He's  gye  late.  A  doot  he's 
no  comin'." 

Murray  looked  at  his  friend 
with  a  certain  contempt.  He 
hated  a  man  whose  emotions 
were  so  lightly  controlled.  He 
attempted  an  expression  of 
puzzlement  gradually  changing 
to  comprehension. 

"  Oh,  aye  ;  ye're  speakin'  o' 
Honiton.  Man,  he'd  clean 
slipped  ma  mind,"  he  said 
mendaciously.  "  He'll  no'  be 
comin'  noo." 

His  words  were  disproved 
almost  immediately  afterwards, 
for  Honiton  entered  with  some- 
thing of  his  old  attractive  smile 
on  his  face.  He  had  deter- 
mined that  it  was  no  use  ac- 
cepting the  invitation  he  had 
been  given  unless  he  made 
some  attempt  to  shelve  his 
troubles  and  enter  for  the 
moment  into  the  spirit  of  the 
smoking-room. 

"  Well,  old  friends,  and  how 
goes  it  ?  "  he  said  genially,  as 
he  crossed  the  room  and  sat 
down  between  Murray  and 
Scrymgeour. 

They  were  as  nervous  as  two 
maiden  ladies  called  upon  to 
entertain  royalty.  Each  looked 
to  the  other  to  speak,  and  each 
scowled  at  the  other's  inability 
to  find  words. 

Honiton  noticed  their  em- 
barrassment. 

"We'll   have   a   drink,   eh? 


I     suppose     it's     whisky,     as 
usual !  " 

"  Na,  na.  This  is  wi'  me," 
said  Scrymgeour  emphatically. 
"Is  yours  whuskey?  Better 
ha'e  a  double  yin.  They're 
awfu'  peekit  wee  things  the 
nips  they  gi'e  ye  here." 

Honiton  protested  as  vigor- 
ously as  he  could,  but  the 
order  was  given  in  spite  of 
him  for  "  glesses — no'  haulve 
yins."  The  steward,  on  seeing 
Honiton,  seemed  to  hesitate 
and  be  on  the  point  of  refusing 
to  degrade  himself  by  serving 
a  criminal,  but  the  Scotchmen 
were  his  bes*  customers,  and 
he  did  not  think  it  worth 
while  to  risk  the  tip  that  he 
expected  at  the  end  of  the 
voyage. 

Honiton,  however,  was  con- 
scious of  the  hesitation,  and 
it  hurt.  It  was  a  foretaste  of 
what  he  must  expect  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  The  strong 
whisky  ran  through  his  veins 
quickly,  and  enabled  him  to 
throw  off  for  the  moment  the 
gloom  in  which  he  was  wrapped. 

Conversation  was  at  first 
difficult  —  scrappy.  Murray, 
jealous  of  Scrymgeour's  suc- 
cessful opening  over  the  drinks, 
attempted  another  of  his  own, 
using  the  weather  as  a  subject. 
It  did  not  lead  far,  however. 
Then  Scrymgeour,  encouraged 
by  his  initial  success,  suggested 
cigars,  and  a  few  of  the  rough 
edges  of  their  mutual  embar- 
rassment were  rubbed  off  in 
the  solemn  choosing  of  the 
imagined  best  from  the  box. 

Honiton 's  heart  warmed  to 
them  in  their  clumsy  efforts  to 


182 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


make  him  feel  at  his  ease, 
though  the  very  need  for  these 
efforts  was  in  itself  a  reminder 
of  his  miserable  plight. 

With  the  aid  of  the  whisky 
he  had  drunk  he  was  able  to 
open  up  and  be  something  like 
his  old  self.  He  talked  and 
laughed  freely,  and  gradually 
put  his  two  hosts  at  iheir  ease. 

"  Man,  it's  gran'  tae  see  ye 
back  wi'  us  again,"  said  Mur- 
ray, when  the  embarrassment 
had  at  last  worn  off. 

"  It  is  that,"  agreed  Scrym- 
geour.  "  Ye  canna  think  whut 
A  ha'e  tae  thole  wi'  naebody 
but  Murray  tae  clash  wi'  a' 
day." 

"It's  the  ither  wye  roon'," 
retorted  Murray.  "  YeVe  nae 
conception  o'  the  blethers  that 
comes  oot  o'  Scrymgeour  whiles. 
There's  times  when  he's  juist 
hoachin'  wi'  havers,  an'  nae- 
body but  me  tae  listen  til  him." 

Once  started,  their  tongues 
wagged  freely,  and  Honiton 
had  to  admit  that  they  took 
him  out  of  himself.  A  second 
round  of  drinks  was  called  for, 
and  was  partially  consumed 
when  the  door  opened  and  the 
Honourable  Steven  Corris  en- 
tered. 

He  looked  across  at  the 
group  in  the  corner,  and  his 
face  assumed  a  look  of  intense 
disgust. 

"  Well,  I'm  damned  !  "  he 
exclaimed  aloud ;  "  this  is 
about  the  limit !  " 

Honiton  felt  a  cold  shiver 
run  over  him.  He  did  not 
wish  for  trouble,  and  if  he 
made  it,  he  knew  he  would  be 
quite  in  the  wrong.  He  wanted 


to  sneak  away  and  hide  him- 
self. 

Corris  threw  himself  down 
contemptuously  on  a  chair  and 
rang  for  the  steward. 

The  faces  of  Murray  and 
Scrymgeour  were  like  thunder- 
clouds. Scrymgeour  looked  at 
his  friend  meaningly,  and  jerked 
his  head  in  the  direction  of 
Corris. 

Murray  rose,  and  Honiton, 
guessing  his  intention  and  des- 
perately anxious  to  avoid 
trouble,  tried  to  detain  him. 
Murray  shook  off  the  restrain- 
ing hand  and  walked  across  to 
Corris.  Bending  over  him,  with 
his  gnarled  hands  resting  upon 
a  small  table,  he  spoke  in  a 
low  but  ominous  voice. 

"  Did  ye  say  onything  ?  " 

His  eyelids  opened  wide,  so 
that  the  white  could  be  seen 
completely  surrounding  the  iris, 
and  the  effect  was  that  of  a 
vicious  glare. 

Corris  looked  up  at  him  with 
a  mixture  of  insolence  and 
misgiving. 

"  I  said  this  was  about  the 
limit,  and  it  is,"  he  replied, 
nodding  across  towards  where 
Honiton  sat  pale-faced  and 
mortified. 

"  Weel,  A  wud  juist  warn 
ye  tae  keep  yer  opeenions  tae 
yersel',  ma  lad,  if  ye  dinna 
want  a  bash  in  the  jaw." 

"  I've  a  perfect  right  to  say 
what  I  think,"  retorted  the 
Honourable  Steven,  his  voice 
rising  to  a  shrill  and  querulous 
treble  which  could  be  heard 
easily  across  the  room.  "It's 
a  bally  scandal  that  a  fellow 
can't  come  into  a  public  room 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


183 


on  the  ship  without  butting  up 
against  an  outsider  like  that." 

Honiton  waited  for  no  more. 
He  was  sick  at  heart  with  what 
he  had  already  heard.  He  had 
no  wish  to  be  present  at  a 
vulgar  altercation  in  which  he 
could  only  receive  more  bitter 
thrusts.  He  pressed  Scrym- 
geour's  hand  silently  and  went 
hurriedly  from  the  room,  re- 
gretting whole-heartedly  that 
he  had  ever  laid  himself  open 
to  the  affront  that  he  had  re- 
ceived. 

He  paced  the  darkness  with- 
out, trembling  at  the  rawness 
of  his  sores.  This  was  what  he 
had  to  expect  even  when  he 
had  paid  his  forfeit,  and  was 
set  free  upon  the  world  again. 
The  vicious  self-righteousness 
of  Corris  brought  his  true  posi- 
tion home  to  him  as  he  had 
never  felt  it  before.  He  was 
an  outcast  for  life.  Even 
under  another  name,  he  would 
go  in  continual  fear  of  recog- 
nition. 

He  walked  the  deck  long  in 
his  misery  before  he  could  bring 
himself  to  join  Peter  Brown 
in  the  cabin  below. 

Meanwhile  his  assailant  was 
having  none  too  pleasant  a 
time  in  the  smoking-room.  No 
sooner  had  Honiton  left  than 
Scrymgeour  rose  and  joined 
Murray,  as  he  stood  over  the 
Honourable  Steven. 

"D'ye  ken  what  ye  are  ?  " 
he  demanded  harshly,  his  hard 
face  lined  with  a  cold  controlled 
anger.  "  Ye're  juist  a  dirrty 
mess,  that's  whut  ye  are.  Fur 


twa  pins  A'd  wring  yer  scraggy 
neck  fur  ye,  an'  Guid  kens  it 
wud  be  fur  the  guid  o'  yer 
fellow-men." 

"  Men  !  "  cried  Murray. 
"  Dinna  ca'  him  a  man.  It 
mak's  ye  doot  the  omneecience 
o'  Providence  tae  think  he 
wusna  still-born.  Na,  na,  dinna 
get  up,  ma  lad,  ye're  no'  gaun 
yet.  Ye've  got  tae  hear  mair 
aboot  yer  chairacter  first." 

The  Honourable  Steven,  a 
hunted  look  in  his  eyes,  made 
an  effort  to  rise,  but  was 
pushed  back  into  his  seat  by 
a  knotted,  calloused  hand. 
There  was  no  escape  for  him, 
for  both  Murray  and  Scrym- 
geour were  between  him  and 
the  door. 

"  Let  me  go,"  he  demanded, 
with  a  mixture  of  truculence 
and  trepidation. 

"  Ye're  no'  worth  keepin',  for 
yersel',"  replied  Murray,  "  if 
ye  are  an  hoonerable.  Me  and 
Scrymgeour  were  mebbe  no' 
sae  weel  brocht  up,  but  before 
ayther  o'  us  wur  you,  we'd 
rayther  be  flyppit  an'  be  oor- 
sel's  inside  oot." 

There  was  much  more  that 
they  said  to  him,  but  very 
little  that  is  printable,  and  that 
little  the  least  pungent.  Al- 
though it  may  have  relieved 
their  feelings,  it  had  little  effect 
upon  the  Honourable  Steven 
Corris,  who  understood  it  not 
at  all.  He  was,  however,  con- 
scious of  a  great  relief  when  at 
last  he  escaped,  for  he  realised 
that  he  had  been  within  an  ace 
of  a  very  rough  handling. 


184 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


Captain  Spedley  announced 
at  breakfast  on  the  last  day 
of  the  voyage  that  the  Bedouin 
would  arrive  in  the  Mersey  too 
late  for  the  passengers  to  get 
ashore  until  next  day.  There 
was  not  one  who  heard  him 
but  was  heartily  glad  to  feel 
that  when  twenty-four  hours 
had  elapsed  they  would  be  free 
from  the  gloom  of  the  ship — 
free  to  forget,  in  fresh  interests, 
the  melancholy  and,  for  some, 
more  than  melancholy  voyage. 

Peter  Brown  conveyed  the 
news  to  Honiton  when  break- 
fast was  over.  It  could  hardly 
be  expected  that  the  prisoner 
would  find  pleasure  in  the  end 
of  the  voyage,  which  meant 
for  him  trial  and  inevitable 
condemnation,  yet  such  had 
been  the  misery  of  the  past 
few  days,  that  he  was  actually 
relieved  at  the  thought  of  soli- 
tude behind  bars. 

"  Brown,  old  friend,  you  are 
always  doing  me  favours,"  he 
said.  "  I  wonder  if  I  can  count 
on  you  for  another — probably 
the  last  1  " 

The  detective  smiled  depre- 
catingly. 

"  I  haven't  favoured  you  so 
very  much,  except  in  the  first 
instance,  at  Cairo,"  he  said. 
"  And  what  a  disaster  that  has 
proved  itself  !  What  is  it  you 
want  me  to  do  ?  If  it  is  in 
my  power  and  doesn't  clash 
with  my  duty,  you  can  count 
on  it  as  done." 

"  Get  me  away  from  the  ship 
quietly,  that  is  all,"  said  Honi- 


ton with  great  earnestness.  "  I 
can't  face — the  others — again. 
You  can  easily  wangle  it,  I'm 
sure,  so  that  we  are  allowed  to 
leave  in  the  early  hours  of  the 
morning,  before  the  rest  of 
the  passengers  have  left  their 
cabins." 

Peter  Brown  did  not  answer 
at  once.  He  was  thinking  of 
Joan  Conliffe.  Unable  to  get 
in  touch  with  her  through  the 
stewardess,  he  had  counted 
upon  an  opportunity  of  a  fare- 
well word  with  her  before  she 
went  on  shore.  If  he  granted 
Honiton's  request  she  would  be 
gone  out  of  his  life — probably 
for  ever.  The  thought  was  very 
bitter  to  him. 

Honiton  saw  his  hesitation, 
and  became  more  urgent. 

"  You  won't  let  me  down, 
Brown  ?  I  can't  bear  the  con- 
tempt I  can  picture  on  faces 
that  have  always  smiled  on 
me.  I've  had  one  experience 
of  the  charity  of  my  fellow- 
men.  I  don't  want  any  more. 
It  isn't  only  myself  either, 
Brown.  I  want  to  spare — her 
— the  sight  of  me  being  led  off 
— to  prison." 

That  was  in  Peter  Brown's 
mind  also,  and  complicated  his 
decision.  He  pitied  the  girl 
intensely,  and  would^not  cause 
her  unnecessary  pain.  He  might 
have  refused  Honiton  had  his 
appeal  been  based  on  wholly 
selfish  reasons,  but  his  heart 
went  out  to  him  when  his  en- 
treaty was  on  behalf  of  Jocelyn. 

After  all,  what  could  he  gain 


192.1.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


185 


from  a  few  more  words  with — 
a  last  look  at — Joan  Conliffe  ? 
Only  an  added  heartache.  She 
did  not  care  to  see  him.  Her 
silence  proved  it.  He  might 
as  well  accept  his  rejection 
philosophically.  He  could  gain 
nothing  by  remaining,  but  could 
help  others  by  agreeing  to 
Honiton's  request. 

"  All  right,  Honiton,"  he 
said  at  last.  "I'll  see  the 
captain  and  find  out  if  it  can 
be  done." 

Honiton  had  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  this  concession 
meant  more  to  the  detective 
than  a  little  inconvenience,  or 
his  gratitude  would  have  been 
much  deeper. 

"  I  can't  thank  you  enough, 
Brown,"  he  said.  "  I'm  sorry 
to  get  you  up  so  early,  but  it 
means  far  more  to  me  than  an 
hour  or  two  longer  in  your 
berth  can  mean  to  you." 

Peter  Brown  sighed,  and 
made  no  answer.  He  had  com- 
mitted himself,  and  only  when 
it  was  too  late  did  he  realise 
how  much  he  had  counted  on 
that  last  meeting.  What  he 
had  expected  he  did  not  know 
rightly,  but — Joan  Conliffe  had 
undoubtedly  been  in  sympathy 
with  him  at  one  time,  and  there 
had  lingered  in  his  mind  a  cer- 
tain half -formed,  half -admitted 
hope  that  he  did  not  dare  to 
consider  with  himself  openly. 

He  had  little  trouble  in 
making  the  arrangement  that 
Honiton  desired.  Captain  Sped- 
ley  had  taken  a  liking  to  the 
detective  since  the  interview 
in  which  he  had  pleaded  the 
cause  of  Sir  Evan  and  Lady 

VOL.   OCX. — NO.  MCCLXX. 


Pilth,  and  was  quite  ready  to 
oblige  him  where  he  could. 

"  If  you  can  get  round  the 
Customs'  people,  you're  wel- 
come to  take  the  poor  devil 
away  quietly,"  he  said.  "  You 
are  so  damned  good-hearted, 
I  don't  know  how  you  ever 
manage  to  get  any  one  locked 
up.  Look  at  these  Filths  now. 
But  for  you  they  would  have 
been  in  a  nasty  hole.  I  should 
have  had  my  own  back  on 
them,  I  assure  you." 

"  There  will  be  no  further 
trouble  for  them,  I  hope  ?  " 
asked  Peter  Brown  anxiously. 

"  No.  Between  ourselves, 
the  rumour  has  got  about 
among  the  crew  that  poor  Con- 
liffe did  pinch  those  diamonds, 
and  took  them  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea  with  him.  The  man 
at  the  wheel  caught  the  glint 
of  them.  We  can  let  it  go  at 
that.  It  can  do  Conliffe  no 
harm  now,  and  it's  the  easiest 
way  out,  eh  ?  " 

The  detective  agreed,  though 
he  felt  the  injustice  to  Charlie 
Conliffe's  widow  in  letting  her 
husband's  name  remain  under 
the  stigma  of  a  crime.  Better 
that,  however,  than  that  Sir 
Evan  Pilth  should  be  publicly 
shamed  at  the  end  of  an  hon- 
ourable career. 

Later  in  the  day  he  had 
evidence  that  Sir  Evan  was 
grateful  for  his  intervention. 
Looking  wonderfully  subdued, 
and  strangely  older  than  at 
the  beginning  of  the  voyage, 
he  came  to  where  Peter  Brown 
sat  solitary  on  deck. 

"  I  may  not  again  have  the 
opportunity  of  talking  to  you 

G  2 


186 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


in  confidence,  Mr  Brown,"  he 
began  nervously,  "  and  I  wish 
to  express  my  extreme  in- 
debtedness to  you  for  the — 
ah — kindness  and  consideration 
you  have  shown  to  Lady  Pilth 
and  myself." 

"  Please  don't  speak  of  it, 
Sir  Evan,"  replied  the  detec- 
tive, as  embarrassed  as  the 
other. 

"  But  I  must  speak  of  it, 
sir,"  said  Sir  Evan,  with  just 
the  ghost  of  his  old  pomposity. 
"  Barely  have  I  been  treated 
with  greater  tact  and  delicacy, 
and  it  is  no  less  than  my  duty 
to  acknowledge  the  debt  I  owe 
you.  I  should  like  you  to 
believe,"  he  went  on  with  less 
confidence  of  manner,  but 
greater  earnestness,  "  that — 
ah — Lady  Filth's  action  on  the 
—  ah  —  occasion  which  yon 
brought  to  my  notice  was  a — 
an  isolated  one,  and  quite  out 
of  keeping  with  my  whole 
knowledge  of  her  character." 

"  Aye,  I  believe  it,  Sir  Evan. 
Women  are  strange  creatures. 
You  can  tell,  shrewdly  enough, 
what  a  man  will  do,  if  you've 
known  him  for  a  month,  but 
a  woman — not  if  you've  lived 
with  her  a  lifetime." 

"  It  was  exceedingly  strange 
to  me,"  went  on  Sir  Evan, 
without  commenting  on  Peter 
Brown's  statement,  "  that  you 
should  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion you  did,  while  I  myself 
remained  in  total  ignorance  of 
the  truth." 

Peter  Brown  hid  a  faint 
smile  beneath  the  long  fingers 
of  his  bony  hand. 

"  A   matter   of   perspective, 


Sir  Evan,"  he  said,  generously 
refraining  from  the  truth. 
"  You  are  too  close  to  her." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right," 
agreed  Sir  Evan,  pleased  with 
any  explanation  that  removed 
the  imputation  of  density  frcm 
himself. 

Peter  Brown  parted  from 
him,  convinced  that  as  the  in- 
cident faded  into  the  past  he 
would  contrive  to  ignore  if  not 
forget  it,  and  quickly  regain 
the  bulk  of  his  grotesque  faith 
in  himself,  and  all  that  per- 
tained unto  the  name  of  Pilth. 

Jocelyn  Upton  also  sought 
out  the  detective  on  that  last 
afternoon  aboard. 

"  You  take  too  little  exer- 
cise, Mr  Brown,"  she  said, 
stopping  before  him  as  he  sat 
doubled  up  in  his  deck-chair, 
pipe  in  mouth,  thinking  of  the 
woman  who  remained  secluded 
below.  "  You  should  come  and 
walk  the  deck  with  me." 

She  spoke  lightly,  for  the 
benefit  of  those  who  were  near, 
but  her  eyes  told  him  that  she 
wished  to  talk  to  him  alone. 

"  I  should  like  to,  Miss  Up- 
ton," he  said,  unfolding  him- 
self, and  rising  awkwardly. 

"  I  want  to  know,  Mr  Brown, 
what — what  they  will  do  with 
him,"  she  said,  when  she  had 
led  him  to  the  windward  side 
of  the  deck,  where  no  chairs 
were  placed,  and  she  felt  free 
from  observation. 

As  Peter  Brown  did  not  reply 
at  once,  she  went  on  eagerly — 

"  I  have  tried  to  take  no 
interest — to  believe  it  is  noth- 
ing to  me,  but  I  must  know. 
Will  he  be— get— long  ?  " 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


187 


"  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  a 
pretty  long  term,  my  dear," 
replied  the  detective. 

"  How  long — years  ?  " 

"  Yes,  years.  A  great  deal 
depends  upon  the  Judge.  It 
may  be  three — five — even  ten 
years,  perhaps.  One  can  never 
tell  with  them.  A  conviction, 
I  believe,  is  certain.  The  evi- 
dence is  overwhelming." 

"  The  evidence  doesn't  mat- 
ter. He  told  me  that  he  will 
plead  guilty." 

"  Guilty  !  You  must  not 
tell  me  things  like  that, 
child.  Eemember  I  am  the 
detective  in  charge  of  him." 

"  What  does  it  matter,"  said 
Jocelyn  wearily.  "  He  will 
plead  guilty.  Will  that  make 
any  difference,  Mr  Brown  ?  " 

"  It  may — but,  again,  one 
can  never  tell.  It  all  depends 
on  the  view  the  Judge  takes. 
You — you  have  not  been  able 
to  put  him  out  of  your  mind, 
then,  Miss  Upton  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  tried,  and  per- 
haps— perhaps  I  may  succeed 
in  time.  It  is  too — raw,  just 
now.  I  lie  awake — thinking  of 
him  in  convict's  clothes — with 
no  one  to  talk  to,  and  the 
time  seeming  to  him  as  if 
it  would  never  end.  I  know 
he  deserves  no  sympathy 
from  me.  He  doesn't,  does 
he,  Mr  Brown  ?  "  she  broke 
off  piteously. 

"  God  knows  what  he  de- 
serves," replied  Peter  Brown, 
a  perplexed  frown  on  his  brow. 
"  I  only  know  that  I  pity  him 
from  my  heart.  If  I  had  a  son, 
there's  no  one  I  would  like  to 
see  him  grow  up  like,  more  than 


this    man — but    for    the    one 
thing." 

"  And  that,  I  believe,  he 
will  never  do  again,"  said 
Jocelyn  eagerly. 

Peter  Brown  looked  at  her 
discerningly.  Her  tone  warned 
him  that  the  love  she  had  con- 
fessed for  Frank  Honiton  was 
still  warm  in  her,  and  he  be- 
came afraid. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said  gravely, 
"  you  have  a  bitter  time  before 
you  until  you  forget  him.  You 
must  make  that  your  aim. 
When  you  are  home  in  Eng- 
land, you  must  not  brood  over 
this.  You  must  rise  above  it, 
until  the  time  comes  when  you 
can  look  back  on  the  Bedouin 
and  its  passengers  without  re- 
gret, but  with  a  generous  sym- 
pathy." 

She  was  crying  softly  before 
he  ceased  to  speak,  and  he 
patted  her  shoulder  in  a  clumsy 
attempt  to  soothe  her.  She 
shook  him  off  with  a  sudden 
strange  petulance  that  he  did 
not  understand. 

"  Leave  me,"  she  sobbed, 
her  back  turned  to  him,  and 
her  face  hidden  in  her  hands. 
"  I  am  not — I  can't — talk  any 
more." 

Peter  Brown  went  quietly 
away,  his  mind  in  a  state  of 
perplexity.  He  wandered  rest- 
lessly over  the  ship,  absorbed 
in  a  strange  confusion  of 
thoughts,  his  own  hopeless  de- 
votion to  Joan  Conliffe  min- 
gling with  the  compassion  that 
he  felt  for  Honiton  and  for 
Jocelyn. 

.  -Gradually,  however,  his  own 
personal  feelings  emerged  clear 


188 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


from  the  confusion,  and  he 
forgot  everything  but  his  over- 
whelming desire  to  see  once 
again  the  woman  whom  he 
loved.  He  felt  that  he  must 
make  one  more  effort  to  ap- 
proach her,  even  at  the  risk 
of  another  and  final  rebuff. 

He  sat  down  in  the  saloon, 
and,  after  long  thought,  wrote 
her  a  letter. 

"  DEAR  MRS  CONLIFFE, — Cir- 
cumstances have  arisen  which 
will  cause  me  to  leave  the  ship 
without  having  an  opportunity 
of  saying  good-bye  to  you  in 
the  morning.  I  do  not  think 
you  realise  all  that  this  means 
to  me.  I  feel  that  you  and  I 
had  a  certain  sympathy  towards 
each  other,  which,  to  me,  was 
an  inestimable  pleasure.  Will 
you  see  me  this  evening,  if 
only  for  a  moment  1  I  ask  it 
as  a  favour,  and  I  think  if  you 
knew  how  earnestly  I  long  to 
see  you — to  hear  your  voice — 
once  again,  you  would  not  be 
so  cruel  as  to  refuse  me. — 
Yours  sincerely, 

"  PETER  BROWN." 

He  read  it  through  time  and 
again  hesitatingly.  He  felt 
that  it  was  stilted,  artificial, 
yet  in  a  way  it  expressed  what 
he  wanted  to  say,  and  summon- 
ing all  his  determination,  he 
sealed  it  and  went  in  search 
of  the  stewardess. 

For  over  two  hours  he 
awaited  his  sentence,  in  a  fever 
of  uncertainty,  and  when  it 
came  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 


very  delay  was  an  additional 
affront.    There  was  no  heading, 

"  I  cannot  see  you. — J.  0." 

That  was  all,  and  it  had 
taken  her  two  hours  to  send 
him  the  message.  Surely  she 
had  deliberately  tortured  him 
by  allowing  him  to  linger  so 
long  in  uncertainty  ! 

Yet,  could  he  have  known 
it,  those  two  hours  were  more 
than  nights  of  torture  to  Joan 
Conliffe.  All  her  desire  was 
for  this  man  whom  she  be- 
lieved to  be  a  thief.  There 
were  moments  when  it  all  but 
mastered  her,  when  she  took 
the  pen  in  her  hand  to  call 
him  to  her  side,  and  tell  him 
that — whatever  he  had  done 
— she  loved  him.  Then  before 
her  eyes  would  come  the  re- 
production of  that  scene  in  her 
cabin.  She  would  see  him 
dangling  the  glittering  necklace 
before  Charlie — the  necklace  he 
had  stolen,  and  thereby  driven 
her  husband  to  drink  and  dis- 
aster. Should  she  see  again 
her  husband's  murderer  ?  The 
pen  fell  from  her  hands. 

She  struggled  with  the  temp- 
tation while  he  waited,  and 
then  her  virtue  won.  "  I  can- 
not see  you. — J.  C." 

And  so  it  came  about  that 
the  prisoner  and  his  guard 
slipped  silently  from  the  Bed- 
ouin in  the  dawn,  each  leaving 
behind  him  the  only  being 
whom  he  loved,  and  each  be- 
lieving firmly  that  he  would 
never  see  her  again. 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


189 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


Though  the  unhappy  pair 
succeeded  in  getting  away  from 
the  Bedouin  before  the  rest  of 
the  passengers  were  awake, 
various  factors  prevented  them 
from  leaving  for  London  until 
considerably  later  in  the  morn- 
ing. There  was  delay  at  the 
Customs,  a  further  delay 
at  police  headquarters,  where 
Peter  Brown  reported  in  the 
expectation  of  finding  a 
letter  of  instructions,  and  on 
arrival  at  the  station  the 
best  morning  train  had  just 
left. 

The  pair  breakfasted  together 
gloomily  in  the  railway  hotel, 
intent  upon  their  own  thoughts, 
from  which  they  derived  little 
satisfaction.  Hardly  a  word 
was  spoken  throughout  the 
meal. 

They  boarded  their  train 
finally  just  before  eleven,  and, 
until  a  moment  before  it  left 
the  station,  had  the  carriage 
to  themselves.  Then,  as  the 
whistle  blew  and  the  train 
jarred  into  motion,  a  porter 
rushed  up  and  shepherded  three 
ladies  dexterously  into  the  car- 
riage. 

"  The  luggage  is  in  the  back 
van,  ma'am,"  he  shouted,  run- 
ning alongside,  concerned  for 
his  rapidly  disappearing  gra- 
tuity. 

The  train  gathered  speed  and 
he  dropped  behind,  a  convinced 
misogynist,  while  the  incomers 
were  still  fumbling  for  their 
purses. 

The  late-comers   were  Joan 


Conliffe,    Jocelyn    Upton,    and 
her  mother. 

The  occasion  was  one  of  the 
most  painful  embarrassment. 
Honiton  shrank  back  into  his 
corner  like  some  wretch  aroused 
from  an  imagined  security  to 
find  the  rack  or  the  thumb- 
screws awaiting  him.  Fate  had 
cast  him  into  the  very  company 
that  he  had  taken  such  pains 
to  avoid.  His  body  became 
clammy  with  shame. 

Peter  Brown  felt  a  sudden 
leap  in  his  pulses  at  sight  of  the 
woman  whom  he  had  believed 
to  be  gone  from  his  life  for 
ever.  He  forgot  Honiton  and 
the  distress  that  this  meeting 
must  cause  him,  and  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  Joan  Conliffe  as 
though  lif  e  itself  depended  upon 
the  manner  of  her  greeting. 

She  did  not  greet  him.  A 
tremor  ran  through  her  frame 
as  she  recognised  the  man 
whom  she  believed  she  should 
hate,  and  her  eyes  fell  away 
from  his  as  if  in  fear — fear 
that  they  might  betray  that 
which  she  tried  to  hide,  even 
from  herself. 

Jocelyn  Upton's  face  went 
white  beneath  her  veil  as  she 
saw  the  figure  shrinking  in  the 
corner,  yet  in  her  eyes  an  eager 
light  appeared  that  hinted  at 
something  other  than  distaste 
at  the  meeting.  Her  lips  parted, 
and  she  would  have  spoken  had 
not  her  mother  risen  to  the 
occasion  in  a  fashion  that  no 
one  could  have  anticipated. 

Mrs   Upton  had  an  intense 


190 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


distaste  for  the  unusual,  still 
more  for  the  unpleasant,  in 
life.  The  present  embarrass- 
ing meeting — an  encounter  with 
an  actual  thief  ! — filled  her  with 
terror  of  a  scene.  Her  eyes 
moved  like  those  of  an  animal 
that  finds  itself  of  a  sudden 
trapped,  and  lit  upon  the  door 
leading  into  the  corridor. 

"  Come,  dear,"  she  said  has- 
tily, taking  Joan  Conliffe's  arm, 
"  there  may  be  more  room 
farther  along." 

Without  a  word  of  recogni- 
tion to  Peter  Brown,  she  hur- 
ried Mrs  Conliffe  out  of  the 
carriage.  Jocelyn  bent  over 
the  detective,  whispered,  "  I 
must  speak  to  you  later,"  and 
followed. 

Honiton,  alone  with  his 
guard,  wiped  the  sweat  from 
his  brow.  Brown  hardly  no- 
ticed him,  so  intent  was  he 
on  his  own  thoughts.  What 
had  he  done,  that  she  should 
treat  him  as  a  stranger  ?  For 
the  first  time  a  suspicion  rose 
in  his  mind  that  there  might 
be  some  misunderstanding.  He 
thought  back,  in  the  hope  that 
he  might  light  upon  some  word 
or  action  of  his  own  that  could 
have  aroused  her  distrust  or 
dislike,  but  he  could  think  of 
nothing.  Could  it  be  merely 
the  fact  that  he  had  been 
present  at  and  enacted  a  part 
in  a  scene  that  she  longed  earn- 
estly to  forget  1 

For  an  hour  or  more  he  was 
so  intent  upon  his  thoughts 
that  he  forgot  Honiton  com- 
pletely, and  he  was  only  roused 
when  his  prisoner  touched  him 
upon  the  knee. 


"  I  think  Jocelyn — Miss  Up- 
ton— wants  to  see  you,  Brown," 
he  said  hesitatingly.  "  She  has 
passed  along  the  corridor  sev- 
eral times." 

"  Yes,  she  spoke  to  me  as 
she  went  out,"  replied  the 
detective. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Brown — 
keep  us  apart.  If — if  she  wants 
an  interview,  I  can't  bear  it. 
I'm  at  the  limit.  I  can't  endure 
the  shame — nor  the  agony  of 
my  loss,  if  I  see  her  again." 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can,  Honi- 
tion.  It  may  not  be  that." 

He  went  out,  and  at  a  neigh- 
bouring window  in  the  corridor 
saw  Jocelyn  Upton,  plainly 
awaiting  his  coming.  She 
turned  eagerly  to  meet  him. 

"  Mr  Brown,  I  must  see  him 
again — alone.  Will  you  stop 
away  for  a  time  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  sadly,  com- 
passionately. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  ".do  you 
think  it  is  wise  ?  No  good  can 
come  of  it,  and  it  can  only 
hurt  him — and  you." 

"  I  must  see  him,"  she  in- 
sisted. "  I  will  not  hurt  him. 
I  will  make  it  easier  for  him. 
Mr  Brown — will  you  do  this 
for  me  !  " 

"  He  would  rather  not  see 
you,  Miss  Upton.  He  told  me 
so.  He  cannot  endure  the 
agony  and  shame  of  another 
meeting.  These  are  his  own 
words." 

"  But  he  does  not  know.  I 
shall  not  reproach  him,  and — 
I  have  something  to  say — that 
I  must  say." 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes, 
and  her  beautiful  face  was 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


white  and  drawn,  as  she  held 
it  up  beseechingly  to  the  rugged 
face  of  Peter  Brown. 

"  I  promised  to  do  my  best 
to  avoid  an  interview,"  he 
admitted  in  a  low  voice,  almost 
inaudible  in  the  rattle  of  the 
train. 

"  You  have  done  your  best, 
but  you  can't  prevent  me  see- 
ing him.  Bather  than  that  he 
should  go  without  hearing — 
what  I  have  to  say,  I  will 
speak  in  your  presence." 

That  she  was  in  deadly  ear- 
nest and  immovable  he  saw, 
and  he  gave  up  the  attempt  to 
dissuade  her. 

"  Very  well,  Miss  Upton,  I 
shall  say  no  more,"  he  said 
with  a  sigh.  "  I  shall  stay  in 
the  corridor  until  you  call 
me." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr  Brown.  You 
are  doing  what  is  best  for  him 
— if  you  only  knew." 

As  she  turned  to  go,  Peter 
Brown  had  a  sudden  inspira- 
tion. 

"  Miss  Upton,  will  you  do  me 
a  favour  first  ?  "  he  said,  de- 
taining her  by  a  hand  placed 
softly  upon  her  arm. 

She  looked  at  him  inquir- 
ingly, and  his  courage  oozed 
away.  In  the  heat  of  the  im- 
pulse he  had  not  reckoned  on 
his  diffidence  in  all  matters  that 
concerned  him  self  alone. 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Jocelyn. 
"  What  is  it  that  I  can  do  for 
you,  Mr  Brown  ?  " 

"  Can  you  get  Mrs  Conliffe 
to  come  out  into  the  corri- 
dor f  "  he  asked  nervously. 
"  I — I  would  like  to  speak  to 
her  alone." 


I'll  teU  her  now.    I- 


"  No,  no.  You  must  not  say 
that  I  want  to  see  her,"  the 
detective  interrupted  hurriedly. 
"  You  must  bring  her  by  some 
other  means." 

As  his  excitement  grew  his 
timidity  left  him. 

"  If  you  beckon  her  merely, 
she  will  come  to  see  what  you 
want,"  he  suggested. 

Jocelyn  looked  at  him  in 
surprise.  She  had  no  idea  that 
these  two  had  parted  other 
than  friends.  She  had  too 
much  upon  her  own  mind, 
however,  to  give  thought  to 
the  woes  of  others,  and  her 
anxiety  to  see  Frank  Honiton 
led  her  to  fulfil  Peter  Brown's 
wish  as  quickly  as  possible. 

"  I  will  do  it  now,"  she 
said. 

Peter  Brown  hurried  to  the 
end  of  the  carriage,  and  con- 
cealed himself  beyond  the  bend 
in  the  corridor.  Jocelyn  saw 
his  intention,  and  knew  that 
she  must  entice  Mrs  Conliffe 
to  the  spot. 

Joan  came  unsuspiciously  in 
answer  to  her  signal  through 
the  glass  of  the  door.  Jocelyn 
did  not  wait  for  her,  but  moved 
quickly  down  the  narrow  rock- 
ing corridor,  and  Joan  followed 
her  to  the  end. 

"  Some  one  wishes  to  speak 
to  you,  Mrs  Conliffe,"  said  the 
girl,  turning  sharply  at  the 
widening  of  the  passage.  "  I 
will  leave  you." 

She  slipped  quickly  past  Joan 
and  hurried  back,  intent  upon 
her  interview  with  Frank  Honi- 
ton. 

Joan   Conliffe   found   herself 


192 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


face  to  face  with  Peter  Brown. 
Her  colour  went  suddenly  hot 
and  as  quickly  cold.  Instinct 
told  her  to  turn  and  fly,  but 
something — was  it  inclination  ? 
— would  not  let  her  move. 
She  stood  dumbly  looking  at 
him,  her  wide  eyes  startled, 
her  hands  clasped  together  over 
her  deep  breast. 

"  You  would  not  see  me 
before  we  left  the  ship,"  said 
Peter  Brown.  "  Why  t  " 

He  had  nerved  himself  to 
the  interview,  and,  in  his  an- 
xiety to  carry  it  through,  spoke 
harshly  and  hurriedly. 

"  What  good  could  come  of 
it  ?  "  she  said  slowly,  and  as 
though  putting  a  strong  re- 
straint upon  herself. 

She  paused,  and  then  sud- 
denly her  feelings  took  com- 
mand, and  her  tongue  refused 
to  be  curbed. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  cried  appeal- 
ingly,  her  sweet  face  all  solici- 
tude, "  what  will  they  do  to 
you  ?  I  have  tried  not  to  care 
— not  to  pity  you.  I  have 
blamed  myself  bitterly  for  pity- 
ing you,  but — it  was  useless  to 
try.  Tell  me,  have  you — have 
you — any  chance,  any  hope  ?  " 

Peter  Brown  looked  at  her 
in  amazement,  and  then  light 
streamed  in  on  him.  The 
memory  of  Honiton's  confessed 
deception  rose  in  his  mind, 
and  with  it  the  misunderstand- 
ing became  clear.  His  heart 
leapt  to  his  mouth  at  her  words. 
She  believed  him  a  thief,  yet 
could  not  withhold  her  pity 
for  him  in  his  supposed  afflic- 
tion. He  trembled  ashe thought 
of  all  this  meant  to  him — 


trembled,  too,  in  a  cold  fear 
lest  his  hopes  were  rising  too 
high. 

He  determined  quickly  that 
she  should  remain  in  ignorance 
of  the  truth  a  little  longer. 
He  could  not  look  in  her  candid 
face  and  deceive  her,  and  it 
was  with  eyes  upon  the  ground 
that  he  answered — 

"  Oxterham  will  assuredly  be 
convicted." 

He  felt  the  full  meanness  of 
his  words,  but  the  temptation 
to  find  out  more  of  the  depths 
of  her  heart  was  too  strong  for 
him. 

"  And  you — you  will  go  to 
prison  ?  "  she  cried  brokenly. 

"  The  sentence  will  be  a 
long  one — that  is  certain,"  he 
replied,  sharing  with  her  fully 
the  pain  that  he  was  inflicting 
so  selfishly. 

"  Oh,  how  could  you  do  it !  " 
she  cried.  "  I  can't  under- 
stand. You  were  so  kind — so 
good.  I  felt — I  feel  now,  how- 
ever I  strive  against  it — that — 
oh,  even  now  I  would  turn  to 
you  in  trouble  !  " 

Her  head  was  on  his  breast, 
and  she  was  sobbing  like  a 
little  child.  She  was  in  trouble, 
and  she  had  turned  to  him, 
though  he  was  the  very  source 
of  it. 

"  Mrs  Conliffe — Joan,"  stam- 
mered Peter  Brown,  his  throat 
swelling  so  that  it  was  all  he 
could  do  to  speak.  "It  is  all 
wrong.  You  were  misled.  I 
am  not  Oxterham.  Don't  cry 
—dear." 

The  last  word  was  whispered 
— to  himself. 

She  turned  her  tear-stained 


1921.^ 


The  Voyage  Home. 


193 


face  up  to  him,  with  wonder  in 
her  eyes. 

"  You  are  not — the  man  f  " 
she  stammered. 

"  No.  I  am  the  detective  in 
charge  of  him." 

' '  But — but — the  diamonds ! ' ' 

Only  then  did  Peter  Brown 
realise  the  full  measure  of  the 
misunderstanding.  She  had  be- 
lieved that  of  him,  yet  it  had 
not  been  able  to  turn  her 
against  him.  Even  now  her 
hands  lay  pathetically  upon 
his  shoulders,  and  she  sought 
in  him — him  ! — the  comfort 
that  she  could  not  find  in 
herself. 

"  Let  me  tell  you — Joan," 
he  said  gently. 

He  told  her  rapidly  all  that 
was  necessary  to  explain  the 
mistake,  and  as  he  spoke  she 
gradually  regained  her  self- 
possession,  and  with  it  her 
natural  reserve.  Her  hands 
slipped  from  his  shoulders,  and 
little  by  little  she  drew  away 
from  him,  her  face  colouring 
prettily  in  her  embarrassment. 

He  was  quick  to  notice  the 
change,  but  now  he  was  filled 
with  a  courage  born  of  hope. 

"  Joan,"  he  said,  using  her 
name  with  a  new  confidence, 
"  you  will  not  treat  me  worse 
honest  than  dishonest  ?  " 

He  took  her  hand  and  held 
it,  despite  its  inclination  to 
resist. 

"  You — I You    should 

not  take  advantage  of  my  pity," 
she  stammered,  her  colour  ris- 
ing higher,  and  her  eyes  falling 
before  his.  "I  would  not  have 
spoken  as  I  did  had  I  not 
believed  you  were  going  to 


prison  for  years.     You  let  me 
think  it." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with 
a  certain  indignation  as  she 
saw  how  he  had  deceived  her. 

"  I  could  not  help  it,"  he 
answered.  "  Your  words  told 
me  so  much  that  I  could  not 
cut  them  short.  Don't  re- 
member it  against  me — Joan." 

He  held  her  hand  in  both  of 
his — a  treasure  that  he  feared 
to  release.  Her  eyes  looked 
down  again  before  she  spoke. 

"  What  I  said,  I  said  not 
knowing  that  we  should  meet 
again.  You  must  forget  that." 

"  Then  we  will  meet  again  f  " 
cried  the  detective  eagerly. 
"  You  will  let  me " 

Joan  looked  up  at  him,  and 
for  the  first  time  her  face  lit 
with  a  smile  that  to  him  was 
like  the  sunshine  of  all  the 
world. 

"  Of  course  we  shall  meet 
again.  I  have  not  many  friends 
like  you." 

He  released  her  hand,  so 
that  he  might  clasp  her  in  his 
arms,  but  guessing  his  intention 
she  slipped  away  from  him. 

"  Eemember,"  she  said,  her 
face  once  more  serious  and  sad, 
"  how  newly  I  am  a  widow." 

Peter  Brown's  hands  dropped 
at  the  reproof. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said, 
abashed. 

"  I  understand,"  said  Joan 
quietly,  and  slipped  her  hand 
lightly  under  his  arm.  "  We 
are  friends." 

She  smiled  on  him  again,  a 
happier  smile  than  he  had  ever 
known  upon  her  face. 

"  TeU  me,"  she  said  lightly. 


194 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


"  You  have  taken  liberties  with 
my  name,  and  I  have  never 
even  heard  yours." 

"  Peter." 

"If  I  give  you  my  address, 
Peter,  you  will  come  to  see 
me — soon — very  soon  f  " 


your 


"  I   will   never   be   off 
doorstep — Joan. ' ' 

It  was  a  new  Peter  Brown 
who  spoke  —  a  man  full  of 
hope  and  confidence,  a  man 
with  a  whole  new  life  before 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXXH. 


As  Jocelyn  entered  the  com- 
partment where  he  sat  alone, 
Honiton  shrank  back  into  his 
corner,  like  a  dog  in  dread  of 
the  whip.  The  girl  did  not 
hesitate  for  a  moment.  She 
had  not  come  without  long 
thought  over  all  that  had  hap- 
pened, and  she  believed  that 
her  way  was  clear  before  her. 

She  sat  down  close  to  him 
and  took  in  hers  the  freckled 
hand  that  lay  clenched  upon 
his  knee.  "  As  her  soft  warm 
skin  touched  him  he  started 
violently,  and  turned  upon  her 
eyes  full  of  anguish.  It  seemed 
to  him  like  a  very  refinement 
of  cruelty  that  she  should  come 
to  him  like  this. 

"Frank,"  she  said  softly, 
"  do  not  look  at  me  like  that. 
I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I 
still  love  you." 

He  started  to  his  feet,  tear- 
ing his  hand  from  her  clasp, 
and  stood  trembling  before  her. 

"  Jo — why  torture  me  !  "  he 
cried  in  agony. 

"  I  love  you  still,"  she  re- 
peated earnestly.  "  Sit  down 
and  let  me  tell  you." 

She  held  out  her  hands  to 
him.  Unable  to  resist,  he  took 
them  in  his,  and  she  drew  him 
down  again  to  the  seat. 


"  Frank,"  she  said  gently, 
"  can  you  ever  forgive  me  for 
being  a  renegade?  I  pledged 
you  my  love  when  I  knew 
nothing  of  you,  and  thought 
I  took  it  back  when  I  knew 
the  truth.  But  love  is  not  like 
that.  It  won't  stop.  It  was 
you  that  I  loved,  Frank,  not 
the  things  you  had  done.  I've 
thought  and  thought,  and  now 
I  know.  When  I  found  this 
morning  that  you  had  gone 
before  I  could  tell  you,  I  did 
not  know  what  to  do  until  I 
remembered  that  I  could  see 
you  in  prison." 

She  spoke  of  his  fate  with- 
out faltering,  having  in  the 
gallantry  of  her  youth  accepted 
it  as  part  of  him. 

"  You  would  have  come  to 
see  me — there  1 "  he  stammered, 
unable  to  comprehend,  yet,  the 
full  extent  of  her  avowal. 

"  Of  course,"  she  answered 
simply.  "  I  will  come  to  see 
you  in  prison  whenever  they 
will  let  me  in.  You  see,  Frank, 
I  love  you,  and  I  will  not  lose 
you." 

"  You  will  not  lose  me,"  he 
cried,  unable  to  believe  the 
words  he  heard.  "  What  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

He  stared  at  her  in  unabated 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


195 


amazement,  his  breathing  loud 
as  that  of  an  exhausted  runner. 

"  I  mean,"  she  said  slowly, 
and  in  a  kind  of  exaltation, 
"  that  you  are  mine  and  that 
I  am  yours,  and  that  however 
long  you  may  be  in  prison, 
you  will  find  me  at  the  gate 
when  you  come  out." 

Honiton  gazed  at  her  for  a 
moment,  and  then,  covering 
his  face  with  his  arm,  and 
leaning  upon  the  ledge  of  the 
window,  he  shook  with  uncon- 
trollable sobs.  Love,  shame, 
admiration,  remorse,  struggled 
within  him,  as  he  realised  the 
magnanimity  of  her  love. 

Jocelyn  placed  her  hand  upon 
his  shoulder. 

"  Frank,  Frank  !  "  she  cried 
with  the  first  sign  of  agitation 
that  she  had  shown.  "  It  hurts 
to  see  you  cry.  Stop,  dear, 
stop." 

He  started  to  his  feet,  push- 
ing her  away  almost  brutally, 
his  face  wild  and  terrible  to 
see.  His  hands  were  stretched 
as  though  to  keep  her  from 
him,  and  his  eyes  would  not 
rest  on  her  face. 

"  No,  no,"  he  cried  desper- 
ately. "  Do  not  tempt  me. 
I  will  not  listen  to  you.  Leave 
me,  Jocelyn,  for  God's  sake." 

"  You  think  I  am  sacrificing 
myself,  Frank,"  she  answered. 
"  You  are  wrong.  I  am  doing 
what  my  heart  makes  me  do. 
You  cannot  change  me.  Come, 
sit  down  quietly,  dear,  and  let 
us  talk  of  our  future." 

She  spoke  throughout  with 
an  almost  unearthly  calm  and 
decision,  and  it  came  home  to 
Honiton  slowly  that  nothing- 


could  move  her.  She  had 
settled  her  problem  as  her 
young  mind  dictated,  and  she 
could  see  no  flaw  in  her  posi- 
tion. 

He  sat  by  her  side  and  lis- 
tened to  her,  astounded  at  the 
detailed  fashion  in  which  she 
had  looked  into  the  future, 
and  solved  the  problem  of  their 
life  together  when  his  term  of 
imprisonment  was  over.  No 
words  of  his  could  move  her. 
As  he  grew  calmer,  he  spoke 
of  the  slights  that  would  be 
put  upon  her  as  the  wife  of 
an  ex-convict,  the  hardships 
she  must  suffer  in  the  rough 
life  that  was  inevitable,  the 
poverty  in  which  she  must  live 
wherever  they  went — but  each 
fresh  reason  he  urged  hardened 
the  decision  she  had  made. 

Peter  Brown,  waiting  in  the 
corridor,  was  forgotten  as  com- 
pletely as  was  the  flight  of 
time.  But  for  him,  too,  time 
had  ceased  to  exist.  In,  for 
the  most  part,  an  intimate 
silence,  he  was  experiencing 
the  first  joys  of  loving  and 
being  loved. 

When  at  last  Jocelyn  brought 
herself  to  part  from  Frank,  her 
tears  flowed  for  the  first  time, 
and  her  face  was  still  wet  with 
them  when  she  rejoined  Peter 
Brown.  He  was  alone,  for 
Joan  had  left  him  with  the 
promise  of  a  word  before  Euston 
was  reached.  His  heart  went 
out  to  the  girl  as  he  saw  the 
signs  of  her  grief,  the  more  so 
as  he  contrasted  his  own  lot 
with  hers. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said  kindly, 
and  pressed  her  arm,  as  the 


196 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


only  means  he  had  of  letting 
her  know  his  sympathy. 

"  Don't  think  I  am  sad,  Mr 
Brown,"  she  said,  looking  up 
almost  defiantly  through  the 
tears  in  her  eyes.  "  I  am  happy 
— for  I  am  going  to  marry 
Frank  when  he  is  free." 

"  Marry  him,"  exclaimed  the 
detective,  a  look  of  consterna- 
tion spreading  over  his  face. 
"  But  —  my  dear,  have  you 
thought  what  this  means  ?  To 
bind  yourself  down — for  years, 

and  then " 

"It  is  useless  to  try  to  stop 
me,  Mr  Brown.  I  have  thought 
it  all  out,  and  I  am  determined. 
Frank  has  said  all — more  than 
all — that  you  can  say,  but  I 
have  quite  made  up  my  mind. 
I  love  him,  and  I  will  wait  for 
him — for  ever." 

Peter   Brown   was   thunder- 
struck.    Such   an   eventuality 
had  not  even  occurred  to  him. 
She    was    throwing    away    her 
life — giving  a  promise  in  her 
girlish    enthusiasm    which  ^  she 
would  regret  bitterly  long  before 
Honiton's    term    of    imprison- 
ment could   possibly  be  over. 
Had  she  been  going  to  marry 
him  quickly  it  would  have  been 
another  matter.    If  they  could 
have    gone    abroad    at    once, 
young    and    full    of    a    loving 
enthusiasm,    her    love    would 
have  grown,  and  her  life  might 
yet  have  been  happy.    But  to 
wait  years  for  a  convict,  meet- 
ing as  she  would  with  numbers 
of  other  men — young  men  of 
her  own  circle,  with  no  stain 
upon    them — and    living    the 
social  life  that  she  must  live 
with    her    mother,    his    clear 


vision  told  him  must  lead  to 
disaster. 

He  knew,  however,  that  argu- 
ment was  useless.  He  returned 
to  the  compartment  where  Honi- 
ton  awaited  him,  with  his  new- 
found happiness  embittered  by 
the  catastrophe  which  he  saw 
ahead  of  these  two  younger 
people. 

The  light  of  manhood  burned 
up  afresh  in  Honiton's  eyes. 
Peter  Brown  could  barely  re- 
cognise him  as  the  man  whom 
he  had  left  an  hour  earlier, 
yet  he  pitied  him  only  the  more, 
with  a  pity  that  he  must  hide 
at  any  cost. 

For  Honiton,  in  his  almost 
incredible  joy,  must  confide  in 
Peter   Brown.      The   detective 
listened,    and   made   the   best 
show   of   delight   at  the  news 
that  his  honest  nature  would 
permit,  but  he  was  distracted 
and  unhappy  for  the  remainder 
of  the  journey.     When  at  last 
Honiton    ceased    to    talk    and 
lapsed  into  dreams  of  the  un- 
expected and  happy  future  that 
he  now  believed  in  store  for 
him,  Peter  Brown  sank  into  a 
gloomy   meditation.     He   had 
grown  so  fond  of  this  man  in 
the    fortnight    that    they    had 
been  thrown  together,  that  it 
was  a  personal  pain  to  him  to 
think    of    the    blow    Honiton 
would  suffer  if  the  girl  failed 
him  in  the  end.     How  could 
she  help  but  fail  ?    Who  could 
blame  her  if  she  did  ?    If  only 
they    could    marry    now    and 
start  the  fresh  life  while  yet 
their  hearts  were  hot. 

It  was  then  that  the  quixotic 
idea  first  crossed  his  mind.    It 


1921.] 


The  Voyage  Home. 


197 


would  cost  him  his  job  pro- 
bably, but  after  all — well,  there 
were  other  jobs.  But  there 
was  Joan  !  Joan  ?  She  would 
be  the  first  to  urge  him  to  it, 
if  she  knew  the  whole  facts. 

Yes,  he  would  do  it.  Honi- 
ton  should  have  his  chance  of 
happiness  as  well  as  Peter 
Brown. 

He  roused  from  his  gloomy 
reverie,  and  for  a  time  talked 
with  Honiton  upon  indifferent 
subjects.  At  last,  after  a  glance 
at  his  watch,  he  said — 

"  Only  another  hour  to  go, 
and  then  my  responsibility 
ends.  That  bargain  of  ours 
had  strange  results,  Honiton 
— yet  I  am  almost  sorry  it  is 
at  an  end." 

"At  an  end,"  said  Honiton. 
"  It  doesn't  finish  until  you 
hand  me  over." 

Peter  Brown  shook  his  head. 

"  It  ended  when  we  left  the 
ship.  In  fact,  it  really  ended 
when  the  news  of  who  you  are 
got  about,  for  I  wasn't  able  to 
fulfil  my  part  any  longer." 

Honiton  looked  at  him  curi- 
ously, wondering  why  he  should 
trouble  over  such  a  fine  point. 

Nothing  further  was  said  on 
the  subject,  and  soon  after 
Peter  Brown  rose  to  leave  the 
compartment. 

"  You  would  like  to  say  good- 
bye to  Miss  Upton  f  "  he  said, 
pausing  in  the  doorway.  "  I 
will  get  her  to  come  to  you." 

Mrs  Upton  was  asleep,  and 
it  was  simple  to  call  Jocelyn 
out. 

"  I  have  come  out  to  ,give 
you  a  chance  to  say  good-bye 
to  him,"  said  Peter  Brown. 


"  You  are  good,"  said  Joce- 
lyn simply.  "  I  shall  go  at 
once." 

"It's  not  for  a  detective  to 
talk  to  a  prisoner  as  you  could, 
Miss  Upton,"  he  said  with  a 
curious  hesitation. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked 
Jocelyn,  puzzled. 

"  Well,  to  urge  him  to  make 
the  most  of  every  chance,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing,"  he  said 
vaguely. 

Jocelyn  looked  at  him  in- 
tently, unable  to  fathom  his 
meaning. 

"  I  shall  tell  him  that,"  she 
said.  "  But  I  mean  to  see 
myself  that  everything  possible 
is  done  for  him." 

Joan  Conliffe  followed  Joce- 
lyn out,  and  as  she  came  for- 
ward the  girl  moved  away,  to 
go  to  Honiton. 

"  She  has  told  me  all  about 
it,  Peter,"  said  Joan,  and  it 
thrilled  him  to  hear  the  inti- 
mate tone  of  her  voice.  "  Her 
devotion  is  wonderful.  Tell  me, 
is  he  worthy  of  it  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  fine  fellow,  gone 
wrong  through — almost  through 
carelessness,"  said  Peter  Brown 
earnestly.  "  I  would  trust  him 
with  anything  now.  Joan — if 
I  could  help  those  two  to  make 
a  fresh  start  in  life,  you  wouldn't 
blame  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,  but  how  ?  " 

"  Not  even  if  it  meant  that 
I — suffered  some  disgrace  *?  " 

Joan  Conliffe  looked  in  his 
face  earnestly. 

"  I  shall  always  trust  you 
to  do  the  best  thing,  my 
friend,"  she  said. 

Later,   when   both   partings 


198 


The  Voyage  Home. 


[Aug. 


were  over,  Peter  Brown  settled 
back  into  his  corner  seat.  When 
the  earliest  outskirts  of  London 
appeared  his  eyes  were  closed. 
As  the  train  rattled  through 
the  suburbs  his  head  had  sunk 
forward,  his  chin  resting  upon 
his  breast.  His  heavy  breath- 
ing, and  an  occasional  faint 
snore,  convinced  Honiton  that 
he  was  asleep.  .  .  . 

At  last  the  train  slowed  and 
swung  into  Euston.  Honiton 
rose  and  collected  the  hand 
luggage.  Peter  Brown  slept  on 
undisturbed.  Honiton  looked 
at  him  curiously.  The  train 
stopped,  and  still  the  detective 
slept  on.  .  .  i.j  < 

What  had  Jocelyn  said  ? 


"  Make  the  most  of  every 
chance !  " 

What  better  chance.  .  .  . 

Honiton  looked  around  him, 
the  hunted  look  of  an  animal 
in  his  eyes. 

He  looked  again  at  Peter 
Brown.  The  detective's  head 
had  dropped  lower.  He  snored 
audibly. 

Honiton  put  out  a  hand  cau- 
tiously and  opened  the  door. 

He  turned  to  look  once  more 
at  Peter  Brown,  and  his  whole 
expression  changed. 

He  put  out  his  hand,  seized 
the  detective  by  the  shoulder, 
and  shook  him  roughly. 

"  Wake  up,  old  friend,"  he 
said.  "  We've  got  there." 


1921.] 


199 


TALES   OF    THE    E.I.C. 


XII.    A   BRUTAL  MURDER. 


THE  childlike  trust  which  so 
many  Englishmen  have  in  their 
institutions  is  a  source  of  never- 
ending  wonder  to  Irishmen, 
more  especially  the  English- 
man's blind  faith  in  the  in- 
tegrity of  the  Post  Office  in 
both  countries.  Long  after 
Sinn  Fein  had  made  the  Irish 
Post  Office  its  chief  source  of 
information,  the  Government 
and  public  continued  happily 
and  blindly  to  confide  their 
confidential  correspondence  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  the  King's 
enemies,  and  at  the  same  time 
expressed  their  bewildered  as- 
tonishment at  the  uncanny 
amount  of  information  that 
the  Sinn  Fein  Secret  Service 
was  able  to  obtain. 

It  is  highly  doubtful  if  Blake 
would  ever  have  even  thought 
of  obtaining  information  from 
the  mail  bags,  if  a  young  sub- 
altern, who  commanded  a  pla- 
toon of  the  Blankshires  tem- 
porarily stationed  in  the  Bally- 
bor  Police  Barracks,  had  not 
made  the  suggestion  one  night 
at  dinner,  and  had  even  offered 
to  carry  out  the  operation  him- 
self if  Blake  had  any  official 
qualms.  At  first  Blake  re- 
fused, knowing  that  the  au- 
thorities did  not  approve  of 
tampering  with  the  public's 
private  letters  ;  but  being  des- 
perately hard  up  for  certain 
information  he  gave  in,  and 
it  was  arranged  that  Jones, 


the  subaltern,  should  carry  out 
the  search. 

A  cross-country  letter  in  the 
west  of  Ireland  will  often  take 
nowadays  any  time  from  three 
to  five  days  to  arrive  at  a  town 
only  twenty  miles  away,  and 
of  the  chief  reasons  of  this 
delay  one  is  that  the  mails 
often  lie  for  twelve  to  twenty- 
four  hours  in  a  head  post 
office  before  being  sent  out  to 
rural  sub-offices  for  distribu- 
tion, or  in  a  railway  van  at 
some  junction  awaiting  a  con- 
nection. This  was  well  known 
to  Blake,  who  had  often  to 
complain  of  delay  in  delivery 
of  official  letters,  and  also  of 
letters  from  the  "  Castle  "  be- 
ing frequently  opened  in  the 
post. 

Examining  the  mails  in  the 
Ballybor  Post  Office  was  out 
of  the  question,  owing  to  the 
almost  unbelievable  fact  that 
the  staff,  from  the  postmaster 
to  the  charwoman  who  washed 
out  the  tiled  floors  of  the  post 
office  every  morning,  were  Sinn 
Feiners,  one  and  all,  so  that 
there  only  remained  to  search 
the  mails  in  the  train. 

At  this  period  the  western 
railways  were  slowly  dying  from 
a  creeping  paralysis  caused  by 
the  engine-drivers  and  guards 
refusing  to  carry  the  armed 
forces  of  the  Crown,  quite 
oblivious  of  the;  fact  that  it 
was  only  possible  to  pay  the 


200 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Aug. 


railwaymen's  enormous  wages 
through  the  Government  sub- 
sidy. For  a  time  some  lines 
shut  down,  but  a  goods  train 
managed  to  reach  Ballybor  six 
days  a  week  with  mails  and 
the  bare  necessities  of  life  for 
the  inhabitants — chiefly  porter 
barrels.  By  good  luck  the 
guard  on  this  train  chanced 
to  be  a  Loyalist — probably  the 
only  one  on  the  line — and  it 
was  arranged  with  him  that 
the  mails  should  be  searched 
by  Jones  while  the  mail  van 
waited  in  a  siding  for  several 
hours  at  a  junction  about  six- 
teen miles  from  Ballybor. 

Disguised  as  harvestmen, 
Jones  and  his  servant  were 
dropped  at  night  from  a  Cross- 
ley  close  to  the  junction  and 
admitted  to  the  mail  van  by 
the  guard ;  they  at  once  set 
to  work  with  electric  torches, 
the  batman  opening  the  letters, 
whilst  Jones  read  and  made  a 
note  of  any  useful  information, 
and  when  they  had  finished 
returned  in  the  car  to  Ballybor 
Barracks. 

On  returning  to  the  barracks, 
Blake  and  Jones  went  carefully 
through  the  information,  and 
found  that  one  letter  addressed 
to  a  noted  Sinn  Feiner,  Mr  Pat 
Hegarty,  who  lived  near  a  vil- 
lage called  Lissamore,  about 
eight  miles  away,  gave  sufficient 
evidence  on  which  to  hang  Mr 
Hegarty.  The  writer  stated 
that  on  the  3rd  inst.  Hegarty 
was  to  expect  the  arrival  of 
an  officer  of  the  I.E. A.  in 
uniform,  who  would  come  from 
the  direction  of  Castleport  on 
a  bicycle  about  10  P.M.  Heg- 


arty was  to  keep  this  officer 
in  his  house,  place  the  new 
supply  of  American  arms  at 
his  disposal  for  ambushes,  and 
the  officer  would  not  leave 
the  district  until  Blake  had 
been  either  killed  or  kidnapped. 

Some  months  previous  to 
this  Blake  had  been  in  the 
South  on  special  duty,  and 
during  his  absence,  MacNot, 
the  D.I.  who  relieved  him 
temporarily,  had  called  a  truce 
with  the  Volunteers  as  long 
as  all  appeared  well  on  paper, 
with  the  result  that  the  Volun- 
teers had  been  able  to  make 
full  preparations  for  a  second 
effort  to  wipe  out  the  police 
in  the  district.  Soon  after  his 
return  to  Ballybor  Blake  heard 
strong  rumours  of  a  second 
landing  of  American  arms 
during  his  absence — this  time, 
at  night  at  Ballybor  quay — 
and  the  letter  confirmed  the 
rumours. 

On  the  night  mentioned  in 
the  letter,  Blake  and  Jones, 
accompanied  by  a  police  ser- 
geant and  two  constables,  left 
Ballybor  Barracks  in  a  car 
after  dark  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion to  that  in  which  the  village 
of  Lissamore  lay,  and  after 
going  about  three  miles  turned 
off  at  a  byroad  and  proceeded 
by  unfrequented  roads,  until 
they  reached  a  small  wood 
about  half  a  mile  from  Heg- 
arty's  house  on  the  Castleport 
road  ;  here  they  blocked  the 
road  with  the  car,  and  waited 
for  their  victim. 

There  was  bright  starlight, 
and  punctually  at  9.45  they 
saw  a  cyclist  approaching  from 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


201 


the  direction  of  Castleport ; 
but  so  dark  was  it  in  the  wood 
that  the  cyclist  only  avoided 
running  into  the  car  by  throw- 
ing himself  off,  to  be  quickly 
seized  by  two  stalwart  police- 
men before  he  could  let  go  of 
his  handle-bars,  gagged  and 
well  tied  up.  They  then  took 
him  into  the  wood,  removed 
his  uniform,  dressed  him  in  an 
old  police  uniform,  and  finally 
deposited  him  at  the  bottom 
of  the  car. 

Jones  then  put  on  the  Volun- 
teer officer's  uniform,  took  his 
bicycle,  and  rode  on  to  Heg- 
arty's  house,  while  the  police 
backed  the  car  up  a  bohereen 
and  waited  there.  Before  start- 
ing out  they  had  arranged  that 
Jones  should  camouflage  his 
English  voice  by  a  Yankee 
twang,  as  a  brogue  was  quite 
beyond  his  powers. 

On  arriving  at  Hegarty's 
house,  Jones  leant  his  bicycle 
against  the  wall,  and  gave 
three  mysterious  knocks  at  the 
door.  For  quite  two  minutes 
there  was  no  answer,  and  just 
as  he  was  preparing  to  knock 
again,  the  door  opened  about 
three  inches,  and  a  girl's  voice 
asked  in  a  whisper  who  was 
there,  and  what  he  wanted  at 
that  time  of  night. 

Now,  unfortunately,  the  let- 
ter had  not  given  the  name  of 
the  I.E. A.  officer,  so  Jones, 
being  afraid  to  give  a  name 
lest  the  Hegartys  might  know 
the  officer's  real  name,  mut- 
tered that  he  was  a  republican 
officer,  and  had  come  to  see 
Pat  Hegarty.  The  door  at 
once  closed,  and  he  could  hear 


the  girl  open  and  close  a  door 
at  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
for  fully  ten  minutes  nothing 
further  occurred. 

This  was  not  part  of  the 
play  which  Jones  and  Blake 
had  carefully  rehearsed  in  the 
barracks  that  afternoon,  and 
Jones  was  quite  nonplussed 
what  to  do  next.  Being  young 
and  impetuous,  he  was  just 
on  the  point  of  ruining  the 
whole  show  by  breaking  in  the 
door,  when  it  opened  and  the 
girl's  voice  told  him  to  come  in. 

The  room  was  pitch  dark, 
and  for  a  second  Jones  hesi- 
tated ;  but  the  girl  laid  her 
hand  on  his  sleeve,  and  led 
him  through  to  a  lighted  room 
at  the  back,  where  he  found 
Hegarty  with  his  wife  and  son 
about  to  sit  down  to  supper. 
Hegarty  bade  him  welcome, 
and  the  meal  started. 

After  they  had  eaten  for 
some  time  in  silence,  Hegarty 
asked  him  several  questions 
about  where  he  had  been  re- 
cently, and  of  prominent  Vol- 
unteers in  other  parts  of  the 
country.  Jones  made  the  best 
answers  he  could,  not  forgetting 
to  keep  up  his  American  ac- 
cent, and  mentioned  casually 
that  he  had  only  recently  come 
over  from  the  States,  where 
his  parents  had  been  living  for 
some  years. 

For  a  time  there  was  silence 
again,  but  Jones  could  feel 
that  the  eyes  of  Maria  Hegarty 
were  on  him  all  the  time ; 
and  presently  she  began  to 
ask  most  awkward  questions 
about  places  and  people  in  the 
States,  and  Jones  was  hard 


202 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Aug. 


put  to  it  to  avoid  suspicion. 
Luckily  Maria  mentioned  that 
her  friends  lived  in  the  Eastern 
States,  so  that  it  was  easy  for 
Jones's  people  to  live  far  away 
in  the  west,  and  the  situation 
was  saved. 

Supper  over,  the  women 
cleared  the  table  and  retired, 
while  Hegarty  produced  a  large 
jar  of  poteen  and  tumblers, 
and  the  three  men  settled 
themselves  round  the  fire  to 
drink  and  talk.  For  the  next 
two  hours  Jones  extracted  all 
the  information  he  could  out 
of  the  Hegartys,  who,  though 
shy  at  first,  warmed  up  after 
several  glasses  of  poteen,  and 
Jones  learnt  from  young  Heg- 
arty that  the  arms  were  kept 
under  the  floors  of  a  disused 
Protestant  schoolhouse  in  the 
rectory  grounds  at  Cloonalla, 
the  rector  of  which  was  a 
notorious  Loyalist,  and  would 
have  died  sooner  than  conceal 
arms  knowingly  for  the  rebels. 

At  this  point  Jones,  who  had 
never  tasted  poteen  before, 
suddenly  realised  that  he  was 
nearly  drunk,  and  that  before 
he  became  quite  drunk  it  would 
be  wiser  to  lie  down  on  a  bed. 
On  inquiry,  he  found  that  he 
was  to  sleep  with  young  Heg- 
arty, the  idea  of  which  so 
staggered  him  that  he  felt 
soberer  at  once,  and  deter- 
mined to  try  and  hold  out. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  vio- 
lent knocking  at  the  front 
door,  followed  by  what  sounded 
like  the  bang  of  a  rifle-butt  on 
the  back  door.  At  once  the 
Hegartys  put  out  the  light, 
and  started  to  hustle  Jones  up 


a  ladder  to  a  loft  above  the 
kitchen. 

But  by  now  the  poteen  had 
quite  got  to  Jones's  head ; 
and  when  the  police  went  into 
the  kitchen,  they  found  old 
Hegarty  and  his  son  still  strug- 
gling to  get  an  I.E. A.  officer 
up  the  ladder.  The  Hegartys 
now  let  go  of  Jones,  who 
promptly  closed  with  Blake, 
and  a  tremendous  struggle 
started  in  the  kitchen. 

In  a  few  minutes  Jones  was 
overcome,  and  lay  on  the  floor 
with  a  heavy  constable  sitting 
on  his  chest.  Blake  then  or- 
dered the  Hegartys  to  light 
the  lamp,  and  afterwards  to 
stand  against  the  wall  with 
their  hands  over  their  heads, 
and  the  constables  to  take 
Jones  outside  and  shoot  him. 
But  he  had  not  reckoned  on 
Maria,  who  burst  into  the 
kitchen  and  with  piercing 
screams  endeavoured  to  throw 
her  arms  round  Jones's  neck. 
Maria  was  a  strong  girl  and 
desperate,  and  it  took  Jones 
and  the  two  constables  all  they 
knew  to  shake  her  off  and 
struggle  out  of  the  house. 

Luckily  Maria  did  not  at- 
tempt to  leave  the  house,  and 
ten  seconds  after  the  back  door 
had  closed,  six  revolver  shots 
rang  out  in  quick  succession, 
followed  by  the  sound  of  a 
heavy  body  falling  on  wet 
ground.  After  telling  Maria 
and  her  mother  to  go  to  their 
bedroom,  Blake  took  Hegarty 
and  his  son  into  the  back-yard, 
and  showed  them  the  body  of 
the  unfortunate  Volunteer  offi- 
cer thrown  by  the  police  on 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


203 


the  manure-heap.  During  the 
next  half-hour  he  had  little 
difficulty  in  getting  all  the 
information  he  required  about 
local  Volunteers  (he  made  no 
mention  of  the  arms),  and  after 
warning  them  not  to  move  the 
corpse,  the  police  left  the  house. 

Maria  appears  to  have  been 
greatly  taken  with  Jones's 
youthful  beauty,  and  nearly 
ruined  the  whole  show  again 
by  insisting  on  her  father  and 
brother  going  out  to  bring  in 
the  corpse  and  lay  it  out  in 
the  kitchen.  Luckily  the  Heg- 
artys  were  too  much  afraid, 
and  Jones  told  Blake  after- 
wards that  the  agony  of  lying 
with  his  face  buried  in  liquid 
manure  was  nothing  to  the 
agony  he  suffered  listening  to 
the  Hegartys  arguing  whether 
his  corpse  should  be  left  lying 
on  the  manure  -  heap  to  be 
eaten  by  dogs,  or  brought  into 
the  kitchen  and  laid  out  as  a 
"  dacent  son  of  ould  Ireland  " 
should  be. 

While  this  argument  was 
still  raging  a  car  stopped  at 
the  front  door,  and  again  the 
police  rushed  into  the  house, 
out  at  the  back  door,  dragged 
the  corpse  off  the  manure-heap, 
through  the  house,  and  flung 
it  on  top  of  the  real  Volunteer 
officer  in  the  back  of  the  car. 
After  telling  the  Hegartys  that 
they  would  throw  the  body 
into  the  lake,  the  police  drove 
off  at  a  furious  rate  in  the 
direction  of  Ballybor. 

On  returning  to  barracks, 
Jones  at  once  rushed  off  to 
have  a  hot  bath,  while^  Blake 
went  to  his  office  to  find  his 


two  clerks  snowed  up  with 
paper,  correspondence  which 
had  arrived  by  the  goods  mail 
while  they  had  been  out.  After 
they  had  some  food,  Jones 
was  all  for  raiding  the  rector 
of  Cloonalla  at  once ;  but 
Blake  made  the  fatal  mistake 
of  attending  to  the  correspon- 
dence then,  and  putting  off  the 
raid  to  the  following  night. 

The  next  night  they  set  out 
with  a  strong  force  of  police 
for  the  Cloonalla  Eectory,  but 
found,  though  there  were  evi- 
dent signs  that  their  informa- 
tion had  been  correct,  that  the 
arms  had  been  removed ;  the 
rector  was  most  indignant,  and 
they  returned  defeated. 

A  few  nights  afterwards, 
when  at  dinner,  Blake  showed 
Jones  the  following  paragraph 
in  an  Irish  paper. 

"  A  BRUTAL  MURDER. 

"On  the  night  of  the  3rd 
inst.,  about  midnight,  armed 
men  in  uniform,  some  of  them 
wearing  trench-coats,  raided  the 
house  of  Mr  Patrick  Hegarty, 
a  respectable  farmer,  who  has 
never  been  known  to  take  any 
active  part  in  politics.  Inside 
these  men  found  a  young  man 
alleged  to  have  been  wearing 
the  uniform  of  an  officer  in 
the  I.E.A. 

"  This  unfortunate  young 
man,  without  trial  of  any  kind, 
was  at  once  dragged  outside 
the  house,  riddled  with  bullets, 
and  his  body  thrown  on  a 
manure-heap  in  a  most  callous 
and  brutal  manner. 

"  After    brutally    ill-treating 


204 


Tales  ofiheEJ.C. 


[Aug. 


Mr  Hegarty  and  his  family, 
the  murderers  left,  to  return 
again,  saying  that  they  would 
take  the  body  away  and  throw 


it  into  the  lake.  Though  the 
lake  has  been  carefully  dragged, 
no  sign  of  this  unhappy  youth's 
body  has  yet  been  found." 


SHI.   SEAL  ISLAND. 


Sergeant  O 'Bryan  was  as 
fine  a  type  of  the  E.I.C.  as 
you  would  meet  in  half  a  dozen 
baronies  :  of  magnificent  phy- 
sique, great  courage,  full  of 
tact,  and  with  the  perfect 
manners  of  a  true  Irishman. 

At  the  end  of  1918  O'Bryan 
found  himself  sergeant  in  charge 
of  Cloghleagh  Barracks,  a  com- 
fortable thatched  house  close 
to  the  shores  of  Lough  Moyra, 
and  distant  about  four  miles 
from  Ballybor. 

While  at  Cloghleagh  his  prin- 
cipal work  consisted  of  trying 
to  put  down  the  making  of 
poteen,  which  was  carried  on 
extensively  by  the  inhabitants 
of  two  small  islands  at  the 
south  end  of  the  lake  ;  other- 
wise the  sergeant  was  on  the 
best  of  terms  with  all  the  people 
of  the  district,  who  often  ap- 
pealed to  him  for  advice  and 
help.  And  as  O'Bryan  was  a 
keen  fisherman,  he  often  man- 
aged to  combine  business  with 
sport  while  out  in  the  police 
boat. 

Soon  after  Blake  became 
D.I.  at  Ballybor,  orders  were 
received  from  the  County  In- 
spector to  evacuate  Cloghleagh 
Barracks,  and  for  O'Bryan  and 
his  men  to  proceed  to  Ballybor 
Barracks.  As  the  country 
round  Cloghleagh  had  as  yet 
shown  no  hostility  towards  the 


police,  and  as  it  was  hard  to 
get  a  house  in  any  town, 
O'Bryan  asked  and  obtained 
leave  for  his  young  wife  and 
family  to  remain  on  at  Clogh- 
leagh Barracks  ;  and  here,  not 
long  after  the  sergeant  had 
gone,  the  youngest  O'Bryan 
was  born. 

Two  days  afterwards,  on  a 
wet  winter's  evening,  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  barracks 
door,  and  when  Mrs  O'Bryan 
asked  who  was  there,  a  man's 
voice  bade  her  open  in  the 
name  of  the  I.E. A.  Obeying, 
she  found  two  masked  men, 
who  covered  her  with  revolvers, 
and  told  her  they  would  give 
her  five  minutes  to  clear  out 
of  the  barracks  before  they  set 
it  on  fire. 

Mrs  O'Bryan  had  seven  chil- 
dren, the  eldest  about  ten 
years  and  the  youngest  two 
"  days  old,  most  of  whom  were 
in  bed  by  this  time.  As  fast 
as  she  could  she  roused  and 
dressed  the  children  ;  but  the 
five  minutes  soon  passed,  and 
the  men  entered  and  bundled 
the  whole  family,  some  of  the 
children  only  half  clothed,  out 
into  the  wet  and  cold  of  a 
winter's  night. 

Outside  Mrs  O'Bryan  found 
a  large  party  of  Ballybor  shop- 
boys,  some  of  them  wearing 
black  masks,  led  by  four  strange 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  E.I.  C. 


205 


gunmen.  This  party  had  ar- 
rived in  Cloghleagh  about  an 
hour  before,  and  had  at  once 
proceeded  to  picket  all  roads 
leading  to  and  from  the  bar- 
racks, and  every  unfortunate 
countryman  or  woman  they 
met  making  their  way  along 
the  roads  was  at  once  seized 
by  the  pickets,  taken  to  the 
barrack-yard,  and  there  placed 
face  inwards  against  the  wall 
with  their  hands  on  top  of 
their  heads. 

As  soon  as  the  O 'Bryan 
family  had  been  hustled  into 
the  road,  the  gunmen  threw 
paraffin  and  petrol  on  the 
thatch  of  the  barracks,  set  it 
alight,  and  in  a  very  short 
time  the  building  was  a  charred 
ruin.  They  then  mounted  their 
bicycles  and  rode  off  into  the 
night,  leaving  the  unfortunate 
O'Bryans  to  shift  for  them- 
selves. 

Leaving  her  family  huddled 
under  a  hedge,  the  mother 
tried  to  get  into  two  neigh- 
bouring houses  ;  but  the  blight- 
ing curse  of  the  I.E. A.  was  on 
her  and  hers,  and  not  a  house 
would  even  open  its  door,  let 
alone  take  them  in.  In  the 
end  she  saw  that  it  was  hope- 
less, and  returning  to  her  chil- 
dren, did  her  best  to  keep  them 
warm  with  her  own  body  and 
the  few  blankets  she  had  man- 
aged to  bring  out  of  the  bar- 
racks. And  here  they  spent 
the  night  like  the  beasts  of  the 
fields. 

Next  morning  some  country- 
man, braver  than  the  rest, 
brought  word  to  the  Ballybor 
Barracks  of  the  burning  at 


Cloghleagh,  and  Sergeant 
O'Bryan  arrived  on  the  scene 
to  find  his  wife  and  family 
perished  and  starving.  Such 
is  the  mercy  of  the  I.E.A. 
for  the  little  children  of  the 
E.I.C. 

O'Bryan  took  his  family  back 
to  Ballybor  Barracks,  where 
they  were  fed  and  warmed ; 
but  in  Ireland  nowadays  a 
police  barracks  is  no  place  for 
little  children  and  women,  and 
before  night  they  must  leave. 
In  vain  the  sergeant  tried  to 
find  lodgings ;  he  might  as 
well  have  tried  to  swim  the 
Atlantic.  Every  door  was 
slammed  in  his  face  directly 
he  made  his  appeal.  But  the 
good  Samaritan  is  not  yet 
extinct  in  Ireland,  and  at  last 
the  sergeant  found  a  refuge  for 
his  family  in  the  empty  gar- 
dener's lodge  of  Ballybor 
House. 

While  being  turned  out 
of  Cloghleagh  Barracks,  Mrs 
O'Bryan  had  recognised  two 
of  the  incendiaries,  who  had 
taken  their  masks  off,  as  two 
prominent  Sinn  Fein  shop-boys 
of  Ballybor,  afterwards  telling 
her  husband  their  names — 
Martin  Walsh  and  Peter  Lynch 
— and  the  sergeant  never  for- 
got them. 

On  a  glorious  June  day 
Blake  was  leaning  over  the 
parapet  of  the  lower  bridge 
crossing  the  Owenmore  river 
in  Ballybor,  watching  the  fisher- 
men hauling  in  a  net  full  of 
silvery  grilse,  and  wishing  that 
he  could  accept  an  invitation 
to  fish  at  Ardcumber.  After 
a  time  his  eye  wandered  to  a 


206 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Aug. 


fleet  of  boats  below  the  bridge, 
some  anchored,  while  others 
were  attached  to  mooring  buoys. 
From  force  of  habit  he  started 
to  count  them,  and  on  finding 
that  there  were  no  less  than 
thirty-seven,  he  began  to  make 
out  their  total  carrying  capa- 
city, which  roughly  came  to 
the  high  figure  of  three  hun- 
dred. 

On  the  following  Sunday  he 
happened  to  be  crossing  the 
same  bridge  at  about  ten  in 
the  morning,  and  stopped  to 
look  at  three  boats,  packed 
with  young  men,  a  few  carrying 
fishing-rods,  starting  off  down 
the  river.  The  fishing-rods 
were  there  right  enough,  but 
something  seemed  wrong  ;  the 
men  looked  too  purposeful,  and, 
moreover,  eight  or  nine  young 
men  in  a  boat  with  a  couple 
of  rods  is  an  unusual  sight. 

Blake  watched  the  boats  dis- 
appearing fast  down  the  river, 
and  wondered  what  would  be 
the  right  word  to  substitute 
for  fishing.  After  a  while  he 
realised  that  there  was  not  a 
boat  left  on  the  river,  and, 
further,  that  if  all  the  boats 
had  carried  as  many  passengers 
as  the  three  he  had  just  seen 
start,  over  three  hundred  young 
men  from  Ballybor  had  gone 
a-fishing  that  Sunday  morning, 
the  majority  of  whom,  if  not 
all  of  them,  were  shop-boys, 
the  most  dangerous  element  in 
the  town. 

The  barracks  commanded  a 
good  view  of  the  reach  of  the 
river  where  the  boats  were 
usually  moored,  and  next  Sun- 
day^at  an  early  hour  Blake 


told  off  Sergeant  O'Bryan  with 
a  pair  of  field-glasses  to  report 
how  many  boats  and  how  many 
men  went  out  a-fishing.  At 
eleven  o'clock  the  sergeant  re- 
ported that,  as  usual,  all  the 
thirty-seven  boats  had  started, 
carrying  two  hundred  and  fifty 
young  men,  and  that  among 
them  he  had  recognised  most 
of  the  prominent  Sinn  Fein 
shop -boys  of  the  town.  But 
he  did  not  add  that  he  had 
seen  Walsh  and  Lynch. 

Five  miles  below  Ballybor 
the  Owenmore  river,  from  being 
roughly  two  hundred  yards 
wide,  suddenly  becomes  an  in- 
land sea,  with  a  width  of  over 
three  miles  and  a  length  of  a 
mile.  Between  this  inland  water 
and  the  open  sea  runs  a  long 
narrow  range  of  sand-hills,  com- 
monly known  as  Seal  Island, 
nearly  three  miles  long  and 
with  an  average  width  of  four 
hundred  yards. 

Blake  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  fishing  expeditions 
every  Sunday  must  be  con- 
nected with  this  lonely  island  ; 
but  except  for  drilling — and 
sand-dunes  did  not  seem  a  suit- 
able place  for  a  parade — he 
could  think  of  nothing  to  which 
this  island  would  lend  itself. 
Moreover,  he  knew  that  if  he 
tried  to  find  out  what  was 
going  on  by  observing  from  the 
mainland,  he  would  be  spotted 
and  the  alarm  given,  and  that 
if  he  tried  to  approach  the 
island  in  a  boat  from  the  sea- 
side the  fishermen  from  Doon- 
carra  would  give  him  away. 

In  the  end  it  was  settled  to 
wait  until  the  following  Sun- 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


207 


day,  when  Sergeant  O 'Bryan 
made  his  way  across  country 
before  daylight  and  hid  him- 
self in  the  tower  of  an  old 
abbey  on  the  shore  of  the 
inland  sea,  from  which  the 
greater  part  of  Seal  Island  was 
visible.  On  the  Sunday  night 
he  returned  to  barracks,  and 
reported  that  the  "  fishermen  " 
had  all  landed  at  the  little  pier 
on  the  south  side  of  the  island, 
left  a  small  guard  over  the 
boats,  and  made  their  way  into 
the  sand-hills,  where  they  were 
hidden  from  his  view.  Some 
time  afterwards,  muffled  inter- 
mittent rifle-fire  started,  and 
continued  at  intervals  for  sev- 
eral hours,  after  which  the 
"  fishermen  "  returned  to  their 
boats,  and  rowed  back  leisurely 
to  Ballybor  on  the  flood  tide. 

But  before  Blake  could  tackle 
the  mystery  of  Seal  Island,  he 
had  to  turn  his  attention  to 
a  flying  column  of  the  I.E. A. 
which  was  reported  to  be  mak- 
ing its  way  towards  Ballybor. 
On  the  Sunday  evening  when 
O 'Bryan  returned  from  the  old 
abbey,  word  was  brought  in 
by  a  Loyalist  that  the  flying 
column  had  been  seen  that  day 
in  the  Ballyrick  mountains, 
and  had  taken  up  its  quarters 
in  the  empty  house  of  Mr 
Padraig  O'Faherty,  member  of 
Bail  Eireann  for  the  Ballybor 
country,  who  had  been  for 
some  time  past  an  unwilling 
guest  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment somewhere  in  England. 

Padraig  O'Paherty's  house 
was  (advisably  was)  situated 
in  the  middle  of  a  desolate 
valley  in  the  mountains  twenty 


miles  from  Ballyrick  and  the 
same  distance  from  Ballybor, 
and  could  only  be  approached 
by  a  bog  road,  which  winds 
through  mountains  and  moors 
without  passing  a  single  human 
habitation  for  the  last  eight 
miles.  Moreover,  there  was 
not  a  tree  within  fifteen  miles 
of  the  house,  so  that  any 
attempt  at  surprise,  or  even 
attack,  during  the  daytime 
was  out  of  the  question.  At 
the  first  sight  of  a  Crossley — 
and  they  had  a  three-mile  view 
of  the  road  both  ways  from 
the  house — the  flying  column 
would  simply  dissolve  into  the 
mountains,  probably  to  reap- 
pear the  next  day  attacking  a 
police  barrack  fifty  miles  the 
other  side  of  Ballybor.  A  good 
example  of  the  kind  of  problem 
the  E.I.C.  has  to  solve  daily 
in  the  wild  parts  of  the  West. 

That  night  Blake  left  Bally- 
bor with  an  advance-guard  of 
police  on  bicycles,  and  making 
a  detour  of  the  town,  timed 
himself  to  arrive  at  O'Faherty 's 
house  just  before  daylight,  hav- 
ing arranged  that  Jones  should 
follow  in  the  Crossleys  with 
his  platoon  of  Blankshires  and 
as  many  police  as  could  be 
spared. 

Arriving  too  soon,  they  hid 
their  bicycles  in  some  high 
heather  near  the  road,  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  light  enough 
took  up  positions  at  different 
points  round  the  house,  so  that 
every  avenue  of  escape  would 
be  swept  by  their  rifle-fire,  and 
waited  for  the  main  body  to 
arrive. 

As    the    sky    became    light, 


208 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


[Aug. 


smoke  could  be  seen  rising 
from  some  of  the  chimneys, 
a  suspicious  sign  at  that  hour 
of  the  morning,  and  shortly 
afterwards  four  young  men 
appeared  at  the  door,  yawn- 
ing and  stretching  themselves. 
After  examining  the  valley  in 
every  direction  with  field-glasses, 
they  proceeded  to  bring  about 
forty  bicycles  out  of  a  stable 
and  park  them  in  military 
formation  outside,  after  which 
they  re-entered  the  house. 

During  the  next  hour  nothing 
happened,  and  just  as  Blake 
had  given  up  all  hope  of  the 
main  body  arriving  and  was 
thinking  of  trying  to  rush  the 
house  with  his  small  force,  a 
large  party  of  men  started  to 
leave  the  house  and  make  for 
the  bicycles,  and  Blake  was 
forced  to  give  the  order  to  open 
fire. 

Several  men  were  seen  to 
drop  at  once,  while  the  rest 
rushed  back  into  the  house, 
carrying  their  wounded  with 
them,  and  in  a  minute  heavy 
fire  was  opened  from  every 
window  in  the  house  on  the 
police  positions,  the  firing  of 
a  single  shot  by  a  policeman 
being  the  signal  for  a  hail  of 
bullets  in  that  direction. 

Blake  was  now  getting  very 
anxious  at  the  non-arrival  of 
Jones's  party,  fearing  that  in- 
stead of  capturing  the  flying 
column,  the  Volunteers  might 
capture  the  police ;  and  in 
order  to  deceive  them,  ordered 
his  men  to  withhold  their  fire 
unless  the  Volunteers  tried  to 
rush  them.  At  last  Jones 
turned  up,  having  been  de- 


layed repeatedly  by  punctures, 
and  completed  a  strong  cordon 
round  the  house. 

Blake  now  attempted  to  draw 
the  cordon  closer,  but  every 
time  the  police  and  soldiers 
tried  to  advance  by  short  rushes 
under  heavy  covering  fire,  the 
Volunteers  opened  such  accu- 
rate fire  from  every  window, 
including  machine-gun  fire  from 
one  of  the  upper  rooms,  that 
he  had  to  desist.  Eventually 
the  soldiers  silenced  the  ma- 
chine -  gun  with  their  Lewis 
guns. 

After  getting  to  within  three 
hundred  yards  of  the  house, 
Blake  found  that,  owing  to  the 
formation  of  the  ground,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  advance 
any  nearer  without  very  heavy 
losses,  and  refused  to  allow 
Jones  to  make  an  assault  with 
his  men  until  all  other  means 
of  reducing  the  place  had  failed. 

The  day  was  now  wearing 
on,  and  for  several  hours  the 
situation  had  remained  a  com- 
plete deadlock.  The  Volun- 
teers were  obviously  marking 
time  until  darkness  set  in, 
when  they  would  stand  a  good 
chance  of  slipping  through  the 
cordon  ;  and  Blake  fully  real- 
ised that  if  he  did  not  win 
during  daylight,  he  would  surely 
lose  in  the  dark. 

Blake  and  Jones  lay  in  the 
heather  close  together,  arguing 
as  to  whether  they  should  try 
to  assault  the  house  or  not. 
Jones  was  keen  to  try,  while 
Blake  feared  a  failure  with 
heavy  losses.  The  day  was  by 
now  blazing  hot,  with  a  steady 
south  wind,  and  Jones,  after 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


209 


lighting  a  cigarette,  carelessly 
threw  the  match  away  alight, 
and  in  a  second  the  dry  heather 
took  fire,  and  was  only  extin- 
guished with  great  difficulty. 
But  the  fire  had  given  Blake 
the  idea  he  had  been  hunting 
for  so  long. 

Collecting  all  the  matches 
that  the  men  possessed,  Jones 
made  his  way  round  to  the 
south  side  of  the  house,  and 
distributed  them  amongst  all 
the  men  there,  who,  at  a  given 
signal,  set  fire  to  the  heather 
in  front  of  them,  and  as  soon 
as  the  house  was  enveloped  in 
a  cloud  of  smoke,  the  whole 
force  charged  for  the  house. 
As  soon  as  they  got  within 
range,  the  police  hurled  Mills' 
bombs  through  every  window, 
and  the  soldiers  then  dashed 
in  with  fixed  bayonets,  but 
the  bombs  had  done  the 
work. 

They  found  that  the  Volun- 
teers had  suffered  heavily,  hard- 
ly a  man  escaping  a  bomb 
splinter  or  a  Lewis-gun  bullet, 
and  the  question  was  how  to 
remove  so  many  wounded.  In 
the  house  they  found  bed  and 
bedding  for  fully  forty  men, 
and  a  great  supply  of  fresh  and 
tinned  food  ;  also  rifles  (chiefly 
Mauser),  American  shot-guns, 
automatics,  revolvers,  a  quan- 
tity of  ammunition,  and  a  good 
stock  of  home-made  bombs  in 
a  kind  of  cellar. 

Not  having  enough  transport, 
Blake  sent  off  a  fast  car  to  ask 
for  help  from  the  County  In- 
spector. Before  leaving,  Blake 
blew  up  Mr  Padraig  O'Faherty's 
house  with  the  Volunteers' 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXX. 


bombs,  and  the  party  returned 
to  Ballybor  before  dark,  vic- 
torious, but  worn  out. 

As  soon  as  they  had  had 
some  sleep,  Blake  and  Jones 
started  to  work  out  their  plans 
for  a  surprise  attack  on  Seal 
Island  the  following  Sunday, 
and  found  that  they  had  a 
difficult  task  before  them. 

Except  at  the  east  and  west 
ends  of  the  island,  where  the 
two  channels  of  the  river  cut 
through  the  ridge  of  sand-hills, 
all  approaches  were  visible  for 
a  long  distance,  and  any 
idea  of  surprise  out  of  the 
question.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  an  attempt  was  made  to 
cross  the  channels,  the  Volun- 
teers would  have  ample  time 
to  reach  their  boats  at  the  pier 
in  the  middle  of  the  south 
shore  and  so  escape,  while  at 
a  low  tide  it  was  possible  to 
walk  across  at  one  point  to 
the  mainland. 

In  the  end  they  gave  it  up, 
and  went  to  consult  the  C.I., 
who  decided  to  call  in  the 
assistance  of  the  Navy. 

On  Sunday  morning  Sergeant 
O 'Bryan  duly  reported  that 
the  boats  had  gone  down  the 
river,  as  usual  with  full  crews. 
The  previous  night  a  destroyer 
had  crept  into  the  bay  with  all 
lights  covered,  and  after  land- 
ing a  large  party  of  blue- 
jackets on  Seal  Island,  had 
left  again. 

After  allowing  sufficient  time 
for  the  Volunteers  to  land  and 
get  to  work,  Blake  followed  in 
a  commandeered  motor-launch, 
and  at  the  same  time  Jones 
left  the  barracks  with  his  pla- 


210 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


[Aug. 


toon  in  two  Crossleys,  each 
with  a  Lewis  gun,  one  party 
making  for  the  western  mouth 
of  the  river,  and  the  other  for 
the  eastern,  where  they  pro- 
ceeded to  take  up  positions 
covering  all  escape  across  the 
channels. 

About  three  hundred  yards 
from  the  pier  on  Seal  Island, 
Blake  and  his  men  landed  on 
a  small  round  green  island 
called  Gannet  Island,  and  took 
up  positions  covering  the  boats 
lying  alongside  the  pier.  Di- 
rectly they  landed,  a  small 
group  of  men  were  seen  to 
leave  the  pier  and  disappear 
into  the  sand-dunes.  Mean- 
while the  launch,  with  a  ma- 
chine-gun mounted  in  the  bows, 
proceeded  to  patrol  along  the 
south  shore  of  the  island  over 
the  shallow  water. 

After  a  short  time  heavy 
firing  broke  out  in  the  sand- 
hills and  then  died  down,  to 
break  out  again  as.  a  large 
body  of  Volunteers  streamed 
towards  the  pier  ;  but  before 
they  could  reach  their  boats, 
Blake's  men  on  Gannet  Island 
opened  fire  on  them,  and  the 
launch  sprayed  them  well  with 
its  machine-gun.  The  Volun- 
teers seemed  nonplussed  and 
at  a  loss  what  to  do  ;  but  the 
bluejackets,  advancing  in  open 
order  with  fixed  bayonets  from 
the  sand-hills,  quickly  decided 
them,  and  they  made  for  the 
east  end  of  the  island,  dis- 
appearing into  a  hollow  followed 
by  the  bluejackets. 

Again  heavy  firing  broke  out 
from  the  direction  of  the  hollow, 


and  continued  at  intervals  for 
over  an  hour.  Fearing  that 
something  was  wrong,  Blake 
then  embarked  his  men  on  the 
launch,  and  after  landing  at 
the  pier,  proceeded  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  firing,  to  find  the 
Volunteers  holding  a  large  house 
which  so  far  the  sailors  had 
failed  to  take. 

The  house  came  as  a  surprise 
to  the  police,  none  of  whom 
had  ever  set  foot  on  the  island 
before,  and  there  seemed  every 
prospect  of  another  deadlock. 
The  house  was  old,  well  built, 
and  commanded  a  fine  field  of 
fire  in  every  direction. 

But  sailors  are  handy  men, 
and  after  a  consultation  with 
Blake,  the  lieutenant  in  com- 
mand decided  to  signal  to  his 
destroyer,  which  had  anchored 
in  the  bay  again,  to  open  fire 
with  her  guns  on  the  house. 
After  trying  in  vain  to  get  a 
direct  view  of  the  house,  the 
destroyer  opened  indirect  fire, 
a  sailor  on  a  high  sand-hill 
signalling  the  result  of  each 
shot.  Unfortunately  the  house 
was  so  sheltered  by  the  sides 
of  the  hollow  that  nothing 
short  of  a  howitzer  could  have 
reached  it. 

But  the  sailors  were  not 
beaten.  After  putting  farther 
out  to  sea,  the  destroyer  tried 
again,  and  this  time  at  the 
third  shot  got  home  with  a 
direct  hit,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
it  was  seen  that  the  house  was 
on  fire. 

Sailors  and  police  now  held 
their  fire,  and  waited  for  the 
exciting  moment  when  the  Vol- 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


211 


unteers  would  be  forced  by  the 
flames  to  bolt.  A  quarter  of 
an  hour,  half  an  hour  passed, 
but  not  a  Volunteer  bolted 
from  the  now  fiercely  burning 
house.  At  last  the  roof  fell 
in  with  a  crash  and  shower  of 
sparks,  and  every  man  gripped 
his  rifle,  thinking  that  at  last 
the  rebels  would  be  smoked 
out;  but  nothing  happened. 
They  had  either  vanished  into 
thin  air  or  were  roasted  alive. 
Still  the  sailors  and  police 
waited  on,  thinking  that  in 
the  end  somebody  must  come 
out.  Without  any  warning 
one  gable-end  of  the  house 
suddenly  fell  outwards,  and 
simultaneously  firing  broke  out 
from  the  east  channel  of  the 
river,  about  five  hundred  yards 
away. 

The  spell  was  now  broken, 
and  every  man  dashed  in 
the  direction  of  the  firing. 
When  they  reached  high  ground 
they  could  see  many  of  the 
Volunteers  swimming  across 
the  channel,  while  those  who 
could  not  swim  were  running 
towards  the  north  side  of  the 
island. 

The  half -platoon  of  the  Blank- 
shires,  with  Sergeant  O 'Bryan 
as  a  guide,  had  taken  up  their 
position  in  the  sand-hills  on 
the  mainland  commanding  the 
passage  across  the  east  channel, 
and  had  only  been  interested 
spectators  of  parts  of  the  battle 
up  to  the  time  the  gable  fell, 
when,  to  their  astonishment, 
they  suddenly  saw  the  Volun- 


teers streaming  out  of  the  sand- 
hills and  dashing  into  the  river 
in  front  of  them. 

Foremost  among  the  swim- 
mers Sergeant  O 'Bryan  saw,  to 
his  great  joy,  the  heads  of 
Walsh  and  Lynch,  their  foot- 
long  hair  floating  like  manes 
behind  them,  and  knew  that 
his  enemies  had  been  delivered 
into  his  hands.  By  the  time 
the  swimmers  reached  the  main- 
land, and  found  themselves 
covered  by  the  rifles  and  Lewis 
gun  of  the  soldiers,  they  had 
had  enough,  and  put  up  their 
hands  of  their  own  accord. 

The  sailors  and  police  now 
beat  the  island  towards  the 
west  end,  and  after  a  hard 
scramble  over  the  sand-hills 
captured  the  remaining  Volun- 
teers. 

A  careful  search  of  the  place 
where  the  Volunteers  had  sud- 
denly appeared  out  of  the 
ground  showed  that  there  was 
an  underground  passage  run- 
ning from  the  house  to  within 
a  short  distance  of  the  shore, 
probably  used  in  former  days 
for  smuggling  purposes. 

A  further  search  explained 
the  reason  of  the  Volunteers' 
Sunday  visits  to  the  island. 
In  a  valley  of  the  sand-hills 
they  found  an  up-to-date  rifle- 
range,  and  afterwards  learnt 
that  it  had  been  built  during 
the  early  part  of  the  war,  and 
frequently  used  for  firing  mus- 
ketry courses  by  units  of  the 
New  Armies  training  in  Ire- 
land. 


212 


Tales  oftheR.I.C. 


[Aug. 


XIV.   A  FAMILY  AFFAIR. 


The  mac  Nessa,  Prince  of 
Murrisk,  claimed  descent  from 
one  of  the  Nine  Hostages ; 
and  though  proud  of  his  lineage, 
he  was  still  prouder  of  the  boast 
that,  up  to  comparatively  re- 
cent times,  not  one  of  his  an- 
cestors had  died  in  his  bed. 
A  violent  death  in  some  form 
or  other,  chiefly  the  "  mid- 
doge,"  accounting  for  ode  and 
aU. 

Murrisk  Abbey  is  a  modern 
house,  as  old  places  go  in 
Ireland,  but  in  the  grounds 
there  are  the  ruins  of  a  very 
old  castle,  built  in  the  days 
when  the  O'Fogartys  ruled  a 
countryside  as  far  as  a  horse 
could  gallop  in  any  direction 
during  the  hours  of  daylight. 
Here  the  mac  Nessa  had  spent 
most  of  his  life,  hunting,  shoot- 
ing, fishing,  and  farming,  and 
incidentally  bringing  up  a 
family  of  two  sons  and  four 
daughters. 

Both  the  sons,  Cormac  and 
Dominic,  had  served  during 
the  war  in  the  British  Army. 
Dominic  willingly  and  eagerly, 
and  Cormac,  the  elder,  only 
because  he  feared  his  father, 
who  was  a  staunch  Loyalist. 

The  spring  of  1919  found 
the  two  brothers  at  home. 
Cormac  for  good  and  all  as  he 
believed,  and  Dominic  until 
he  could  decide  how  and  where 
to  make  a  living. 

In  England  there  is  nowadays 
a  large  class  whose  one  and 
only  object  in  life  appears  to 
be  to  take  sides  with  any  and 


every  enemy  of  their  country, 
be  he  Boer,  Boche,  Bolshevik, 
or  Sinn  Feiner.  This  party 
never  ceases  to  aid  and  abet 
these  enemies  by  every  means 
in  their  power,  short  of  endan- 
gering their  own  skins,  and  at 
the  same  time  never  let  an 
opportunity  pass  of  accusing 
our  soldiers  and  police  (in 
Ireland)  of  every  abominable 
crime  which  man  has  been 
known  to  commit.  During  the 
war  this  class  of  Englishmen 
greatly  puzzled  and  irritated 
the  French,  as  they  have  every 
nation  that  has  ever  admired 
the  British  as  a  race.  A  French 
interpreter  once  said  to  a  Brit- 
ish officer,  "  Many  of  your  race 
are  noble,  the  rest  are  swine." 

In  Ireland,  by  some  lucky 
chance,  we  have  escaped  this 
detestable  and  despicable  breed 
of  man,  to  whom  a  sincere 
rebel  is  infinitely  preferable, 
but  at  the  same  time  we  have 
a  class  of  men  and  women  who 
are  first  cousins  to  them.  In 
many  good  Irish  families,  noted 
for  generations  past  for  their 
unswerving  loyalty,  there  is 
often  one  member  who  is  an 
out  -  and  -  out  rebel.  Luckily 
he  or  she  has  generally  less 
brains  than  the  rest  of  the 
family,  and  is  looked  upon  as 
a  harmless  lunatic,  and  one  of 
the  crosses  which  have  to  be 
borne  in  the  world. 

A  plausible  reason  often  ad- 
vanced for  this  sporadic  ap- 
pearance of  a  rebel  in  a  loyal 
family  is  the  complete  lack  of 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


213 


conversation  at  the  dinner- 
table,  once  sport  has  been 
exhausted,  when  all  members 
of  a  family  see  eye  to  eye  in 
politics  ;  and  as  a  "  mutual 
admiration  society "  quickly 
palls  on  many  young  men  and 
women,  one  member  expresses 
contrary  political  opinions  to 
the  others  out  of  pure  cussed- 
ness,  and  the  anger  and  re- 
criminations of  the  rest  quickly 
turn  the  bored  jibber  into  a 
red-hot  rebel. 

Not  many  weeks  after  the 
brothers  had  returned  home 
from  the  war,  Cormac,  who  had 
spent  many  hours  of  his  youth 
reading  books  and  pamphlets 
on  the  wrongs  England  had 
inflicted  on  Ireland  instead  of 
hunting  and  shooting,  and  had 
even  appeared  at  breakfast 
once  in  a  weird  ginger-coloured 
kilt,  raised  the  red  flag  of  Sinn 
Fein  one  evening  at  the  dinner- 
table.  Probably  he  did  it 
from  sheer  boredom,  hoping  to 
draw  his  father  into  a  wordy 
argument  and  so  pass  the  time. 
The  result,  however,  had  a 
far  -  reaching  effect  on  the 
lives  of  both  Cormac  and 
Dominic. 

The  mac  Nessa  was  a  big 
man  and  Cormac  was  not,  and 
but  for  the  intervention  of 
Dominic,  the  elder  son  would 
probably  have  had  an  unplea- 
sant and  painful  eviction  from 
the  dinner-table.  However,  the 
old  chieftain  controlled  himself 
with  a  great  effort,  but  as  soon 
as  the  servants  had  withdrawn 
he  ordered  Cormac  to  leave  the 
house  the  following  morning 
for  good  and  all,  and  in  a  sullen 


rage  Cormac  stalked  out  of  the 
room. 

Leaving  word  with  the  butler 
to  pack  his  kit,  Cormac  made 
his  way  to  the  house  of  the 
parish  priest,  about  two  and 
a  half  miles  from  the  abbey, 
where,  being  a  Eoman  Catholic, 
he  hoped  to  receive  sympathy. 

If  there  is  one  Church  in  the 
world  which  might  be  expected 
to  range  itself  whole-heartedly 
on  the  side  of  law  and  order 
it  is  the  Church  of  Eome, 
whose  very  existence  depends 
on  obedience,  and  it  must  have 
been  a  source  of  wonder  to 
many  English  people  why,  at 
the  very  beginning  of  the  Sinn 
Fein  movement,  this  Church 
did  not  at  once  come  into 
the  open  and  denounce  Sinn 
Fein  from  the  altar  in  plain 
and  unmistakable  terms.  Any 
thinking  priest  must  know  that 
under  a  semi-Bolshevik  republic 
the  power  of  the  Eoman  Catho- 
lic Church  would  be  gone,  and 
gone  for  ever. 

Cormac  found  the  old  priest 
kind  and  gentle  as  ever,  but 
firm  in  his  refusal  to  listen  to 
any  Sinn  Fein  views,  and  in 
a  fresh  rage  he  left  to  make 
his  way  to  the  curate's  lodging 
in  a  neighbouring  farmhouse, 
and  here  he  was  received  with 
open  arms. 

The  curate  quickly  perceived 
what  a  valuable  recruit  Cormac 
might  make,  and  before  he 
left  to  spend  his  last  night  at 
the  abbey,  took  advantage  of 
the  boy's  excited  mood  to  make 
him  swear  to  join  the  I.E.A. 

After  a  very  early  breakfast, 
Cormac  left  his  home  on?  the 


214 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Aug. 


fifteen-mile  drive  to  Ballybor, 
where  he  caught  the  mail  train 
for  Dublin,  his  heart  full  of 
hatred  of  his  family,  and  his 
mind  set  on  revenge. 

A  week  of  dirty  Dublin 
lodgings  convinced  Cormac  that 
he  had  made  a  fool  of  himself, 
and  putting  his  pride  in  his 
pocket,  he  wrote  to  his  father 
asking  to  be  allowed  to  return 
home.  By  return  of  post  came 
a  typewritten  post-card  from 
the  mac  Nessa  to  the  effect 
that  while  he  lived  no  rebel 
should  ever  darken  his  door. 

That  evening  two  strangers 
called  at  his  rooms,  and  after 
making  certain  of  his  identity, 
explained  that  a  message  had 
been  received  at  the  Sinn  Fein 
headquarters  in  Dublin  from 
Father  Michael  of  Murrisk  that 
Cormac  was  prepared  to  join 
in  the  Sinn  Fein  movement, 
and  offering  him  a  high-sound- 
ing position.  Cormac's  vanity 
was  flattered,  and  he  accepted 
at  once. 

Knowing  that  Cormac's  name 
would  carry  great  weight  with 
many  half-hearted  supporters 
and  waverers,  the  Sinn  Fein 
leaders  employed  him  solely 
on  propaganda  work,  sending 
him  to  every  part  of  the 
country,  not  excepting  the 
North,  to  speak  at  meetings, 
and  always  taking  good  care 
that  his  name  appeared  in 
large  letters  on  the  posters, 
and  kind  friends  were  not 
wanting  to  send  the  mac  Nessa 
cuttings  of  his  son's  speeches 
from  every  Irish  and  English 
paper  in  which  they  appeared. 

During   his   travels    Cormac 


at  different  times  met  in  trains 
and  hotels  many  friends  of  his 
own  class,  who  one  and  all, 
to  their  great  credit,  refused 
to  speak  to  him,  and  this  treat- 
ment embittered  him  still  more 
against  all  Loyalists,  more  espe- 
cially against  his  father  and 
brother. 

After  one  trip  to  a  town  in 
the  South,  where  he  had  tried 
to  enter  a  club,  and  had  been 
ejected  by  the  hall  porter,  he 
offered  himself  on  his  return 
to  Dublin  for  "  active  service," 
and  was  at  once  sent  to  the 
Ballybor  district  to  organise 
outrages,  the  Sinn  Fein  leaders 
knowing  that  the  name  of 
O'Fogarty  was  one  to  conjure 
with  in  that  country  even  in 
these  days. 

In  the  meantime  Dominic 
had  been  asked  by  the  authori- 
ties to  join  the  newly -formed 
Auxiliary  Division  of  the  E.I.C., 
in  order  that  his  knowledge  of 
the  Ballybor  country  might  be 
utilised,  and  after  a  short  train- 
ing in  Dublin  found  himself 
quartered  in  Ballybor  with  a 
platoon  of  Cadets. 

By  a  coincidence  the  two 
brothers  arrived  in  Ballybor 
within  a  week  of  each  other, 
Cormac  an  avowed  Sinn  Feiner, 
and  Dominic  an  officer  in  the 
Auxiliaries,  who  were  about 
to  take  on  the  rebels  at  their 
own  breed  of  warfare. 

Every  kind  of  news  travels 
fast  in  country  districts  in  Ire- 
land, and  within  twelve  hours 
of  the  brothers'  arrival  it  is 
doubtful  if  you  could  have 
found,  even  in  the  mountains 
of  Ballyrick,  a  child  who  did 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


215 


not  know  of  the  O'Fogartys' 
return.  Moreover,  there  is 
nothing  an  Irishman  loves  more 
than  a  fight,  and  one  between 
two  brothers  of  the  best-known 
family  in  three  counties,  with 
armed  men  at  their  back,  was 
something  worth  looking  for- 
ward to,  even  in  these  days  of 
murder  and  outrage.  And  at 
local  race-meetings  in  the  West 
bets  were  freely  taken  on  the 
issue  of  the  fight  between  Cor- 
mac  and  Dominic  O'Fogarty. 

All  thought  of  King  or  Ee- 
public  was  now  completely  for- 
gotten in  Ballybor,  and  for 
many  miles  around  the  country- 
side was  divided  into  two 
camps.  Most  of  the  Volun- 
teers, all  nominally,  were  for 
Cormac,  whilst  all  Loyalists 
and  a  good  many  Volunteers 
secretly  supported  Dominic, 
with  the  result  that,  so  keen 
were  both  sides  to  outmano3uvre 
each  other,  the  police  obtained 
far  more  information  than  they 
had  for  a  long  time  past. 

Dominic  made  up  his  mind 
to  take  the  offensive  straight 
away,  and  learning  from  one 
of  his  Volunteer  sympathisers 
that  his  brother,  when  in  Bally- 
bor, always  slept  in  the  house 
of  a  man  called  Ryan,  made 
arrangements  to  raid  the  place, 
and  at  any  rate  to  put  Cormac 
out  of  action  for  some  time  to 
come. 

However,  Cormac  learning  of 
his  brother's  kindly  intention, 
thought  that  it  would  be  an 
excellent  opportunity  to  raid 
Murrisk  for  arms  on  that  par- 
ticular night,  and  incidentally 
to  get  some  of  his  own  back 


from  his  father.  Leaving  Bally- 
bor as  soon  as  it  was  dark 
with  a  dozen  men,  they  bicycled 
to  Murrisk,  and  after  parking 
their  machines  in  a  wood  near 
the  main  road,  proceeded  to 
knock  up  the  house.  The  butler 
opened  the  door,  but  did  not 
recognise  Cormac  in  a  mask, 
though  his  walk  seemed  vaguely 
familiar  to  him. 

The  madsTessa  was  no  coward, 
and  on  entering  the  inner  hall, 
the  raiders  found  themselves 
covered  by  the  old  man  with 
a  double  -  barrelled  shot  -  gun. 
Cormac  had  expected  that  his 
father  would  show  fight,  and 
knowing  where  the  electric  light 
switch  was  in  the  hall,  had 
arranged  with  his  men  that 
when  he  turned  the  light  off 
they  should  throw  themselves 
flat  on  the  floor. 

As  the  light  went  out  the 
mac  Nessa  fired  both  barrels, 
which  went  harmlessly  over 
the  raiders'  heads,  and  before 
he  could  reload  they  had  him 
down  and  tied  up.  Cormac 
then  turned  on  the  light,  and 
by  now,  half-mad  with  rage 
and  excitement,  would  have 
gone  for  his  father  ;  but  his 
men  kept  him  back,  and  when 
they  had  secured  all  the  arms 
in  the  house  under  Cormac's 
directions,  they  hustled  him 
away. 

In  the  meantime  Dominic 
with  a  party  of  Cadets  had 
raided  Eyan's  house,  but,  of 
course,  drew  blank. 

Early  the  next  morning  a 
mounted  messenger  brought 
word  to  the  barracks  in  Bally- 
bor that  Cormac  and  a  party 


216 


Tales  of  the  EJ.C. 


[Aug. 


of  armed  and  masked  men  had 
raided  Murrisk  during  the  night 
and  removed  all  arms  and 
ammunition.  That  afternoon 
Dominic  put  up  large  notices 
all  over  Ballybor  to  the  effect 
that  if  he  caught  Cormac  in 
the  town  he  would  horsewhip 
him  in  the  market-place. 

Both  the  town  and  country- 
side were  in  a  wild  state  of 
excitement  after  the  Murrisk 
raid,  Cormac's  supporters  ac- 
claiming his  victory,  while 
Dominic's  could  only  reply, 
"  Wait  and  see."  And  so  keen 
were  Dominic's  party  to  help 
their  man,  that  information  of 
every  possible  kind  and  de- 
scription literally  poured  into 
the  barracks  by  every  post. 

Like  children,  as  ever,  the 
people  quickly  forgot  that  they 
were  either  Loyalists  or  rebels, 
the  blood -feud  between  the 
two  brothers  being  far  more 
interesting  and  exciting;  and 
it  is  probable  that,  if  only 
sufficient  arms  had  been  forth- 
coming on  both  sides,  the 
brothers'  feud  would  have  de- 
veloped into  a  pitched  battle, 
and  if  the  police  had  interfered 
both  parties  would  then  have 
joined  forces  and  turned  on 
the  common  enemy. 

After  leaving  Murrisk,  Cor- 
mac, knowing  that  Ballybor 
would  now  be  too  hot  for  him, 
made  for  some  caves  in  the 
Slievenamoe  Mountains  to  the 
east  of  the  town,  and  here  he 
remained.  Some  time  before 
these  caves  had  been  fitted  up 
like  dug-outs  in  France,  while 
the  food  supply  gave  no  diffi- 
culty, every  house  at  the  foot 


of  the  mountains  having  to 
supply  rations  on  requisition 
for  any  gunmen  using  these 
caves.  Here  Cormac  had  plenty 
of  time  on  his  hands,  and 
thought  out  a  clever  plan  to 
put  Dominic  out  of  action. 

Shortly  before  Cormac  raided 
Murrisk,  a  new  and  simple 
manager  had  arrived  at  one 
of  the  Ballybor  banks.  The 
arrival  of  a  new  bank  manager 
in  an  Irish  provincial  town  is 
always  the  signal  for  all  in 
financial  difficulties  to  get  busy 
and  try  their  luck  with  the 
fresh  arrival,  and  amongst  the 
new  manager's  first  visitors 
came  the  Urban  Council,  who 
by  sheer  bluff  managed  to  get 
their  already  big  overdraft  in- 
creased by  some  thousand 
pounds.  A  fresh  election  being 
within  sight,  they  then  pro- 
ceeded to  borrow  a  derelict 
steam-roller  from  the  County 
Council,  who  had  practically 
ceased  to  function,  and  to 
spend  the  money  steam-rolling 
the  streets  of  Ballybor.  In  this 
way  they  hoped  to  catch  the 
votes  of  the  labourers  by  the 
payment  of  high  wages,  and 
of  the  shopkeepers  and  owners 
of  cars  by  improved  streets. 

Being  in  a  great  hurry  to 
get  on  with  the  good  work, 
they  forgot  that  the  streets 
had  never  been  steam-rolled 
before,  and  that  the  gas-  and 
water-pipes  were  very  near  the 
surface,  with  the  result  that 
for  every  yard  of  street  the 
roller  passed  over  one  or  more 
gas-  or  water-pipes  burst,  and 
the  town  soon  smelt  like  the 
inside  of  a  gas-works. 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  E.I.  C. 


217 


The  consequent  proceedings 
give  a  very  fair  idea  of  the 
Celtic  capacity  for  public  affairs, 
and  of  how  the  country  would 
be  run  under  "  Home  Eule," 
or  any  other  kind  of  rule  except 
the  "  Union." 

Instead  of  stopping  the  steam- 
rolling  until  all  mains  and  pipes 
had  been  relaid  at  a  sufficient 
depth  to  resist  the  rolling,  they 
solemnly  proceeded  to  roll, 
burst,  and  mend  from  one  end 
of  the  main  street  to  the  other, 
to  the  huge  delight  of  all  the 
local  plumbers,  who  also  had 
votes. 

Luckily  the  money  was  ex- 
hausted by  the  time  the  main 
street  was  finished,  and  though 
the  greater  part  of  the  surface 
was  excellent,  the  ridges  made 
by  digging  up  the  pipes  at  in- 
tervals would  break  the  axle 
of  an  unsuspecting  stranger's 
car,  to  the  great  benefit  of  the 
local  garages. 

The  police  barracks  at  Bally- 
bor  are  situated  in  a  "cul-de- 
sac  "  off  the  main  street,  at 
the  corners  of  which  stand  the 
principal  hotel  and  a  bank,  and 
all  cars  going  to  or  from  the 
barracks  must  pass  this  corner. 

Word  was  brought  to  Cormac 
in  his  mountain  dug-out  that 
his  brother  left  Ballybor  Bar- 
racks early  every  morning  with 
a  Crossley  full  of  Cadets,  and 
that  they  spent  the  whole  day 
and  often  most  of  the  night 
searching  the  surrounding  coun- 
try for  him.  Before  leaving 
Ballybor  he  had  witnessed  the 
steam-rolling  comic  opera,  and 
bicycling  by  night  to  Bally- 
bor, he  lay  up  during  the  day, 

I    VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXX. 


got  in  touch  with  a  plumber, 
borrowed  his  tools  and  barrow, 
and  late  that  afternoon  (in  the 
plumber's  clothes,  and  slouch 
hat  pulled  well  over  his  face) 
started  to  dig  up  the  road  be- 
tween the  bank  and  the  hotel. 

Human  nature  always  seems 
to  regard  the  digging  up  of  a 
street  in  the  light  of  a  huge 
joke,  and  during  his  work 
Cormac  was  not  only  chaffed 
by  the  bank  manager  and  the 
hotel  loafers,  but  by  the  police 
themselves.  When  it  was  dusk 
he  was  joined  by  a  Volunteer 
with  a  charge  of  gelignite, 
which  had  been  raided  from  a 
Government  ship  off  the  south- 
east coast  and  brought  to  the 
West  by  car,  and  the  two  pro- 
ceeded to  lay  a  contact-mine 
in  the  centre  of  the  road. 
They  then  filled  in  the  earth, 
returned  the  tools  and  barrow 
to  the  plumber,  and  bicycled 
back  to  the  mountains. 

While  Cormac  was  busy  lay- 
ing bis  mine,  Dominic  and 
Blake  were  poring  over  an 
Ordnance-map  in  the  barracks 
not  sixty  yards  away.  Having 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
was  quite  useless  to  search  the 
countryside  piecemeal,  and  hear- 
ing a  rumour  of  what  was  going 
on  in  the  mountains  through 
one  of  the  forced  food  con- 
tractors having  made  a  bitter 
complaint  to  a  passing  police 
patrol,  they  were  now  planning 
to  surround  the  southern  half 
of  the  Slievenamoe  Mountains, 
and  organising  a  great  drive, 
and  the  next  two  days  were 
spent  working  out  the  details. 

About  9  A.M.  a  mineral- water 
H  2 


218 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Aug. 


lorry,  in  order  to  turn,  backed 
up  the  cul-de-sac,  and  the  mine 
being  well  and  truly  laid,  dis- 
appeared in  a  sheet  of  flame, 
wrecking  the  bank  and  hotel. 
Hardly  had  the  sound  of  the 
explosion  died  away,  and  before 
the  police  left  the  barracks  to 
investigate,  every  young  man 
in  Ballybor  of  the  shopkeeper 
class  had  his  bicycle  out  and 
was  off  as  hard  as  he  could 
pedal.  A  Volunteer  greatly 
resembles  a  mountain  hare: 
directly  the  hunt  is  up  he 
makes  at  top  speed  for  high 
ground,  and  the  harder  you 
press  both  the  faster  they  leg 
it  up  the  mountains.  Blake  and 
Dominic  managed  to  control 
their  men,  and  no  reprisals 
followed,  the  only  arrest  being 
the  unfortunate  plumber  who 
had  lent  his  outfit  to  Cormac, 
and  whose  bicycle  had  been 
"  borrowed  "  by  an  agitated 
shop-boy. 

At  the  present  time  a  big 
drive  in  the  West  presents 
great  difficulties.  Very  few, 
often  none,  of  the  E.I.C.  or 
Auxiliaries  know  anything  of 
the  many  wild  and  mountain- 
ous parts  in  their  districts,  and 
the  soldiers  are  invariably  com- 
plete strangers. 

To  reconnoitre  the  ground 
beforehand  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  it  is  difficult  to  induce 
reliable  guides  to  act. 

The  part  of  the  mountains 
Blake  and  Dominic  had  selected 
to  drive  lay  about  nine  miles 
due  east  of  Ballybor,  divided 
by  a  deep  pass  from  the  re- 
mainder of  the  range  to  the 
north,  and  ending  in  a  wild 


rocky  valley  intersected  by  the 
Owenmore  river  to  the  south, 
and  the  total  area  to  be  covered 
was  about  eighteen  square  miles 
of  mountains,  glens,  cliffs,  and 
bogs.  It  was  not  possible  to 
start  operations  before  3  A.M. 
(the  month  being  August),  and 
they  would  have  to  stop  soon 
after  11  P.M.  (summer  time), 
which  gave  them  roughly  twenty 
hours  to  beat  the  eighteen 
square  miles. 

Taking  the  total  number  of 
troops  at  their  disposal,  Blake 
divided  them  into  groups  of 
six,  giving  them  nearly  a  hun- 
dred groups.  Then  Dominic 
picked  out  from  a  contoured 
Ordnance-map  the  same  num- 
ber of  points  surrounding  the 
mountains,  from  all  of  which 
there  was  a  good  view  and 
field  of  fire,  and  it  was  arranged 
that  as  many  groups  as  pos- 
sible should  have  either  a 
Vickers  machine-gun  or  a  Lewis 
gun. 

The  actual  drive  was  to  be 
carried  out  by  the  police.  The 
Cadets  under  Dominic  were  to 
start  from  the  north  end  in  a 
crescent  formation  and  advance 
towards  the  highest  point,  which 
lay  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the 
area,  while  the  E.I.C.  under 
Blake  were  to  advance  from 
the  south. 

Dominic  knew  every  yard 
of  the  mountains,  having  shot 
grouse  there  with  his  brother 
since  boyhood,  but  the  diffi- 
culty was  to  procure  a  guide 
for  Blake's  party,  none  of 
whom  had  ever  set  foot  on  the 
mountains.  With  much  per- 
suasion, however,^Dominic  at 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


219 


last  induced  a  man,  who  had 
been  one  of  the  mac  Nessa's 
game-watchers  on  the  moun- 
tains for  years,  to  act  as  guide. 
This  man  had  to  be  promised 
a  large  sum  of  money,  and  to 
save  him  from  the  revenge  of 
Sinn  Fein,  it  was  arranged  that 
directly  after  the  drive  he 
should  be  safely  got  away  to 
enlist  in  the  British  Army 
under  an  assumed  name,  and, 
if  he  wished,  be  sent  straight 
off  to  India. 

All  officers  and  N.C.O.'s  were 
given  maps  showing  the  posi- 
tion of  every  group  marked, 
and  it  was  arranged  that  the 
police  should  be  in  position  at 
3  A.M.  and  the  troops  half  an 
hour  later.  A  few  days  before 
the  date  fixed  for  the  drive 
Dominic  and  his  Auxiliaries 
disappeared  from  Ballybor,  and 
it  was  given  out  that  they  had 
gone  to  Co.  Cork. 

Sharp  at  3  A.M.,  on  a  perfect 
August  day,  the  drive  began. 
Dominic  and  the  Cadets  had 
to  start  from  the  shores  of  a 
large  lake  lying  in  a  cup  at  the 
top  of  the  pass,  and  climb  a 
thousand  feet  before  reaching 
the  first  valley  in  the  moun- 
tains. At  the  top  they  halted 
for  a  breather  and  to  admire 
the  wonderful  view.  To  the 
east  the  summer  sun  was  fast 
rising,  all  around  them  stretched 
miles  of  heather-clad  hills,  and 
away  to  the  north-west  lay  the 
sea,  a  pearly  grey-blue  in  the 
fast  growing  light. 

After  a  rest  Dominic  got  his 
men  into  formation,  spreading 
them  out  as  far  as  possible 
without  losing  touch,  while  he 


kept  a  small  party  in  the  rear 
to  go  to  any  threatened  point 
where  the  gunmen  might  try 
to  break  through  the  cordon. 
The  Cadets  had  brought  their 
signallers  with  them,  equipped 
with  a  heliograph  and  flags, 
who  remained  with  the  reserve 
party. 

On  reaching  higher  ground 
Dominic  could  see  with  his 
glasses  the  small  groups  of 
soldiers  taking  up  their  posi- 
tions, while  far  away  in  the 
plain  to  the  eastward  the  Owen- 
more  river  wound  like  a  blue 
thread  through  the  dark  bog- 
land.  A  Cadet  on  his  left 
nearly  walked  on  a  pack  of 
grouse,  which  swung  right- 
handed,  passing  within  twenty 
yards  of  Dominic,  and  remind- 
ing him  vividly  of  other  days. 

Very  soon  the  Cadets  began 
to  feel  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and 
the  hard  going  began  to  tell 
on  several  of  them.  Sitting  in 
a  Crossley  is  bad  training  for 
walking  a  grouse  mountain. 

After  going  about  a  mile  and 
a  half  a  party  of  men  were  seen 
in  front  making  eastward  at 
full  speed  down  a  valley,  the 
end  of  which  Dominic  knew 
was  held  by  a  group  of  soldiers 
with  a  machine-gun.  Halting 
his  men,  he  then  brought  his 
right  wing  well  round  so  as  to 
cut  off  the  gunmen's  retreat 
to  the  west  should  they  attempt 
to  break  back. 

The  fleeing  gunmen  were  soon 
lost  sight  of  in  dead  ground, 
but  presently  the  sound  of 
firing  was  heard  from  the  far 
end  of  the  valley,  and  after  a 
time  the  gunmen  were  seen 


220 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Aug. 


retreating  across  the  Cadets' 
front,  and  making  as  hard  as 
they  could  for  the  west  side 
of  the  mountains. 

At  this  point  Blake's  men 
came  in  sight  from  the  south, 
and  quickly  getting  in  touch 
with  the  Cadets'  right  wing, 
completed  the  cordon.  The 
gunmen,  seeing  that  they  were 
surrounded  and  all  retreat  cut 
off,  split  up  into  two  parties, 
took  up  positions  on  two  kopjes, 
and  waited  for  the  attack. 

As  a  frontal  attack  would 
have  entailed  heavy  loss,  and 
seeing  that  there  was  another 
kopje  on  Blake's  side  which 
would  command  and  enfilade 
the  gunmen's  positions,  Do- 
minic ordered  the  Cadets  to 
pin  the  gunmen  down  by  their 
fire,  and  at  the  same  time  sent 
a  signaller  to  Blake  telling  him 
to  occupy  the  commanding 
kopje.  This  Blake  did,  and 
also  sent  to  the  nearest  group 
of  soldiers  for  a  machine-gun. 

The  fight  lasted  for  two 
hours,  and  though  the  gunmen 
were  always  subject  to  a  hot 
fire,  and  several  times  a  man 
was  seen  to  spring  into  the  air 
and  collapse  in  the  heather, 
yet  they  stuck  it  gamely  until 
the  machine-gun  was  brought 
up  and  opened  a  heavy  fire 
on  both  kopjes  ;  the  remaining 
gunmen  then  stood  up  and 
put  up  their  hands. 

On  the  two  kopjes  the  police 
found  twelve  dead  gunmen  and 
twenty-eight  prisoners,  eighteen 
of  whom  were  wounded.  And 
amongst  the  dead  Dominic 
found  Cormac,  shot  through 
the  heart. 


After  arranging  for  the  burial 
of  the  dead  (with  the  exception 
of  Cormac,  who  was  carried 
down  the  mountain-side  on  a 
stretcher)  and  the  removal  of 
the  prisoners,  Dominic  took  a 
party  of  Cadets  to  search  some 
caves  which  he  knew  of  about 
half  a  mile  to  the  south-west. 
Here,  as  he  expected,  he  found 
that  the  gunmen  had  been 
living  in  comparative  comfort. 
One  cave  had  been  used  as  a 
living-room  and  contained  chairs 
and  tables,  while  two  smaller 
inner  ones  were  fitted  up  with 
bunks  in  tiers  like  a  Boche  dug- 
out, and  had  heather  for  bed- 
ding. 

Towards  evening  the  worn- 
out  Cadets  got  back  to  their 
Crossleys  on  the  pass  road 
which  ran  along  the  north 
shore  of  the  lake ;  and  after 
leaving  a  party  with  a  search- 
light mounted  on  a  tender  to 
stop  any  stray  gunmen  escap- 
ing during  the  night  on  bicycles 
by  the  road  to  the  east,  Dom- 
inic started  for  Murrisk  in  a 
Crossley  with  his  brother's  body. 

Many  an  evening  the  two 
brothers  had  driven  home  to- 
gether over  the  same  road  after 
a  happy  day's  grouse-shooting, 
never  dreaming  that  their  last 
journey  together  would  be  to 
bring  Cormac's  body  to  the 
home  of  their  ancestors. 

The  mac  Nessa  met  the  party 
in  the  great  hall  of  Murrisk, 
and  his  ancestors  looking  down 
from  the  walls  must  surely 
have  thought  that  they  were 
back  again  in  their  own  times 
of  everlasting  war  and  sudden 
death. 


1921.] 


221 


OLIVEE   GOLDSMITH. 


BY   J.    A.    STRAHAN. 


THE  great  Queen  Elizabeth  is 
called  in  England  to  this  day 
the  good  Queen  Bess.  And  a 
good  as  well  as  a  great  Queen 
she  was  to  the  English.  When 
they  were  fighting  for  their 
lives,  and,  what  perhaps  they 
valued  more,  their  religion, 
against  Philip  of  Spain  and 
the  Spanish  Inquisition,  she 
was  the  soul  of  the  struggle. 
As  she  told  her  soldiers  as- 
sembled at  Tilbury,  though 
but  a  weak  woman,  she  had 
"  the  stomach  of  a  king,  and 
of  a  King  of  England  too  "  ; 
and  her  superb  courage  did 
more  than  aught  else  to  inspire 
her  subjects  to  singe  the  Span- 
ish King's  beard  in  his  own 
ports,  and  to  destroy  his  In- 
vincible Armada  in  the  open 
sea. 

But  in  her  own  mind  she 
was  Queen  only  of  England, 
and  her  care  and  love  for  men 
began  and  ended  with  the 
English.  For  the  Irishry,  who 
were  the  Spaniard's  friends  and 
the  Englishman's  enemies,  she 
had  no  use  or  pity,  though 
she  was  also  Queen  of  Ireland. 
Her  love  of  her  English  fol- 
lowed them  wherever  they  went. 
To  her,  unlike  her  successors, 
the  Englishman  in  Ireland  was 
as  much  her  care  as  the  Eng- 
lishman in  England.  She  strove 
her  utmost  to  protect,  to  pros- 
per, and  to  instruct  him.  And 
so  for  the  last  purpose,  she 


established  for  his  benefit  the 
College  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
in  Dublin,  which  was  to  be 
the  mother  of  a  University. 
The  College  and  the  Univer- 
sity, however,  are  still  one ; 
and  Trinity  remains  not  merely 
the  silent  but  the  single  sister 
of  Oxford  and  Cambridge. 

During  the  three  or  four 
centuries  [since  its  foundation 
Trinity  has  had  many  eccentric 
and  many  distinguished  stu- 
dents ;  but,  as  a  rule,  its 
eccentric  students  were  not 
distinguished,  and  its  distin- 
guished students  were  not 
eccentric.  Archbishop  Ussher 
and  Bishop  Berkeley,  Congreve, 
Burke,  Grattan,  Curran,  Plun- 
ket,  Tom  Moore,  Charles  Lever, 
Earl  Cairns,  and  Lecky  are 
some  of  its  alumni  of  whom 
most  of  the  world  has  heard  ; 
but  they  were  very  like 
ordinary  students,  except  in 
the  matter  of  brains  and  some- 
times of  application.  Most  of 
the  eccentric  students'  names 
have  long  since  passed  into 
oblivion ;  but  some  are  re- 
membered either  because  their 
peculiarities  were  amazing  or 
their  parts  were.  One  of  these, 
whose  parts  were  great,  but 
whose  peculiarities  were  as- 
tounding, has  found  his  way 
not  merely  into  the  College 
history,  but  into  the  world's 
fiction.  He  figures  in  Charles 
Lever's  '  Charles  O'Malley ' 


222 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


[Aug. 


under  his  own  name,  and  is 
painted  there  exactly  as  he 
was ;  and  surely  a  queerer 
character  has  never  been  in- 
vented by  the  most  imagina- 
tive of  novelists. 

This  is  the  Eev.  Dr  Barrett, 
a  senior  fellow  of  the  College, 
and  the  greatest  Hebrew 
scholar  of  his  age,  and  also 
the  greatest  recluse  and  the 
greatest  miser.  From  the  time 
he  took  up  residence  as  a 
young  student  till  the  day  of 
his  death,  only  twice  was  he 
known  to  have  gone  outside 
the  College  gates.  The  first 
occasion  was  when  he  was  sum- 
moned to  an  assize  court  to 
give  evidence.  In  a  country 
inn  he  saw  in  the  yard  a  bird 
whose  gorgeous  plumage  as- 
tonished him,  and  he  asked  the 
ostler  what  it  was.  The  amazed 
ostler  replied  that  it  was  a 
cock.  Evidently  the  learned 
doctor  on  his  return  to  Trinity 
had  inquired  further  into  the 
matter,  for  after  his  death  a  note 
in  his  handwriting  was  found  in 
the  margin  of  a  book  on  natural 
history,  opposite  a  disquisition 
on  domestic  fowl,  which  ran, 
"  The  ostler  was  right :  it  was 
a  cock."  The  second  occasion 
of  his  passing  the  College  gates 
was  when  his  bed-maker,  while 
going  with  a  bottle  and  a  penny 
of  his  to  buy  milk  for  his  tea, 
fell  and  broke  her  leg.  "  Mary, ' ' 
he  said  to  her  when  he  saw  her 
in  the  hospital,  "  I  suppose  the 
bottle  is  smashed,  but  where  is 
the  penny  ?  " 

Like  all  University  dons  of 
his  day,  Dr  Barrett  was  a  clerk 


in  Holy  Orders  ;  but  his  lan- 
guage, according  to  all  accounts, 
was  often  far  from  holy.  A 
favourite  expression  of  his  was, 
"  May  the  devil  admire  me," 
and  Charles  Lever  has  given 
us  an  example  of  its  applica- 
tion. Once,  it  seems,  a  roguish 
student,  who  lived  on  the  floor 
below  the  reverend  doctor, 
knowing  the  good  man's  love 
of  money,  tied  a  halfpenny  to 
a  thread,  and  laid  it  on  the 
staircase  opposite  his  door. 
When  the  reverend  Barrett 
issued  from  his  rooms  he  saw 
the  halfpenny,  and  bent  to 
pick  it  up.  The  student  pulled 
the  thread,  and  it  dropped 
down  a  step.  The  learned 
doctor  followed,  and  again  tried 
to  pick  it  up.  Again  the 
student  pulled  the  thread,  and 
again  it  dropped  down  a  step. 
This  continued  from  step  to 
step  till  it  reached  the  floor 
below,  when  it  disappeared 
under  the  student's  door.  The 
doctor  went  out  into  the  quad- 
rangle with  an  amazed  face. 
There  the  first  person  he  hap- 
pened to  meet  was  the  Provost. 
"  May  the  devil  admire  me, 
Provost,"  he  cried  out,  "  if  I 

haven't  seen  a  d d  ha'penny 

walk  clane  away  from  me  !  " 

Dr  Magee,  later  to  become  an 
Archbishop  of  Dublin,  and  later 
still  to  become  the  grandfather 
of  an  Archbishop  of  York, 
used  to  tell  of  his  experience 
when,  himself  a  Trinity  don, 
he  had  occasion  to  borrow  five 
guineas  from  Dr  Barrett.  Very 
reluctantly  the  reverend  doctor 
produced  from  a  cupboard  an 


1921.] 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


223 


old  stocking  filled  with  gold. 
As  he  did  so  the  stocking  burst, 
and  the  gold  went  rolling  over 
the  floor.  Dr  Magee  stooped 
to  help  him  pick  it  up.  "  H — 1 
to  your  sowl,  Magee,"  shouted 
Barrett ;  "  lave  them  alone 
and  stand  up  on  that  chair  !  " 
Somewhat  startled,  Magee  com- 
plied ;  and  Dr  Barrett  himself 
picked  up  the  coins,  and  then 
lent  Magee  the  five  he  wanted. 
The  next  day  Magee  called  at 
Barrett's  chambers  to  repay 
the  loan.  "  Well,  Barrett,"  he 
said,  "  I  hope  you  found  all 
your  spilt  guineas  ?  "  "  Ay,  I 
did,"  answered  the  reverend 
gentleman  drily,  "  all  but  one  ; 
and  it  may  have  rowled  down 
that  rat-hole  ;  and,  by  J — s,  it 
may  not." 

The   Eev.    Dr   Barrett   was 
not  the  only  student  of  Trinity 
who  is  still  remembered  both 
for    his    peculiarities    and    his 
parts.    Two  others  are  remem- 
bered,   and    are    likely   to    be 
remembered  for  indefinite  cen- 
turies   to    come,   who,    if    not 
quite  his  equals  in  peculiarities, 
were  in  parts  incomparably  his 
superiors.     In  time  more  than 
half  a  century  separated  them, 
in  character  two  human  beings 
could  not  be  more  different ; 
and  yet  in  their  lives  and  for- 
tunes they  were  not  dissimilar. 
Both   were   of   English   blood, 
both   were   of   the   Protestant 
religion,  both  belonged  to  pro- 
fessional   families,    and    both 
were  very  poor.    One  had  lost 
his  father,  and  was  supported 
at  the  University  by  an  uncle  ; 
the    other   was    supported    at 


the  University  by  an  uncle, 
though  his  father  was  still 
living.  Both  led  there  discon- 
tented, disorderly,  and  dissi- 
pated careers,  got  into  constant 
rows  with  the  authorities,  were 
regarded  by  their  fellow-stu- 
dents as  half-mad,  and  finally 
left  it  with  degrees  which  re- 
flected no  great  honour  on  the 
recipients. 

Their  after-lives  were  not 
without  many  points  of  re- 
semblance. Both  were  for  sev- 
eral years  after  they  left  Trinity 
in  extreme  penury,  and  with- 
out a  profession.  The  one 
spent  those  years  in  studying 
deeply  both  men  and  books, 
the  other  in  indolence,  vaga- 
bondage, and  flute  -  playing. 
Both  in  time  found  their  way 
to  London  and  became  literary 
men.  Both  soon  won  great 
names  in  literature,  and  mixed 
as  equals  with  the  greatest 
men  of  their  day ;  both  were 
regarded  by  the  world  as  not 
altogether  in  their  wits,  the 
one  being  known  as  "  the 
mad  parson,"  the  other  as 
"  the  inspired  idiot."  One 
lived  to  an  extreme  old  age, 
the  other  only  to  middle  man- 
hood ;  and  one  died  "  in  mad- 
ness, both  in  misery."  The 
one  was  Jonathan  Swift,  the 
other  Oliver  Goldsmith. 

Oliver  Goldsmith  was  born 
at  Pallas  in  County  Longford 
in  1728,  the  year  in  which  poor 
Stella  died.  Macaulay,  under 
the  impression  apparently  that 
Pallas  was  the  scene  of  Oliver's 
boyhood  and  of  those  recollec- 
tions which  he  afterwards  so 


224 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


[Aug. 


delightfully  described,  expati- 
ates at  great  length  on  the 
remoteness,  inaccessibility,  and 
rudeness  of  this  primitive  place. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  Oliver 
could  have  no  boyish  remem- 
brance of  it,  since  his  father 
became  Eector  of  Kilkenny 
West  when  Oliver  was  two 
years  old,  and  then  removed 
with  his  family  to  a  comfort- 
able house  in  the  then  prosper- 
ous English  village  of  Lissoy. 
There  Oliver's  boyhood  was 
passed,  and  there  he  received 
the  first  rudiments  of  his  edu- 
cation from  a  Mrs  Delap,  who 
thought  him  "  impenetrably 
dull."  Macaulay  describes  her 
as  a  maid-servant,  but  she 
probably  was  a  poor  lady  of 
French  Huguenot  descent,  who 
earned  her  living  as  a  sort  of 
nursery  governess.  From  her 
tuition  Oliver  went  to  study 
at  the  village  school  under 
Thomas  Byrne,  a  retired  quar- 
termaster. It  is  characteristic 
of  the  way  in  which  Irish  his- 
tory is  treated  by  English  his- 
torians that  Macaulay  should 
insist  that  the  old  soldier  could 
teach  nothing  but  reading,  writ- 
ing, and  arithmetic — what  more 
he  expected  a  boy  of  seven  or 
eight  years  to  be  taught  he 
does  not  explain  ;  while  Thack- 
eray, probably  to  give  his  tale 
a  touch  of  local  colour,  calls 
Thomas  Byrne  "  Paddy " 
Byrne,  and  describes  him  as  a 
"  hedge  schoolmaster."  Oliver 
left  this  primary  school  in  his 
ninth  year,  and  was  sent  to 
the  grammar  school  at  Elphin, 
where  the  master,  Griffin,  had 


intelligence  enough  to  see  that 
the  boy,  in  spite  of  his  indo- 
lence and  eccentricities,  was 
very  clever.  Later  he  went  to 
the  grammar  school  at  Ath- 
lone,  and  later  still  to  that  at 
Edgeworthtown,  the  home  of 
the  family  which  produced  the 
Maria  Edgeworth  who,  half  a 
century  afterwards,  described 
so  vividly  the  Ireland  that 
followed  those  evictions  of  the 
English  settlers  which  Swift  had 
denounced  and  Goldsmith  had 
deplored.  Macaulay  and  Thack- 
eray both  attribute  Oliver's 
fondness  for  Irish  music  and 
Irish  legends  to  the  instruction 
of  Byrne  ;  but  his  love  of  the 
music  at  any  rate  seems  to 
date  from  his  residence  at 
Edgeworthtown,  where  he  is 
known  to  have  been  acquaint- 
ed with  O'Carolan,  the  last  of 
the  Irish  bards,  and  Laurence 
Whyte,  a  local  minstrel.  It 
was  while  on  his  way  home 
from  Edgeworthtown  that  a 
mischievous  schoolfellow  direct- 
ed him  to  the  squire's  house 
as  an  inn  where  he  could  get 
a  good  dinner  and  a  comfort- 
able bed. 

Meanwhile  Oliver's  elder 
brother  Henry  had  graduated 
at  Trinity,  and  had  set  up 
a  "  schule  which  he  caa'd  an 
academy "  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Lissoy.  A  pupil  of 
his  called  Hodson,  the  son  of 
a  considerable  landowner,  saw 
proper  to  marry  secretly  the 
schoolmaster's  sister  Kate.  This 
led  to  a  little  comedy  which 
shows  at  once  the  pride  and 
the  poverty  of  the  country 


1921.] 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


225 


clergy  in  the  Ireland  of  that 
time.  Kate's  father  would  not 
allow  his  daughter  to  go  por- 
tionless to  a  rich  man's  son, 
so  he  settled  upon  her  £400 — 
just  two  years'  income  of  his 
living  of  Kilkenny  West.  That 
left  him  nothing  for  anybody 
else,  so,  if  young  Oliver  was 
to  complete  his  education  at 
Trinity,  he  could  not  go,  like 
his  brother,  as  a  pensioner, 
but  only  as  a  sizar — that  is, 
a  student  who  at  that  day  re- 
ceived his  education  and  part 
of  his  maintenance  free,  in 
return  for  the  performance  of 
certain  menial  duties.  At  first 
Oliver  haughtily  refused  to  go 
to  the  University  on  such 
terms.  His  uncle  by  marriage, 
Thomas  Contarine,  who  was 
to  prove  his  kind  guardian  in 
life,  was  called  in,  and,  by 
promises  the  nature  of  which 
we  can  guess,  persuaded  him 
to  agree  to  go  ;  and  so  in  due 
course  Oliver  Goldsmith  was 
entered  as  a  sizar  in  Trinity 
in  the  June  of  1744. 

Dublin  was  then  a  very 
fashionable  capital  and  Trinity 
a  very  fashionable  University 
for  such  an  unfashionable  coun- 
try as  the  rest  of  Ireland  was  ; 
and  we  can  easily  imagine  the 
consternation  with  which  any 
homely  country  lad  would  find 
himself  all  alone  in  both  for 
the  first  time.  But  Oliver 
was  more  than  homely  and 
country ;  he  was  so  poor  that 
he  could  only  pay  for  the  share 
of  a  garret  at  the  fashionable 
University.  And  he  was  more 
than  poor ;  he  was  awkward, 


and  so  slow  of  speech  as  to 
make  folk  think  he  was  silly. 
And  he  was  more  than  awk- 
ward, he  was  ugly :  plain  by 
nature,  an  attack  of  smallpox 
had  left  him  disfigured  for  life. 
And  he  was  worse  than  ugly  : 
he  was  vain,  and  morbidly 
sensitive  to  others'  opinion  of 
him.  Fancy  that  ill-dressed,  un- 
couth, stupid-looking  lad  with 
his  pock-marked  face,  bridgeless 
nose,  loose  mouth,  and  reced- 
ing chin,  shuffling  timidly  about 
the  courts  and  halls  of  the 
College  amid  the  sneers  of 
those  very  superior  persons,  the 
College  dons,  and  the  laughter 
of  those  dashing  young  bloods, 
the  College  students,  and  you 
have  before  your  mind's  eye  a 
picture  of  human  misery  as 
agonising  as  any  this  unkindly 
world  can  produce. 

About  sixty  years  before 
Swift  had  entered  that  same 
College  under  much  the  same 
circumstances  ;  and  those  cir- 
cumstances had  exasperated  his 
fierce  pride  almost  to  madness. 
He  had  refused  to  learn  what 
was  taught  in  the  place,  re- 
volted against  all  its  authori- 
ties, outraged  all  its  regula- 
tions, and,  till  his  last  day, 
hated  it  as  the  scene  of  his 
earliest  and  bitterest  humilia- 
tions. Oliver's  nature  was  too 
gentle  to  let  him  hate  any- 
thing ;  but  he  too  refused  to 
learn  the  mathematics,  which 
was  the  chief  study,  though,  as 
he  afterwards  said,  he  could 
turn  an  ode  of  Horace  into 
English  with  the  best  of  them 
— which  we  can  quite  believe. 


226 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


[Aug. 


He  hid  himself  from  his 
fellow-students  in  his  garret ; 
he  wrote  ballads  which  he 
sold  to  the  street  minstrels  ; 
he  stole  out  at  night  to 
hear  them  sung ;  he  spent  the 
money  he  received  for  them 
and  the  remittances  he  re- 
ceived from  kind  Uncle  Con- 
tarine  in  relieving  the  wants  of 
sizars  poorer  even  than  him- 
self, and  in  entertaining  queer 
company  in  his  garret,  in 
buying  food  and  drink  for 
miserable  outcasts  to  whom  he 
was  always  attached  till  the 
day  of  his  death,  and  who  re- 
mained attached  to  him  even 
after  that.  Throughout  his  life 
the  more  poor  and  wretched 
and  despised  a  man  or  woman 
was,  the  more  sure  was  he  or 
she  to  receive  the  kindness  and 
sympathy  of  the  soft-hearted, 
soft-headed  Oliver. 

"  From  such  garrets  "  (as 
that  occupied  by  Oliver  in 
Trinity)  "  many  men  of  less 
parts  than  his,"  Macaulay  sage- 
ly observes,  "  have  made  their 
way  to  the  Woolsack  or  to  the 
episcopal  bench."  There  is  not 
a  doubt  of  it ;  and  it  is  equally 
without  doubt  that  from  Mac- 
aulay's  point  of  view  poor 
Oliver's  life  was  a  sad  failure. 
Still  there  is  another  way  of 
looking  at  it.  For  instance,  at 
this  moment  I  cannot  without 
consulting  a  book  of  reference 
recall  with  certainty  the  name 
of  a  single  Chancellor  or  Bishop 
of  Oliver's  time,  nor  remember 
what  in  particular  any  one  of 
them  ever  did.  I  can  recall 
Oliver's  name  and  most  of  the 


details  of  his  wasted  life  ;  and, 
as  for  what  he  did,  who  does 
not  remember  it  ? — '  The  Tra- 
veller '  and  '  The  Deserted 
Village,'  'The  Citizen  of  the 
World,'  'the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field,'  'She  Stoops  to  Con- 
quer,'— are  they  not  in  every 
man's  memory  ?  If  to  do  well 
for  yourself  in  life  is  the  proper 
employment  of  a  man's  brains, 
then  Oliver  misused  his  shock- 
ingly ;  but  if  to  do  well  for 
the  world  is  to  employ  them 
properly,  then  he  used  his  to 
more  advantage  than  did  all 
the  Chancellors  and  Bishops 
of  his  generation.  He  has  be- 
queathed a  legacy  of  good 
works  to  mankind  which  it  will 
treasure  when  all  they  have 
left  behind  will  be  spent,  and 
the  benefactors  themselves  will 
be  forgotten. 

The  only  success  which  Oliver 
made  at  Trinity  proved  nearly 
his  ruin.  Just  three  years  after 
he  entered  he  competed  for  a 
scholarship.  He  failed  to  win 
the  scholarship,  but  was  award- 
ed a  Smyth  prize  worth  no  less 
than  thirty  shillings  a  year. 
He  was  so  elated  by  this 
triumph  that  he  celebrated  it 
by  a  more  than  usually  riot- 
ous party  in  his  rooms  in  the 
College.  His  tutor,  disturbed 
by  the  tumult,  forced  an  en- 
trance, and  finding  the  true 
state  of  affairs,  boxed  Oliver's 
ears  before  the  whole  company. 
The  indignant  Oliver  sold  out 
his  books  the  next  morning, 
and  with  the  meagre  proceeds, 
started  off  to  Cork  to  go  to 
America.  He  did  the  same 


1921.] 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


227 


later  with  a  fuller  pocket ; 
but  in  both  cases  he  returned 
to  Ballymahon  near  Lissoy, 
where  his  mother  and  Uncle 
Contarine  lived,  without  a  brass 
farthing.  His  brother  Henry 
contrived  to  patch  up  a  re- 
conciliation between  him  and 
his  tutor  ;  Oliver  returned  to 
Trinity ;  and  in  two  years 
more  left  it  with  a  degree  and 
without  a  profession. 

His  life  for  the  next  five 
years  has  too  often  been  told, 
more  fully  perhaps  than  it 
deserves.  In  bulk  it  consisted 
of  living  with  his  now  widow 
mother  at  Ballymahon,  visit- 
ing friends  and  relations,  sport- 
ing with  his  brother-in-law, 
Hodson,  doing  a  little  in  the 
way  of  tutoring,  and  spending 
a  good  deal  of  time  about  the 
country  inns.  There  are  indeed 
various  interludes  in  the  story. 
One  is  when  in  a  fit  of  foresight 
he  resolved  to  provide  for  his 
future  by  entering  the  Church, 
and  attended  on  the  Bishop  for 
this  purpose,  and  was  turned 
away  because  he  came  in  scar- 
let breeches.  Two  others  were 
his  start  for  Cork  and  America 
and  his  return  moneyless,  al- 
ready mentioned,  and  his  start 
for  London  and  the  Bar,  and 
his  return  in  the  same  condi- 
tion. Then  came  his  departure 
for  Edinburgh  and  medicine, 
after  which  Oliver  returned  no 
more.  Never  again  was  he  to 
see  that  mother,  that  brother, 
and  that  Uncle  Contarine,  who 
had  all  been  so  kind  to  him, 
or  the  green  flat  fields  about 
Lissoy — that  "  loveliest  village 


of  the  plain."  But  throughout 
the  wanderings,  troubles,  and 
sorrows  of  his  after-life  he 
never  ceased  to  remember  them 
or  to  love  them  : — 

"Remote,      unfriended,      melancholy, 

slow, 
Or  by  the  lazy  Scheld,  or  wandering 

Po; 
Or  onward,  where  the  rude  Carin- 

thian  boor 
Against  the  houseless  stranger  shuts 

the  door ; 
Or  where  Campania's  plain  forsaken 

lies, 
A   weary    waste   expanding   to    the 

skies  ; 
Where'er  I  roam,  whatever  realms  to 

see, 
My  heart  untravell'd  fondly  turns  to 

thee  ; 
Still    to    my    brother    turns,    with 

ceaseless  pain, 

And  drags  at  each  remove  a  lengthen- 
ing chain." 

We  need  spend  little  time 
over  Oliver's  life  at  Edinburgh 
University,  of  which  indeed 
little  is  known.  It  appears  to 
have  differed  materially  from 
his  life  at  Dublin  University 
only  in  one  respect :  he  made 
friends  among  his  fellow- 
students,  who  paid  his  debts 
while  there,  and  helped  him  to 
make  a  start  in  life  when  they 
met  him  afterwards  penniless  in 
London.  Nor  need  we  spend 
much  time  over  Oliver's  travels 
on  the  Continent.  All  we  know 
of  them  is  from  his  own 
tongue  or  pen  ;  and  of  that 
at  least  as  much  are  fictions 
as  facts.  Two  undisputed  facts 
are  that  he  walked  all  the  way, 
and  paid  for  his  board  and 
lodging  chiefly  by  playing  Irish 
airs  on  the  flute.  The  fictions 
are  too  numerous  to  mention. 


228 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


[Aug 


He  left  for  Leyden  at  the 
end  of  1753,  met  there  a  fellow- 
countryman,  Ellis,  from  whom 
he  borrowed  money,  with  which 
he  bought  bulbs  for  Uncle 
Contarine  ;  and  after  visiting 
France,  Switzerland,  and  Italy, 
returned  to  England  in  Feb- 
ruary 1756.  What  he  did  for 
some  time  afterwards  is  doubt- 
ful ;  but  we  know  for  certain 
that  one  of  his  Edinburgh 
friends,  Sleigh,  set  him  up  as 
a  physician  in  Southwark  (he 
alleged  he  had^  obtained  a 
medical  degree  at  Padua) ;  and 
when  he  failed  in  that,  another 
of  his  Edinburgh  friends  in- 
troduced him  to  his  father, 
the  Eev.  Dr  Milner,  who  kept 
a  school  at  Peckham,  where 
Oliver  for  a  time  lived  as 
usher,  and  where  he  met  Grif- 
fiths, the  owner  and  editor — 
with  his  wife's  assistance — of 
the  '  Monthly  Eeview,'  in  which 
he  made  his  first  public  appear- 
ance as  an  author. 

Having  turned  author,  he 
struggled  along,  as  all  the 
authors  without  private  means 
had  then  to  struggle  along, 
until  they  acquired  fame,  and 
sometimes  even  after  ;vthat. 
Thus  he  "  lived  among  the 
beggars,"  as  he  afterwards  said : 
he  dined  in  sixpenny  ordinaries 
when  he  had  a  sixpence  ;  he 
pawned  the  books  sent  for 
him  to  review,  and  sometimes 
his  own  and  sometimes  other 
people's  clothes  ;  and  he  bor- 
rowed small  sums  of  money 
from  every  friend  who  was 
able  and  willing  to  lend,  and 
never  repaid  them.  Some  have 


written  as  if  these  proceedings 
were  peculiarly  characteristic 
of  Oliver's  ways  and  character. 
They  were  not :  they  were 
generic — the  attributes  which 
then  marked  the  race  of  authors. 
Johnson,  the  model  of  stern 
morality,  pursued  them  just 
as  much  as  Goldsmith  or  Sav- 
age. Even  the  worshipping 
Boswell  felt  forced  to  complain 
of  Johnson's  habit  of  borrowing 
money,  and  his  resentment  at 
being  expected  to  repay  it. 
"  I  want  the  loan  of  ten 
shillings,"  he  would  say  to 
him  ;  and,  remembering  he 
was  speaking  to  a  thrifty  Scots- 
man, would  add  significantly, 
"  not  to  be  repaid."  The 
only  thing  specially  character- 
istic of  this  period  of  Oliver's 
life  was  the  brevity  of  its  du- 
ration and  the  magnitude  of 
his  subsequent  pecuniary  suc- 
cess. He  commenced  author  in 
1757,  and  by  the  end  of  1764 
he  was  famous.  After  that  till 
his  death,  he,  by  Macaulay's 
calculation,  earned  by  his  pen 
an  average  income  of  at  least 
four  hundred  pounds  a  year. 
Probably  he  earned  even  more  ; 
but,  assuming  he  did  not,  four 
hundred  a  year  in  his  tune 
was  equivalent  in  money  value 
to  about  fourteen  hundred  a 
year  in  ours.  Johnson,  after 
nearly  twoscore  years  of  stren- 
uous labour,  was  probably  not 
earning  half  as  much.  Indeed, 
in  spite  of  the  renown  he  had 
won,  he  never  emerged  from 
poverty  until  he  obtained  a 
pension. 

Even  before  the  publication 


1921.] 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


229 


of  '  The  Traveller  '  in  1764  had 
made  him  the  first  poet  of 
the  age,  sagacious  critics,  like 
Johnson,  had  declared  him  the 
first  essayist.  After  the  pub- 
lication of  '  The  Traveller,'  he 
advanced  rapidly  from  triumph 
to  triumph.  Two  years  later, 
the  appearance  of  '  The  Vicar 
of  Wakefield  '  made  him  the 
first  of  novelists  ;  and  two  or 
three  years  later  the  production 
of  '  She  Stoops  to  Conquer ' 
made  him  the  first  of  dra- 
matists. He  wrote  in  every 
branch  of  literature ;  and 
"  everything  he  touched  he 
adorned."  There  is* no  more 
amazing  success  in  literary  his- 
tory, save  perhaps  that  of 
Byron ;  and  his  success  was 
limited  to  one  branch.  Un- 
fortunately his  success  was  even 
shorter  than  Byron's.  The  star 
of  Goldsmith's  glory  rose  when 
he  was  of  the  same  age  as 
Byron  was  when  Byron's  star 
set :  but  Byron's  then  had 
been  blazing  for  fourteen  years  ; 
Goldsmith's  only  remained  in 
the  literary  firmament  for  nine. 
He  died  in  the  spring  of  1774. 

In  another  way  than  its 
success  Goldsmith's  and  Byron's 
work  was  very  similar  :  in  each 
case  it  was  based  on  the  writer's 
own  experiences.  Both  Byron 
and  Goldsmith  wrote  only  about 
what  they  themselves  had  seen, 
heard,  felt,  and  thought.  It 
was  their  recollections  of  life 
that  inspired  them — recollec- 
tions glorified  no  doubt  by 
their  imagination,  and  adorned 
by  their  expression,  but  in-  the 
end  only  recollections.  When 


Moore  was  writing  '  Lalla 
Eookh,'  Byron  wrote  to  him 
frankly  expressing  surprise  that 
any  one  should  write  a  Persian 
tale  who  had  never  seen  Persia. 
He  himself  never  attempted 
to  do  such  a  thing  until  his 
decline — and  then  he  failed 
miserably.  Don  Juan's  ad- 
ventures in  Eussia  and  the 
mutiny  of  the  Bounty  in  the 
South  Seas  are  among  the 
dullest  productions  that  ever 
came  from  a  great  poet's  pen. 

Goldsmith,  too,  looked  for 
inspiration  to  his  memory. 
If  he  had  never  wandered 
through  Holland,  France,  Swit- 
zerland, and  Italy,  it  is  likely 
we  should  never  have  had 
*  The  Traveller.'  If  he  had 
not  had  a  country  parson  for 
his  father,  we  should  never, 
probably,  have  had  '  The  Vicar 
of  Wakefield.'  If  he  had  not 
spent  his  youth  in  an  English 
village  in  Ireland,  '  The  De- 
serted Village '  would  never 
have  been  written.  If  his 
mischievous  schoolfellow  had 
not  led  him  to  believe  that 
Squire  West's  mansion-house 
was  a  rustic  inn,  there  would 
probably  have  been'  no  '  She 
Stoops  to  Conquer.' 

But  being  a  poet,  his  imagina- 
tion glorifies  his  recollections. 
There  is  no  reason  to  believe 
that  Lissoy  ever  was  that 
"  dear  bower  of  innocence  and 
ease  "  so  charmingly  drawn  by 
him.  He  was  looking  back 
through  the  mist  of  years,  and 
saw  the  beauty  and  happiness 
of  that  pleasant  English  settle- 
ment in  Ireland  magnified  and 


230 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


[Aug. 


softened.  Neither  need  we 
assume  that  when  he  wrote — 

"  Amidst    those    bowers   the   tyrant's 

hand  was  seen, 

And    desolation    saddened    all    the 
scene," 

he  was  stating  a  specific  fact. 
Indeed,  at  the  time  he  wrote 
he  had  not  seen  Lissoy  for 
eighteen  years,  and  probably 
knew  nothing  about  its  then 
condition.  What  he  was  think- 
ing of  was  another  sight  he 
had  frequently  seen  when  he 
was  in  Ireland — the  eviction 
of  the  English  farmers  to  make 
room  for  Irish  cattle. 

It  is  this  which,  to  any  one 
who  knows  the  social  life  of 
Ireland  during  the  eighteenth 
century,  makes  Macaulay's  crit- 
icism of  '  The  Deserted  Village  ' 
sound  so  absurd.  "  The  vil- 
lage," he  says,  "in  its  happy 
days  is  a  true  English  village. 
The  village  in  its  decay  is  an 
Irish  village.  The  felicity  and 
the  misery,  which  Goldsmith 
has  brought  close  together, 
belong  to  two  different  coun- 
tries and  to  two  different  stages 
in  the  progress  of  society.  He 
had  assuredly  never  seen  in 
his  native  island  a  rural  para- 
dise, such  a  seat  of  plenty, 
content,  and  tranquillity  as  his 
'  Auburn.'  He  had  assuredly 
never  seen  in  England  all  the 
inhabitants  of  such  a  paradise 
turned  out  of  their  homes  in 
a  single  day,  and  forced  to 
emigrate  in  a  body  to  America. 
The  hamlet  he  had  probably 
seen  in  Kent,  the  ejectment 
he  had  probably  seen  in  Mun- 


ster  ;  but  by  joining  the  two 
he  has  produced  something 
which  never  was  and  never 
will  be  seen  in  any  part  of  the 
world." 

If  dogmatic  statement  could 
settle  a  point,  the  point  here 
is  settled.  Still  some  persons, 
not  so  wise  as  Macaulay,  may 
nevertheless  doubt.  He  is  cor- 
rect in  saying  that  Goldsmith 
had  never  seen  in  his  native 
island  a  rural  paradise,  such  a 
seat  of  plenty,  content,  and 
tranquillity,  as  his  "  Auburn." 
He  would  be  still  more  correct 
if  he  had  added  that  Gold- 
smith had  never  seen  such  a 
paradise  anywhere.  But  what 
he  had  seen  in  his  native  island 
were  villages  very  much  like 
hamlets  in  Kent ;  and  these 
villages  he  had  seen  depopu- 
lated of  their  English  inhabit- 
ants by  the  landlords  turning 
the  farms  they  had  tilled  into 
cattle-runs.  All  that  is  wrong 
in  his  statement  is  laying  the 
scene  in  England,  when  he  was 
writing,  and  thinking  of  what 
he  had  witnessed  in  Ireland. 

The  evil  had  begun  before 
Goldsmith  was  born.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century  Leinster  and  Munster 
were  dotted  over  with  English 
settlements  almost  as  thickly 
as  Ulster  was  dotted  over  with 
Scottish  settlements.  Bandon, 
for  example,  has  lately  been 
much  heard  of  in  connection 
with  Nationalist  outrages.  In 
Swift's  day  Bandon  was  as 
purely  English  and  Protestant 
as  any  country  town  in  Kent. 
Who  has  not  read  the  anecdote 


1921.] 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


of  the  Bean  and  his  Catholic 
servant  ?  The  Dean  is  reported 
to  have  written  on  the  town 
gate — 

"Jew,  Turk,  or  Atheist 

may  enter  here, 
But  not  a  Papist." 

To  which  the  servant,  who 
followed  him,  added — 

"  Whoever  wrote  this,  wrote  it  well — 
The  same  is  posted  on  the  gates  of 
Hell." 

These  settlements  were  de- 
stroyed by  farming  being  de- 
stroyed in  order  to  make  room 
for  the  native  pasturage  system ; 
and  the  uprooted  English  set- 
tlers, in  tens  of  thousands,  made 
their  way  across  the  Atlantic, 
where  they  became  England's 
bitterest  enemies.  Against  this 
English  outrage  on  the  English 
interest,  Swift  fiercely  com- 
plained. "  Thus,"  he  said,  "  a 
vast  tract  of  land,  where  twenty 
to  thirty  lived,  together  with 
their  cottagers  and  labourers 
in  their  several  cabins,  became 
all  desolate  and  easily  managed 
by  one  or  two  herdsmen  and 
their  boys."  And  this  is  the 
desolation  of  which  Goldsmith 
is  thinking  when  he  sings — 

"Princes  and  lords   may  flourish,   or 

may  fade — 
A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath 

has  made ; 
But  a  bold  peasantry,  their  country's 

pride, 
When  once  destroyed,  can  never  be 

supplied." 

England  has  sufficient  cause 
to  remember  this  just  at 
present. 

Johnson's  respect  for  Gold- 


smith's ability,  even  before 
'  The  Traveller  '  had  brought 
him  fame,  induced  the  veteran 
scholar,  as  he  loved  to  call 
himself,  to  include  the  younger 
man  in  the  original  nine  who 
first  formed  the  Club.  Boswell, 
even  more  than  its  members, 
has  made  that  Club  immortal. 
Johnson  was  its  monarch,  and 
Boswell  was  more  monarchal 
than  the  monarch  himself.  Any 
one  who  dared  to  question 
Johnson's  right  to  rule  a,s  he 
liked  was  attacked  by  Boswell 
as  a  traitor ;  and  Goldsmith 
was  one  of  the  few  who  occa- 
sionally dared  to  do  so.  Ac- 
cordingly, Boswell  missed  no 
chance  of  sneering  at  his  con- 
fusion of  tongue  and  at  the 
mode  in  which  he  exposed  him- 
self to  the  monarch's  retort  or 
insults.  Those  retorts  and  in- 
sults are  not  frequent.  Only 
one  of  a  gross  character  do  I 
recall  at  this  moment.  When 
Oliver  remonstrated  on  John- 
son's interrupting  another 
speaker  after  he  himself  had 
been  talking  continuously  for 
a  solid  hour,  the  great  man 
replied  that  he  had  only  in- 
terrupted to  draw  attention  to 
what  the  new  speaker  was 
saying,  and,  addressing  Gold- 
smith, said  :  "  Sir,  you  are 
impertinent."  It  is  notable 
that  for  this  rudeness,  John- 
son, on  their  next  meeting, 
apologised.  He  often  said  ruder 
things  to  Boswell ;  but  I  cannot 
now  remember  that  he  ever 
apologised  for  them. 

The    general    consensus    of 
authority,    however,    goes    to 


232 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


[Aug. 


show  that  Oliver  did  not  dis- 
tinguish himself  in  conversa- 
tion. Eeynolds,  who  seems  to 
have  understood  him  best,  held 
that  he  purposely  talked  be- 
neath his  powers  in  order  to 
put  people  impressed  by  his 
writings  at  their  ease.  Per- 
haps it  would  be  better  to 
reverse  this.  People  impressed 
by  his  writings  expected  him 
to  talk  up  to  his  powers  as  a 
writer  ;  and,  when  he  did  not, 
thought  he  talked  worse  than 
he  did.  Even  as  Boswell  has 
to  admit,  sometimes  in  his 
conflicts  with  Johnson,  Johnson 
came  off  second  best.  There 
are  few  neater  or  truer  retorts 
than  that  made  by  him  when 
Johnson  laughed  at  his  state- 
ment that,  in  telling  a  fable, 
little  fishes  should  be  made  to 
talk  like  little  fishes:  "  You 
would  make  them  talk  like 
whales  !  " 

One  thing,  however,  I  must 
protest  against,  and  that  is  the 
way  in  which  all  writers,  except 
William  Black,  have  taken  as 
serious  what  Oliver  intended  as 
jokes.  It  is  a  habit  of  all 
Irishmen,  and  men  bred  in 
Ireland  follow  their  example, 
to  make  statements  so  absurd 
as  to  be  to  them  amusing. 
The  matter-of-fact  Englishman 
often  thinks  they  are  intended 
seriously,  and  is  accordingly 
shocked  at  their  wickedness  or 
disgusted  at  their  folly.  The 
most  delightful  instance  of  this 
that  I  ever  came  across  is  the 
anger  of  Thackeray  over  Swift's 
advice  to  Gay.  Gay,  after  a 
wild  burst  of  dissipation  and 


folly  in  which  he  had  spent  his 
last  farthing,  comes,  with 
muddy  coatj  and  a  pair  of 
black  eyes,  shirtless  and  penni- 
less, to  beg  of  the  Dean  a  small 
loan  to  provide  for  the  present, 
and  advice  as  to  how  he  might 
best  provide  for  the  future. 
The  Dean  advances  the  loan  ; 
and,  eyeing  the  sodden  repro- 
bate, gravely  advises  him  that 
in  his  view  his  best  course  would 
be  to  enter  the  Church  !  And 
thereupon  Thackeray  rages  furi- 
ously, and  doubts  whether  the 
clergyman  who  could  give  such 
advice  could  have  been  a  Chris- 
tian. 

The  same  is  the  case  with 
Oliver.  He  is,  and  knows  he 
is,  a  very  plain  person  indeed  ; 
and  he  admires  the  beauty  of 
the  two  Misses  Horneck  with 
all  his  heart.  Accordingly,  when 
he  is  travelling  in  France  with 
them,  he  affects  to  be  extremely 
disgusted  that  he  is  not  so 
much  admired  as  they  are. 
And  therefore  his  biographers 
lament  over  his  childish  vanity. 
He  sees  puppets  performing  on 
the  stage ;  and,  when  their 
dancing  and  tricks  are  played, 
he  indignantly  declares  he  could 
do  as  well  as  they  himself : 
and,  going  home  with  Burke, 
he  breaks  his  shin  in  pretend- 
ing he  is  trying  to  outdo  the 
puppets.  And  thereupon  his 
biographers  bewail  his  silly 
jealousy.  Somebody  remarks 
that  men  move  their  under- 
jaws  when  eating ;  and  he 
argues  even  angrily  to  the 
contrary,  "in  defiance,"  as  Mac- 
aulay  justly  points  out,  "  of 


1921.] 


Oliver  Goldsmith. 


233 


the  evidence  of  his  own  senses." 
And  thereupon  his  biographers 
express  their  amazement  at 
his  want  of  observation.  All 
the  time  poor  Oliver  was  only 
trying  to  be  funny. 

I  have  spoken  of  his  great 
pecuniary  success.  Most  of 
the  money  he  received  was 
not  derived  from  the  works 
by  which  he  is  now  remem- 
bered. The  profusion  of  his 
habits  and  the  generosity  of 
his  nature  kept  him  in  constant 
need  of  fresh  supplies  ;  and, 
to  obtain  these,  he  did  any 
hack  work  for  which  he  was 
well  paid.  Most  of  this  was 
mere  compilation  ;  but  it  was 
wonderful  compilation  in  its 
way,  so  wonderful  as  to  induce 
Johnson  to  declare  he  was  not 
merely  the  best  essayist,  poet, 
novelist,  and  dramatist,  but 
also  the  best  historian  of  his 
age — the  age  of  Eobertson  and 
Hume.  Even  this  proved  in- 
sufficient to  supply  his  wants  ; 
and,  in  the  words  of  Johnson, 


he  "  raised  money  and  squan- 
dered it  by  every  artifice  of 
acquisition  and  folly  of  ex- 
pense." When  the  end  came 
it  was  found  that  he  was 
two  thousand  pounds  in  debt. 
"  Was  ever  poet  so  trusted 
before  ?  "  Johnson  exclaims. 
And  he  adds  :  "  But  let  not 
his  failings  be  remembered ; 
he  was  a  very  great  man." 

"  He  deserved  to  be  buried 
in  Westminster  Abbey,"  John- 
son also  declared.  He  was 
buried  in  the  Temple,  where 
he  had  long  lived  and  where 
he  died,  and  where,  perhaps, 
he  would  have  wished  rather 
to  lie  than  anywhere  else, 
save  by  his  father  near  "the 
loveliest  village  of  the  plain." 
And  the  Benchers  of  the  Tem- 
ple have  called  a  block  of 
chambers  by  his  name,  which 
they  have  done  for  few  Chan- 
cellors ;  and  his  old  University 
has  erected  a  statue  of  him 
before  its  gate,  which  it  has 
done  for  no  Bishops. 


234 


[Aug. 


ME   OPENSHAW  PEESENTS 


BY   DOUGLAS   G.   BROWNE. 


I. 


IN  common  justice  to  my 
friend,  the  late  Harold  Open- 
shaw, I  propose  to  give  the 
true  story  of  the  tragic  occur- 
rence at  the  Colossus  Theatre 
two  years  ago  during  his  pro- 
duction there  of  '  Sergeant 
Smith.'  Eecent  obituary  no- 
tices of  Openshaw  have  natu- 
rally referred  to  the  incident, 
and  in  one  or  two  cases  (re- 
gardless of  the  fact  that  it 
ill  becomes  a  modern  news- 
paper to  complain  about  "  want 
of  taste "  and  "  methods  of 
sensationalism ")  have  con- 
trived to  hint  that  he  was 
responsible  in  some  culpable 
manner.  I  therefore  take  this 
opportunity,  while  his  name 
is  still  in  the  public  mind,  of 
clearing  it  of  the  vague  stigma 
which  such  insinuations  in- 
evitably affix.  Nobody  was 
more  distressed  about  the 
lamentable  affair  than  Open- 
shaw himself  ;  and,  indeed,  I 
think  the  worry  and  exagger- 
ated self-reproach  it  caused 
him  affected  his  indifferent 
health  and  so  hastened  his 
death. 

Although  in  fact  a  York- 
shireman,  Harold  Openshaw 
was  essentially  one  of  those 
modern  products  which  civili- 
sation seems  to  have  derived 
from  the  United  States.  He 


was  a  dyspeptic  bundle  of 
nerves,  energy,  and  ideas.  In- 
heriting, while  still  young,  a 
large  fortune  from  his  father, 
he  proceeded  in  the  course  of 
a  few  years  to  multiply  it  ten- 
fold by  means  of  an  astonishing 
variety  of  enterprises.  He  dealt 
in  real  estate,  he  built  houses, 
he  bought  nitrate  mines  in 
Chili  and  jute  factories  in 
Calcutta,  he  financed  theatres 
and  boxing  contests  and  opera 
prima  donnas.  Nothing  was 
too  small  or  too  big  for  him. 
For  money  itself  he  cared 
little ;  but  he  loved  adven- 
tures, and  the  manipulating 
of  complicated  and  even  an- 
tagonistic interests.  His  un- 
canny instinct  for  a  good  thing 
amounted  to  genius.  I  cannot 
recall  any  serious  reverse,  or 
at  least  miscalculation,  in  his 
career  ;  for  the  affair  at  the 
Colossus  was  due  to  a  com- 
bination of  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances that  no  one  could 
have  foreseen.  And  this  record 
was  the  more  remarkable  be- 
cause he  was  an  honest  man, 
and  even  something  of  an 
idealist,  while  his  generosity 
was  proverbial. 

This  is  not  the  place  in 
which  to  advert  upon  Open- 
shaw's  very  substantial  services 
during  the  war.  He  overworked 


1921.] 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


235 


himself,  like  many  others,  and 
had  one  serious  breakdown  in 
1917  ;  but  the  peace  found 
him  as  mentally  alert  and  as 
full  of  new  designs  as  ever. 
He  signalised  the  reversion  to 
what  every  one  (regardless  of 
historical  precedent)  hoped 
would  be  normal  conditions 
by  an  experiment  of  peculiar 
temerity.  He  purchased  the 
Colossus  Theatre,  with  a  view 
to  management. 

Every  one  knows  the  history 
of  the  Colossus.  Built  for 
the  production  of  opera,  its 
record  was  one  of  unalleviated 
financial  loss.  It  descended 
by  the  usual  stages  from  opera 
to  melodrama,  from  melo- 
drama to  second-rate  musi- 
cal comedy,  from  that  again 
to  nondescript  variety  enter- 
tainments, and  sank  eventually 
to  the  last  degradation  of  anti- 
vivisection  meetings  and  the 
cinematograph.  Its  immense 
and  ornate  bulk  cost  (like  the 
Forth  Bridge)  an  annual  for- 
tune for  maintenance  alone. 
Its  expanse  of  stage  ran  into 
acres,  from  which  the  audi- 
torium ascended  skyward  in 
Alpine  terraces ;  and  it  is 
said  that  it  was  never  filled. 
It  was  too  vast  even  for 
a  new  Government  Depart- 
ment. 

In  the  winter  of  1918  Open- 
shaw secured  this  architectural 
monstrosity  for  what  was,  I 
believe,  a  relatively  insignifi- 
cant sum.  His  own  plans 
were  already  laid ;  his  first 
play  was  half-written  (largely 
by  himself,  with  a  little  tech- 


nical assistance)  ;  and  at  once 
the  newspapers  and  hoardings 
of  London  began  to  proclaim, 
in  mysterious  and  provocative 
terms,  the  stupendous  attrac- 
tions of  the  forthcoming  pro- 
duction— '  Sergeant  Smith.'  It 
was  described  (with  little  origi- 
nality) as  the  most  remarkable 
spectacle  ever  staged  in  Eng- 
land, and  as  the  first  true 
theatrical  representation  of  the 
war.  And  at  the  same  time 
other  advertisements  appeared 
everywhere  in  arresting  type, 
addressed  to  demobilised  sol- 
diers, and  inviting  all  such 
who  possessed  any  knowledge 
of  acting,  and  had  served  on 
any  front,  to  attend  at  the 
Colossus  between  certain  hours. 
"  No  civilians,"  the  notice  con- 
cluded, "  nor  any  home-service 
soldiers,  however  otherwise 
qualified,  need  apply.  The 
Management,  in  the  interests 
of  the  play,  and  apart  from 
its  desire  to  help  all  who  have 
fought  for  us,  requires  the  Eeal 
Thing." 

Meeting  Openshaw  about  this 
time,  I  chaffed  him  over  these 
advertisements.  I  added  that, 
in  my  opinion,  the  public  was 
tired  of  books  and  plays  about 
the  war. 

"  Don't  you  believe  it !  " 
said  he.  "  The  dear  old  public 
will  like  whatever  it  is  told 
to  like,  if  it  is  told  often  enough. 
It  will  swallow  war  plays  as  it 
swallows  Beecham's  Pills — for 
ever,  if  necessary.  It  is  purely 
a  question  of  advertisement. 
If  you  lay  out  enough  money 
in  advance  you  can  sell  any 


236 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


[Aug. 


rubbish.     And  this  isn't  rub- 
bish. .  .  ." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  you  must 
be  laying  out  a  devil  of  a  lot 
already." 

Openshaw  nodded. 

"  And  I  haven't  begun  yet," 
he  said.  "  Incidentally,  you 
know,  I  picked  up  a  good  bit 
more  out  of  the  war.  Couldn't 
help  it.  That  jute  business 
was  paying  130  per  cent,  and 
then  there  were  those  nitrates. 
.  .  .  So  I'm  prepared  to  splash 
round  now.  I'll  get  it  back, 
too.  If  I  can^  fill  the  Colossus 
for  a  couple  of  months  ..." 

"  That'll  be  a  record,  any- 
how," said  I. 

"  Oh,  I'll  do  it,"  he  answered. 
"  I'll  send  upholstered  lorries 
to  fetch  'em  if  they  don't  come 
quick  enough.  But  they  '11  come 
all  right.  We're  a  sentimental 
people,  and  this  ex-soldier  busi- 
ness, properly  worked,  is  a 
draw  in  itself." 

"  How  is  it  working  ?  "  I 
asked. 

Openshaw  laughed. 

"  There's  a  queue  half  a  mile 
long  every  morning  now,"  he 
said,  "  and  we  give  ten  bob 
to  every  genuine  case  we  turn 
away.  Of  course  there  are  a 
lot  of  frauds.  .  .  .  But  they 
all  tell  their  friends,  and  get 
the  thing  talked  about.  It's 
a  cheap  advertisement,  really. 
Not  that  I  mean  it  for  that 
only,"  he  added  with  obvious 
sincerity.  "  I  want  to  help 
the  fellows.  I  wish  I  could 
use  more  of  'em.  I  only  need 
two  or  three  hundred." 


"Good  Lord!  "said  I.  !'You 
talk  as  if  the  place  was  the  size 
of  Olympia." 

"  Oh,  I  believe  in  doing  things 
thoroughly.  If  you  want  a 
crowd  on  the  stage,  have  a 
crowd  !  And  the  Colossus  is 
built  for  that  sort  of  thing. 
A  dozen  people  are  simply  lost 
on  the  stage.  I've  worked  a 
crowd  into  nearly  every  scene." 

"  Any  more  special  novel- 
ties ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Lots,"  said  Openshaw. 
"  But  I'm  not  going  to  give 
'em  away  now.  But  I'll  tell 
you  one  of  'em.  I've  bought 
a  dug-out !  " 

"  What  sort  of  a  dug-out  !  " 

"  A  real,  live  Hun  dug-out, 
complete  with  fittings.  Comes 
from  somewhere  on  the  Somme. 
It's  being  shipped  this  week." 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow  !  "  I 
said,  "  you  can't  build  up  the 
timbers  of  a  dug-out  on  any 
stage.  They  weigh  tons,  for 
one  thing." 

"  Can't  I  f  "  said  Openshaw, 
chuckling.  "  Wait  and  see. 
Of  course,  I  shan't  be  able  to 
use  the  whole  bag  of  tricks, 
and  I  suppose  the  timbers  I 
do  use '11  have  to  be  thinned 
down  or  something.  I  haven't 
thought  it  all  out  yet.  But 
you  can  bet  your  life  some  sort 
of  dug-out's  going  to  be  there 
— for  two  scenes.  The  real 
Simon  Pure — never  seen  before 
on  any  stage  !  " 

"  And  never  likely  to  be 
seen  again,"  said  I. 

Openshaw  only  smiled  in  his 
confident  way. 


1921.1 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


237 


n. 


'  Sergeant  Smith  '  was  billed 
to  appear  on  the  evening  of 
the  21st  March  1919— the  first 
anniversary  of  the  great  Ger- 
man offensive  of  the  year  be- 
fore. This  was  one  of  Open- 
shaw's  characteristic  little 
touches,  calculated  to  make  a 
newspaper  paragraph.  Enor- 
mous efforts  were  required  to 
get  everything  ready  by  that 
auspicious  date ;  and  success 
was  only  achieved  because  all 
possible  preparations  had  been 
made  long  before  he  was  cer- 
tain even  of  obtaining  the 
theatre.  As  the  day  approached 


the  elaborate  campaign  of  ad- 
vertisement, at  which  he  was 
so  adept,  swelled  to  its  climax. 
On  every  wall  one  saw  the 
flaring  question,  "  Who  is  Ser- 
geant Smith  ?  "  Every  week 
— often  every  day — the  news- 
papers had  some  new  fact  or 
rumour  to  communicate  about 
the  production.  And  shortly 
before  the  opening  night  a 
fresh  spate  of  posters,  rein- 
forced by  sandwich-men — all 
ex-soldiers, — carried  into  every 
street  in  the  metropolis  the 
following  inspiring  allocu- 
tion : — 


FEOM  WAE   TO  PEACE! 

March  21,  1918  :— 
THE  GREAT  GERMAN  OFFENSIVE. 

March  21,  1919  :— 
'SERGEANT  SMITH'  AT  THE  COLOSSUS. 

WHO   BEAT   THE   GERMANS? 
SERGEANT   SMITH  AND   HIS  COMRADES. 

The  Greatest  War  Drama  on  the  Greatest  Stage 

in  London. 
A  Caste  of  350  persons.       Every  man  an  Ex-Soldier. 

THE  REAL  THING! 
Real  Uniforms.        Real  Weapons.        Real  Acting. 

The  Dug-Out  in  Acts  IV.  and  V.  has  been  transported 
entire  from  the  German  lines  on  the  Somme. 

Help  those  who  fought  for  You, 
by  seeing 

'SERGEANT  SMITH!' 


This  may  not  have  been  in  tising.  Good  taste  and  good 
the  best  of  taste  ;  but  it  un-  advertising,  after  all,  are  sel- 
doubtedly  was  effective  adver-  dom  compatible.  And  this 


238 


Mr  Openshaw  presents 


[Aug. 


method  brought  its  swift  re- 
ward. For  by  20th  March 
every  reserved  seat  in  the 
Colossus,  for  the  first  time  in 
its  history,  had  been  taken 
up,  not  only  for  the  opening 
night,  but  for  several  nights 
ahead.  "  It's  the  dug  -  out 
that's  done  it,"  Openshaw  said. 
How  thoroughly  it  was  to  do 
it,  neither  he  nor  any  one  else 
could  have  foreseen. 

The  play  itself,  as  those  who 
saw  it  will  agree,  calls  for  no 
comment.  It  was  written,  as 
I  have  said,  largely  by  Open- 
shaw, in  collaboration  with 
Harry  Howard,  who  has  helped 
to  compose  as  many  melo- 
dramas as  there  are  days  in 
the  year.  It  was  strictly  true 
to  type.  The  hero,  who,  of 
course,  is  named  the  Honour- 
able Derek  Gascoyne,  is  un- 
justly accused  of  some  mal- 
practice by  the  villain,  Count 
Von  Schoon,  the  inevitable 
German  spy.  This  is  at  a 
house-party  in  August  1914. 
The  Honourable  Derek,  with 
the  imbecility  of  his  type,  is 
unable  or  unwilling  to  clear 
himself.  After  a  distressing 
scene  with  his  father,  the  bluff 
old  General,  and  his  fiancee, 
Lady  Sylvia,  he  vanishes  (with- 
out even  a  hat)  into  the  night, 
just  before  the  butler,  of  all 
people,  rushes  in  with  the  news 
of  the  German  invasion  of 
Belgium.  We  then  have  the 
Honourable  Derek,  as  big  a 
fool  as  ever,  having  resigned 
his  commission  in  the  Guards, 
enlisting  as  Thomas  Smith  in 
a  service  battalion  of  the  Mud- 
shires  or  Oaf  shires,  or  some 


such  well-known  regiment,  and 
proceeding,  with  extraordinary 
rapidity,  to  the  front.  Act  III. 
shows  us  the  pseudo-Smith, 
now  a  sergeant,  somewhere  in 
the  line,  mooning  over  a  photo- 
graph of  Lady  Sylvia  when  he 
should  be  completing  his  pre- 
parations for  taking  part  in  a 
raid.  This  leads  us  to  the 
climax  of  the  play,  Acts  IV. 
and  V.,  which  take  place  in 
the  German  dug-out.  Smith, 
having  been  wounded  and  cap- 
tured, is  tortured  by  order  of 
Von  Schoon,  who  makes  an 
unexplained  reappearance,  and 
who  desires  information  which 
the  prisoner,  as  an  N.C.O.,  is 
not  in  the  least  likely  to  possess. 
However,  there  is  also  some 
matter  about  Lady  Sylvia,  who, 
not  content  with  rejecting  the 
spy's  advances,  has  unmasked 
him  with  belated  shrewdness 
in  Act  I.,  after  her  lover  has 
already  disappeared,  hatless  and 
in  evening  dress,  through  the 
drawing-room  window.  The 
torture  scene  concludes  with 
a  British  attack,  in  the  course 
of  which  Smith,  sadly  battered, 
is  rescued  and  Von  Schoon 
killed.  Everything  ends  hap- 
pily in  a  base  hospital,  where 
the  General  and  Lady  Sylvia 
unearth  the  egregious  hero  and 
inform  him  that,  for  some 
obscure  reason,  he  has  won  the 
V.C. 

Such  was  the  play.  If,  how- 
ever, it  did  not  rise  in  any  way 
above  the  usual  level  of  melo- 
drama, its  setting  was  some- 
thing quite  new.  Openshaw 
and  his  stage  manager,  Bulke- 
ley  Cox,  had  between  them 


1921.] 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


239 


sifted  their  ex-service  applicants 
to  such  effect  that  the  last  five 
acts,  in  which  soldiers,  either 
British  or  German,  crowded 
the  Colossus  stage,  were  really 
life-like  to  a  degree.  These 
supers  had  all  some  knowledge 
of  the  theatre,  and  having 
been  made  to  understand  that 
they  must  forget  a  good  deal 
of  it  and  behave  in  a  natural 
manner,  they  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  the  thing,  and  repro- 
duced, with  the  necessary  limi- 
tations, the  life  they  had  just 
abandoned.  The  training  camp 
in  England,  the  billet  in  the 
French  barn,  and  the  base 
hospital,  were  quite  admirable 
pictures  of  three  familiar  phases 
of  the  war.  The  two  scenes 
in  the  German  dug-out,  the 
pi&ce  de  resistance  of  the  play, 
were  even  better.  For  these 
Openshaw  had  the  help  of 
several  military  advisers  who 
knew  all  about  the  German 
Army. 

Half  a  dozen  of  the  actors 
spoke  German  fluently,  and 
any  others  who  had  to  speak 
were  taught  the  necessary 
phrases.  The  little  details  of 
dress  and  routine  and  language 
were,  for  the  first  time,  I  should 
imagine,  in  the  history  of  melo- 
drama, carefully  studied  and 
accurately  represented.  After 
the  usual  tawdry  rubbish  which 
is  served  up  on  the  stage  to 
the  British  public  as  a  picture 
of  life  in  any  foreign  army  (or, 
indeed,  in  our  own),  this  air 
of  verisimilitude  was  most  re- 
freshing ;  and  it  drew  to  the 
Colossus,  as  it  deserved  and 
as  Openshaw  intended,  thou- 


sands of  people  who  never 
would  have  troubled  about  the 
play  itself. 

The  scenery  was  as  elaborate 
and  realistic  as  the  rest  of  the 
actual  presentation.  I  am  con- 
cerned here  only  with  the 
famous  dug-out  scene.  In  this, 
of  course,  probabilities  had  to 
be  compromised  to  some  ex- 
tent, if  only  because  of  the 
vast  area  of  the  stage ;  but 
for  all  that  it  was  very  clever 
and  convincing.  It  showed 
the  Orderly  Room,  or  Head- 
quarters office,  of  a  German 
regiment  in  the  front  line. 
There  was  a  typewriter,  several 
telephones,  maps  on  the  wall, 
papers  on  the  table,  a  rifle- 
rack,  a  portrait  of  the  Emperor, 
and  all  the  other  paraphernalia 
to  be  found  in  such  a  place. 
In  one  corner  were  several 
wire-netting  bunks  for  the  clerks 
and  orderlies.  Passages  led 
out  to  right  and  left — I  never 
can  remember  the  correct  stage 
jargon — and  at  the  back,  in 
addition  to  the  usual  steep 
stairway  ascending  to  the  open 
air,  the  bottom  of  a  second 
and  vertical  shaft  contained  a 
machine-gun  slung  in  a  tackle, 
safe  from  any  bombardment, 
but  ready  to  be  hoisted  to  the 
surface  in  a  few  seconds.  As 
a  scene,  it  was  well  thought  out 
and  highly  realistic ;  but  its 
designing  and  nightly  erection 
must  have  been  a  tremendous 
business.  For  Openshaw,  true 
to  his  word,  had  introduced 
among  the  ordinary  stage 
camouflage  much  of  the  original 
timber  he  had  imported  from 
France.  Sitting  in  the  stalls, 


240 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


[Ang. 


one  could  see  clearly  inscrip- 
tions in  German — initials,  pa- 
triotic sentiments,  and  the  like 
— cut  rudely  on  some  of  the 
baulks  ;  and  across  three  of 
them  "  Gott  Strafe  England  !  " 
was  painted  in  faded  white. 
Although  this  woodwork  was 
fined  down  as  much  as  possible, 
the  stage  had  been  especially 
strengthened  to  bear  its  weight. 
I  suppose  Openshaw  was  right, 
as  usual,  in  his  estimate  of  its 
value  as  an  advertisement : 
people  talked  enough  about  it, 
even  when  they  pretended  to 
sneer.  The  scene  took  twenty 
minutes  to  set,  an  interval  for 
which  the  indulgence  of  "  pa- 
trons "  was  solicited  in  view  of 
its  exceptional  character. 

In  the  original  caste,  as  may 
be  remembered,  Peyton  Edg- 
cumbe  "  created  "  the  Hon- 
ourable Derek,  in  so  far  as 
that  part  was  susceptible  of 
creation,  or  Edgcumbe  himself 
of  creating  anything.  Edg- 
cumbe, of  course,  cannot  act ; 
but  he  looks  handsome  behind 
footlights,  and  has  a  good, 
resonant  voice  for  the  neces- 
sary manly  platitudes.  Doris 
Fellowes  made  a  decorative  if 
somewhat  insipid  Lady  Sylvia. 
Von  Schoon  was  played  by 
Thistleton,  who  is  really  effec- 
tive, in  a  conventional  way,  as 
a  villain.  The  other  leading 
characters  were  all  in  com- 
petent hands — even  the  comic 
relief  ;  while  the  rank  and  file, 
as  they  may  truly  be  called, 
I  have  already  said,  were  admir- 
able. One  minor  difficulty 
which  troubled  Openshaw,  how- 
ever, was  the  question  of  an 


understudy  for  Edgcumbe.  The 
latter  was  particularly  unre- 
liable at  this  time,  for  he  was 
involved  in  a  tremendous  affair 
with  a  lady  (who  shall  be  name- 
less) then  acting  in  Edinburgh  ; 
and  he  was  quite  capable  of 
dashing  away  to  Scotland  for 
a  day  or  two  without  any 
warning.  His  position  enabled 
him  to  do  that  sort  of  thing 
in  moderation,  for  if  he  broke 
a  contract  one  night,  a  dozen 
would  be  thrust  at  him  next 
morning.  So  far  more  precious, 
in  some  circumstances,  are  looks 
than  brains.  There  were  sev- 
eral members  of  the  caste  at 
the  Colossus  who  had  forgotten 
more  about  acting  than  Edg- 
cumbe ever  knew ;  but  un- 
fortunately not  one  of  them 
had  that  appearance  which  a 
British  audience  demands  in 
heroes  of  melodrama.  The  play 
had  been  running  nearly  three 
weeks,  with  the  vast  house 
packed  to  suffocation  every 
night,  before  this  question  of 
the  understudy  was  satisfac- 
torily solved.  Openshaw  was 
frankly  worried,  for  Edgcumbe, 
as  a  result  of  imperious  tele- 
grams from  Edinburgh,  was 
becoming  ominously  snappish 
and  distrait.  There  was  a  feel- 
ing that  he  might  bolt  at  any 
moment.  Yet  it  was  an  evil 
hour  for  all  concerned  when  the 
tension  was  relieved  by  poor 
Nigel  Corkran  joining  the  caste 
of  '  Sergeant  Smith.' 

Corkran  was  already  one  of 
the  war's  derelicts.  In  1914 
he  was  playing  small  parts  in 
a  touring  company.  Joining 
the  army,  he  obtained  a  com- 


1021.] 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


241 


mission  after  a  few  months, 
and  having  passed  through  the 
usual  vicissitudes  of  an  infantry 
subaltern,  attained  the  com- 
paratively safe  haven  of  Junior 
Intelligence  Officer  on  a  divi- 
sional staff.  As  he  was  really 
clever,  and  was  not  only  a 
temporary  soldier  but  also  an 
obscure  actor,  there  would  seem 
to  have  been  more  luck  than 
judgment  about  this  appoint- 
ment. It  is  true  that  he  spoke 
Italian  fluently,  which  may 
account  for  his  rise  on  the 
French  front.  In  any  case,  it 
proved  to  be  a  tragic  affair  for 
him  in  the  end.  In  the  last 
week  of  June  1916  his  division 
was  in  front  of  Beaumont 
Hamel,  busy  with  final  pre- 
parations for  the  attack  due 
to  begin  on  the  1st  July. 
Early  one  morning,  shortly  be- 
fore dawn,  Corkran  went  out 
to  a  sap-head  where  he  was 
to  lie  during  the  day  observing 
the  ground  in  front.  There 
was  some  question  of  new 
German  wire,  among  other 
things,  that  had  to  be  cleared 
UP  by  personal  reconnaissance. 
Unfortunately  his  arrival  at 
his  post  coincided  with  a  Ger- 
man raid  ;  and  after  that  there 
was  a  hiatus  in  Corkran's  life. 
He  knew  nothing  of  what  hap- 
pened to  him  from  the  moment 
when  he  reached  the  sap-head 
until  his  brain  awoke  once 
more,  as  it  were,  in  a  prisoner's 
hospital  at  Dusseldorf.  Five 
weeks  had  elapsed  for  which 
his  memory  could  not  account. 
It  was  only  clear  to  him  that 
at  some  period  in  this  interval 
he  had  been  brutally  ill-used. 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXX. 


One  leg  and  several  ribs  were 
broken,  his  hands  and  feet 
were  scarred  as  if  by  fire,  his 
hair  was  grey,  and  not  only 
his  memory,  but  his  nerve  also 
was  gone.  He  was  a  trembling 
wreck,  shaking  with  terror  at 
a  sound  ;  but  of  what  he  was 
afraid  he  did  not  know.  At 
Dusseldorf,  at  least,  he  seems 
to  have  been  treated  with  some 
consideration.  He  was  so  obvi- 
ously incapable  of  further  active 
service,  that  on  his  recovery 
from  his  physical  injuries  he 
was  included  in  one  of  the  first 
parties  of  captured  officers  sent 
into  Switzerland  for  internment 
during  the  remainder  of  the 
war. 

When  Openshaw,  or  rather 
Bulkeley  Cox,  discovered  him 
two  years  later,  Corkran  was 
still  suffering  from  the  effects 
of  his  unknown  ordeal.  He 
was  moderately  strong  and  well 
in  body,  but  mentally  oppressed 
by  the  shadow  of  his  old  terrors 
and  by  his  continued  inability 
to  recall  their  cause.  Those 
five  weeks  were  still  a  blank 
in  his  memory — a  blank  whose 
uncertainty  and  suggestiveness 
haunted  him  at  times,  making 
him  moody  and  irritable.  He 
had  often  the  feeling,  he  said, 
that  something  frightful  had 
happened  to  him  ;  and  while 
harrassed  by  his  ignorance,  he 
went  also  in  fear  of  suddenly 
remembering  what  that  some- 
thing was.  His  long  period  of 
idle  waiting  in  Switzerland  had 
been  the  worst  thing  for  him 
in  the  circumstances,  for,  with 
time  on  his  hands,  he  had 
brooded  too  much  over  his 


242 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


[Aug. 


nameless  terror,  and  he  was 
now  in  danger  of  succumbing 
to  one  fixed  idea — the  mystery 
of  himself.  However,  like  less 
afflicted  people,  he  had  to  earn 
his  living  when  he  returned  to 
England,  and  he  suffered  the 
disheartening  experiences  fa- 
miliar to  so  many  men  who, 
being  without  influence  or  per- 
manent occupation,  have  had 
to  begin  a  second  and  more 
difficult  life  after  an  absence 
of  four  or  five  years  in  a  world 
apart.  Corkran,  in  fact,  was 
almost  at  the  last  extremity 
when  Bulkeley  Cox  encoun- 
tered him,  and,  with  an  eye 
to  his  possible  value  as  an 
understudy  to  Peyton  Edg- 
cumbe,  gave  him  a  small  part 
at  the  Colossus. 

For  Corkran,  a  tall,  dark 
Irishman,  was  eminently  good- 
looking — of  much  the  same 
type  as  Edgcumbe  himself, 
only  more  genuine.  He  looked 
like  a  gentleman,  which  Edg- 
cumbe never  quite  succeeded 
in  doing.  Also  he  was  still 
under  thirty,  and,  once  his 
grey  hair  was  dyed,  had  no 
further  need  of  those  aids  to 
juvenility  practised  so  assidu- 
ously by  the  matine'e  idol — 
who,  in  point  of  fact,  was  then 
forty-two.  It  remained  to  be 
seen  whether  Corkran  had  the 
particular  gifts  (if  one  can  so 
describe  them)  required  for  the 
work.  His  rather  sombre  air, 
which  made  him  interesting, 
might  be  an  asset  in  itself ; 
and  if  he  could  act  with  a  suf- 
ficient degree  of  conventional 
emotion,  and  appear  far  more 
foolish  than  he  really  was,  it 


seemed  to  both  Cox  and  Open- 
shaw that  their  problem  was 
solved,  and  that  they  could 
permit  and  even  encourage 
Edgcumbe  (who  was  becoming 
a  nuisance)  to  fly  to  the  charmer 
awaiting  him  at  Edinburgh. 
Corkran  would  be  cheaper,  and 
much  more  amenable.  And, 
as  Openshaw  told  me,  he  was 
anxious  to  do  him  a  good  turn. 
The  young  Irishman  was  a 
genuine  sufferer  by  the  war, 
in  which  he  had  played  at 
least  a  respectable  part ;  while 
the  bland  and  immaculate  Edg- 
cumbe, who  had  spent  eighteen 
months  in  France  as  sub-deputy 
inspector  of  something  or  the 
other,  had  never  (as  every  one 
knew)  been  nearer  to  the  front 
line  than  Montreuil. 

It  was  soon  apparent  that 
Corkran  could  act,  and,  what 
was  more  important,  seemed 
capable  of  adjusting  himself  to 
the  Procrustean  conditions  of 
melodrama.  He  showed  at 
first  a  repugnance  toward  the 
play  itself — a  sort  of  shrinking 
from  all  this  reproduction  of 
a  past  which  had  afflicted  him 
so  cruelly.  In  particular,  the 
dug-out  scene,  in  which  he 
figured  as  the  Unteroffizier  in 
charge  of  the  prisoner,  so 
wrought  upon  him  at  his  first 
performance  that  he  came  from 
the  stage  shaking  and  unstrung, 
declaring  he  could  not  play 
again.  Something,  he  said — 
some  vague  echo  of  the  horrible 
— had  been  half -recalled  to  his 
mind  by  the  realism  of  the 
scene.  Cox,  however,  who  was 
a  very^shrewd  judge  of  merit, 
was  already  determined  not  to 


1921.] 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


243 


lose  so  promising  a  recruit ; 
and  he  succeeded  in  talking 
Corkran  round.  He  pointed 
out  to  him  that  he  had  his 
living  to  make,  and  must  over- 
come these  fanciful  prejudices, 
and  then  hinted  openly  that 
Edgcumbe's  part  was  waiting 
for  him,  at  least  to  attempt,  if 
and  when  that  erratic  amorist 
could  resist  the  call  of  Edin- 
burgh no  longer.  This  was,  in 
truth,  a  notable  compliment 
for  an  almost  unknown  actor 
who,  less  than  a  week  before, 
had  been  upon  the  edge  of 
starvation.  Cox  knew  what 
he  was  about ;  and  the  follow- 
ing night,  by  a  great  effort  of 
will,  Corkran  again  took  up 
his  part.  After  this,  he  seemed 
to  recover  rapidly  from  this 
attack  of  nerves — familiarity, 
perhaps,  had  bred  contempt ; 
and  his  creation  of  the  Unter- 
offlzier  became  one  of  the  best 
things  in  the  play — a  little 
piece  of  characterisation  which 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  see.  In 
other  ways  also  Corkran  proved 
of  use ;  for  the  knowledge  he 
had  acquired  in  the  intelligence 
service  enabled  him  to  offer 
several  valuable  suggestions  for 
the  two  German  scenes. 

His  great  chance,  as,  poor 
fellow,  it  must  have  seemed  to 
him,  came  within  a  fortnight 
of  his  first  appearance.  Peyton 
Edgcumbe  failed  to  turn  up 
one  evening.  He  had  not  gone 
to  Scotland :  he  had  only 
caught  the  influenza,  which 
respects  neither  persons  nor 
romance.  Corkran,  at  a  few 
hours'  notice,  took  over  the 
part  of  the  Honourable  Derek, 


and  at  once  transformed  what 
had  been  a  stereotyped  and 
insipid  rendering  into  one  so 
arresting  and  poignant  that 
the  whole  of  that  vast  audience 
was  unmanned.  Those  who 
came  to  cheer  or  snuffle  at  the 
appropriate  moments  remained 
to  thrill  and  weep  without 
shame.  It  was  the  apotheosis 
of  melodrama — the  shattering 
of  all  those  immemorial  con- 
ventions canonised  by  the 
Lyceum  and  Drury  Lane.  It 
was  more  than  clever  acting : 
in  the  unconsciously  prophetic 
words  of  Openshaw 's  adver- 
tisements, it  was  the  real 
thing.  .  .  . 

If  only  we  had  known ! 

For  my  part,  having  seen 
the  first  night  of  '  Sergeant 
Smith,'  I  had  no  intention  of 
seeing  it  again,  until  the  uni- 
versal praise  of  Corkran  in  the 
title-r61e  drew  me  to  the  Colos- 
sus on  the  fourth  occasion  of 
his  appearance  in  the  part. 
Before  the  curtain  fell,  I  almost 
wished  I  had  not  come.  The 
first  three  acts  afforded  little 
scope  for  his  ability  ;  but  the 
next  two — those  in  the  dug-out 
— were  very  nearly  unbearable. 
In  a  long  experience  of  the 
theatre,  I  can  recall  nothing 
to  touch  his  rendering  of  the 
starved  and  tortured  prisoner. 
What  made  it  more  remarkable 
was  the  banality  of  the  words 
he  had  to  utter :  one  would 
have  thought  it  all  but  im- 
possible to  extract  tragedy  from 
those  time-worn  heroics,  the 
cliches  of  every  popular  hero 
since  such  plays  were  staged. 
Yet  it  was  done  ;  or  perhaps 


244 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


the  foolish  words  were  lost 
and  forgotten  in  the  acting 
itself — the  gesture  and  expres- 
sion, the  tone  of  voice,  the 
whole  gripping  and  unforget- 
table ensemble.  The  result  was 
simply  horrible.  Even  while 
one  sat  enthralled,  one  prayed 
that  it  would  end.  Not  only 
the  audience,  but  every  person 
on  the  stage,  was  obviously 
affected  by  it.  The  competent 
but  colourless  caste,  once  its 
initial  bewilderment  subsided, 
was  inspired  to  brilliance  by 
this  example.  I  will  wager 
that,  during  those  few  moment- 
ous nights,  Acts  IV.  and  V.  of 
'  Sergeant  Smith,'  most  typical 
of  melodramas,  attained  heights 
that  any  picked  company  in 
any  famous  tragedy  might  envy 
and  attempt  to  emulate.  And 
I  remember  wondering  at  the 
time,  knowing  as  I  did  the 
outline  of  Corkran's  history, 
whether  his  subconscious  mem- 
ory was  not  in  part  the  author 
of  this  astounding  tour  de 
force.  .  .  . 


[Aug. 

Openshaw  and  Cox,  of  course, 
were  in  a  seventh  heaven  of 
delight.  They  only  regretted 
that  the  influenza,  and  not 
Edinburgh,  was  responsible  for 
Edgcumbe's  absence  ;  and  they 
were  wondering  how  they  could 
most  decently  and  economi- 
cally annul  his  contract  with 
them.  The  play  had  now  been 
running  for  over  a  month. 
The  ill-luck  which  had  pursued 
the  Colossus  since  its  erection 
was  at  last,  it  seemed,  definitely 
dispelled,  for  its  immense  audi- 
torium was  congested  every 
night ;  and  the  stories  of  Cork- 
ran's brilliance  had  given  a  new 
and  astonishing  influence  to 
the  advance  bookings.  Open- 
shaw's  reputation  for  infalli- 
bility was  now  more  secure 
than  the  Pope's.  He  was  al- 
ready talking  of  a  No.  2  Com- 
pany to  tour  the  provinces. 

He  would  have  done  better 
to  make  some  adequate  sacri- 
fice to  the  jealous  gods.  For 
in  this,  the  hour  of  his  triumph, 
disaster  came.  , 


m. 


The  day  after  I  saw  '  Ser- 
geant Smith  '  for  the  second 
time  I  happened  to  meet  Open- 
shaw, and  of  course  congratu- 
lated him  on  this  new  discovery. 
While  we  were  talking  of  the 
play,  I  expressed  some  curiosity 
about  the  staging  of  the  dug- 
out scene ;  and  he  at  once 
invited  me  to  see  for  myself 
how  it  was  done  the  following 
night,  when  he  would  be  at 
the  theatre.  By  this  chance 


meeting,  and  my  acceptance 
of  his  offer,  which  I  shall  always 
regret,  I  was  involved  in  the 
dreadful  climax  of  poor  Nigel 
Corkran's  tragedy. 

As  I  had  no  particular  desire 
to  sit  through  the  first  three 
acts  again,  I  did  not  reach 
the  Colossus  that  evening  until 
about  9.15,  or  shortly  before 
the  long  interval  between  Acts 
III.  and  IV.  Asking  for  Open- 
shaw himself,  I  was  taken  to  a 


1921.] 


Mr  Openshaw  presents 


245 


palatial  office  where  he  was 
dispensing  drinks  and  cigars 
to  other  plutocrats,  and  when 
a  bell  rang  at  the  fall  of  the 
curtain  he  led  me  on  to  the 
stage  and  delivered  me  over  to 
Bulkeley  Cox.  I  was  now  in 
a  world  quite  new  to  me,  so 
that  for  the  next  twenty  min- 
utes, when  I  was  not  dodging 
flying  masses  of  scenery,  I  was 
entirely  absorbed  in  watching 
the  innumerable  ingenious  de- 
vices by  which  the  great  dug- 
out was  built  up  amid  the 
simultaneous  dissolution  of  the 
Frenchj^barn.  In  respect  of 
such  mechanical  aids  the  Colos- 
sus stage,  of  course,  is  to  that 
of  any  ordinary  theatre  what 
a  battleship  is  to  a  brigantine. 
It  was  all  profoundly  interest- 
ing to  a  novice  ;  but  I  felt  that 
if  I  made  a  habit  of  going  be- 
hind the  scenes,  dramatic  re- 
presentation would  soon  lose 
for  me  all  power  of  creating 
any  genuine  illusion.  I  should 
be  always  thinking  of  the  ma- 
chinery behind  the  sunset. 

However,  as  I  say,  at  first 
sight  it  was  an  impressive  and 
astonishing  business.  One 
seemed  to  be  in  a  dissolving 
nightmare  world  of  gigantic 
proportions,  where  transparen- 
cies became  miraculously  opaque 
and  solids  melted  at  a  touch. 
And  when  the  dug-out  was 
eventually  complete  and  the 
curtain  rose  again  for  Act  IV., 
I  remained  in  the  wings  to 
finish  my  education  by  watch- 
ing the  performance  itself  from 
this  disconcerting  angle.  I 
chatted  occasionally  to  Cox 
and  some  of  the  actors.  Cork- 


ran,  whom  I  knew  only  by 
sight,  was  moving  restlessly 
about,  waiting  for  his  cue  ;  and 
his  haggard  and  oppressed  air 
was  noticeable  even  through 
his  admirable  make-up  as  the 
wounded  sergeant.  I  supposed 
it  to  be  one  of  his  bad  days, 
when  the  old  shadowy  mem- 
ories were  stirring,  reacting  as 
irritants  upon  his  nerves. 

It  is  necessary  to  describe 
briefly  here  the  sequence  of 
events  at  this  stage  of  the  play. 
The  first  part  of  Act  IV.  is 
taken  up  by  some  very  real- 
istic business  showing  the  ordi- 
nary night  life  in  the  head- 
quarters dug-out.  The  time 
is  supposed  to  be  an  hour  or  so 
before  dawn.  Orderlies  are 
asleep  in  the  wire  bunks ; 
others  come  and  go  with  mes- 
sages ;  a  steel-helmeted  sentry 
stands  at  the  foot  of  the  en- 
trance shaft ;  and  the  officer 
on  duty  lolls  and  yawns  in  a 
deck-chair  before  a  glowing 
stove,  smoking  a  cigar,  occa- 
sionally answering  the  tele- 
phone, and  continually  demand- 
ing coffee.  Presently  the  Col- 
onel, attended  by  one  of  his 
battalion  commanders  and  his 
adjutant,  makes  his  appear- 
ance, in  readiness  for  the  hour 
of  stand-to  ;  and  there  is  much 
saluting  and  clicking  of  heels. 
At  this  juncture  also,  Von 
Schoon,  now  a  staff  officer, 
comes  stumbling  down  the  steps. 
More  saluting  follows,  there  is 
a  little  general  conversation, 
and  hot  drinks  are  handed 
round.  The  Colonel  is  looking 
at  his  watch,  when  a  sudden 
uproar  breaks  out  above,  muf- 


246 


Mr  OpensJiaw  presents- 


fled,  by  twenty  feet  of  earth — 
the  thud  of  artillery  fire,  and 
the  more  distant  rattle  of 
machine-guns.  This,  of  course, 
is  the  British  raid.  Urgent 
messages  choke  the  telephone. 
Trench  maps  are  hastily  con- 
sulted. Orderlies  fall  headlong 
down  the  stairs  with  reports,  or 
scramble  up  them  with  orders. 
Other  officers,  buttoning  tunics 
and  adjusting  helmets  and 
equipment,  issue  from  the  pas- 
sages. Presently  the  Colonel, 
with  all  his  retinue,  also  ascends 
to  the  surface  ;  and  Von  Schoon 
is  left  in  the  dug-out  with  the 
orderly  officer,  who  is  glued  to 
the  telephone,  the  sentry,  and 
two  rather  agitated  clerks. 

All  this  was  exceedingly  well 
done.  The  innovation,  for 
melodrama,  of  making  the  char- 
acters speak  in  their  supposed 
tongue,  added  greatly  to  the 
realism  of  the  scene ;  and  the 
general  trend  of  these  pre- 
liminaries was  so  obvious  that 
even  a  Colossus  audience  could 
follow  it  without  the  guide  of 
intelligible  language.  From  now 
onward,  however,  the  exigencies 
of  the  play  demanded  certain 
improbabilities.  The  first  is 
the  unconscionably  rapid  ap- 
pearance of  half  a  dozen  British 
prisoners,  who  are  thrust  down 
the  stairs  by  fists  and  rifle- 
butts.  Among  them  is  Ser- 
geant Smith,  wounded  in  the 
arm. 

Smith,  of  course,  knows  Von 
Schoon  at  once ;  but  being 
himself  plastered  with  mud, 
remains  undiscovered  until  the 
prisoners,  after  a  formal  in- 
terrogation, are  being  taken 


[Aug. 

above-ground  again  on  their 
way  to  the  rear.  Von  Schoon 
then  suddenly  recognises  his 
old  victim,  and  orders  him  to 
be  retained  in  the  dug-out. 
The  rest  of  the  act  consists  of 
a  further  interrogation  and 
bullying  of  Smith,  in  the  course 
of  which  Von  Schoon  strikes 
him,  and  taunts  him  about 
Lady  Sylvia.  All  this  was  on 
normal  melodramatic  lines  ;  but 
where  Peyton  Edgcumbe  had 
achieved  only  third-rate  heroics, 
Corkran's  rendering,  a  sort  of 
dogged  sullenness  that  flamed 
up  at  times  into  blazing  anger 
and  defiance,  gave  reality  even 
to  the  clap-trap  he  had  to 
utter.  The  act  closes  with 
Von  Schoon's  departure,  threat- 
ening that  if  on  his  return 
Smith  still  refuses  to  give  in- 
formation, more  drastic  meth- 
ods of  persuasion  will  be  tried. 
Act  V.  represents  the  same 
scene  thirty-six  hours  later. 
Smith,  in  the  meantime,  hav- 
ing remained  obstinate,  has 
been  left  without  food  or  water, 
and  eventually  tortured  by 
order  of  his  enemy.  He  is  now 
dragged  in  again  in  a  state  of 
collapse,  and  shackled  (quite 
unnecessarily)  to  the  wall  by 
a  chain  taken  from  the  machine- 
gun  in  the  shaft — one  of  those 
chains,  by  the  way,  used  in 
fact  for  carrying  or  hauling 
the  gun,  which  during  the  war 
had  led  our  credulous  press  to 
believe  that  the  Germans  were 
padlocked  to  their  weapons. 
This  precaution  is  taken  in 
readiness  for  another  visit  and 
more  brutality  by  Von  Schoon. 
We  are  now,  of  course,  in 


1921.] 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


247 


regions  of  pure  fantasy.  What- 
ever the  Germans  did  to  their 
prisoners,  they  did  not  keep 
them  chained  up  in  such  places 
as  regimental  orderly  rooms, 
even  near  the  front  line.  On 
the  other  hand,  as  Openshaw 
said,  he  could  not  run  to  two 
separate  dug-outs. 

I  had  stood  through  Act  IV., 
meaning  to  leave  the  theatre 
when  it  was  over.  The  ensuing 
interval,  however,  being  very 
short,  I  was  still  lingering  in 
the  wings,  talking  to  Halliday, 
who  played  the  German  Colonel, 
when  the  curtain  rose  again  ; 
and  fatality  held  me  to  the 
spot  until  it  was  too  late.  For 
now,  within  a  few  minutes,  the 
awful  thing  happened. 

After  a  little  preliminary 
business,  Corkran,  his  uniform 
in  rags,  his  face  made  up  in  a 
horrible  mask  of  sham  dirt 
and  blood,  and  one  arm  in  a 
filthy  sling,  reeled  on  with  his 
guard.  He  was  at  once  shackled 
by  the  chain  to  a  staple  in  one 
of  the  famous  baulks  of  timber 
brought  over  from  France,  with- 
in a  few  yards  of  where  I  stood, 
on  what  I  believe  is  called  the 
prompt  side.  He  collapsed  on 
the  floor  as  per  stage  directions, 
and  the  guard,  having  pretend- 
ed to  kick  him,  turned  away. 
The  staple  to  which  he  was 
chained  (it  was  an  authentic 
fitting,  and  gave  Cox  the  idea) 
stood  about  three  feet  from 
the  floor ;  and  presently  he 
reached  for  this  with  his  un- 
wounded  arm  and  tried  to  pull 
himself  to  his  legs,  as  became 
a  still  defiant  if  badly-battered 
British  soldier.  So  far,  all  was 


in  order.  This  was  a  repetition 
of  every  previous  night's  per- 
formance. But  now  came  a 
new  touch — as  at  first  I  thought 
it.  As  Corkran,  clinging  to 
the  staple,  got  himself  feebly 
on  to  one  knee,  I  saw  his 
glance  rest  upon  a  spot  on  the 
wall  about  eighteen  inches 
higher  up,  and  to  his  left. 
His  eyelids  half  closed,  as  if 
he  was  focussing  something, 
and  then  they  opened  wide 
and  I  saw  the  pupils  suddenly 
distend.  Doubt,  remembrance, 
fear,  and  then  stark,  unbear- 
able horror  grew  in  them  as  I 
watched.  From  where  I  stood 
I  could  not  make  out  what  it 
was  that  he  saw  ;  but  it  was 
clear  enough  now  that  he  was 
no  longer  acting,  that  he  had 
forgotten  all  about  the  play 
and  where  he  was  ;  and  a  pre- 
monition of  disaster  seized  me. 
Still  holding  to  the  staple,  he 
remained  in  this  position,  mo- 
tionless, for  perhaps  thirty 
seconds,  his  eyes  glaring,  his 
face  ghastly  beneath  the  paint. 
Then  he  drew  himself  slowly 
up,  his  gaze  always  fixed,  as 
if  hypnotised,  upon  that  spot 
on  the  wall.  Up  to  this  point, 
the  other  actors  on  the  stage 
had  paid  little  attention  to 
his  proceedings :  they  could 
not  see  his  face,  and  supposed 
only  that  he  was  introducing 
some  slight  variation  into  his 
part.  But  a  man  standing 
beside  me  in  the  wings,  who 
saw  what  I  saw,  muttered  in 
my  ear,  "  What  the  devil  is 
the  fellow  playing  at  .  .  .  ?  " 

Corkran   was   now   standing 
upright,   bending  a  little  for- 


248 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


[Aug. 


ward,  with  one  hand  still  on 
the  staple.  Slipping  the  other 
from  its  sling,  he  slowly  ex- 
tended his  fingers,  that  shook 
as  if  with  the  palsy,  toward  the 
timber,  and  began  to  draw 
them  up  and  down  the  latter, 
evidently  feeling  something  to 
assure  himself  that  it  was  real. 
I  heard  him  take  a  gasping 
breath.  At  that  moment,  as 
it  happened,  it  fell  to  one  of 
the  guards  to  swing  his  rifle- 
butt  at  the  prisoner,  laughing 
and  crying  out,  "  Ah,  verdomte 
Engldnder  !  Wie  geht's  f"  As 
the  butt  swung  by  him  against 
the  wall,  Corkran  gave  a  yell 
— no  other  word  can  describe 
it — and  fell  in  a  heap  on  the 
stage,  his  hands  over  his  eyes, 
and  so  lay,  shaken  by  horrible, 
tearing  sobs.  It  was  obvious 
to  every  one  now  that  some- 
thing was  very  far  wrong  with 
him.  Stevens,  an  ex-gunner, 
who  took  the  part  of  the  guard, 
stepped  up  to  him  and  whis- 
pered. The  man  standing  by 
me,  saying  "I  must  find  Cox," 
turned  and  disappeared.  But 
simultaneously,  after  a  thump- 
ing of  feet  on  the  dug-out 
stairs,  Thistleton,  as  Von 
Schoon,  emerged  from  the  shaft 
and  strode  toward  the  prisoner. 
Corkran  looked  up  quickly, 
threw  one  arm  across  his  face, 
as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow,  and 
crushed  himself  against  the 
wall.  Thistleton,  obviously 
taken  aback  by  this  new  depar- 
ture— for  Corkran  should,  of 
course,  have  been  standing — 
hesitated  for  a  moment ;  and 
then,  with  the  actor's  instinct 
for  concealing  any  contretemps 


and  keeping  the  play  moving, 
proceeded  with  his  role,  saying 
harshly  in  English,  "  Well,  you 
dog !  Are  you  in  a  better 
frame  of  mind  ?  Are  you 
going  to  speak,  or  .  .  .  ?  " 

And  Corkran  spoke,  crouch- 
ing there  against  the  wall — 
spoke  like  an  utterly  broken 
man,  gasping  and  sobbing,  his 
words  almost  inaudible  at  first, 
his  voice  so  charged  with  terror 
and  despair  that  to  hear  it  was 
intolerable. 

"  Not  the  bayonet !  "  he 
sobbed.  "  Not  the  bayonet 
again  .  .  . !  I  can't  stand  it ! 
You  brutes,  look  at  my  hands 
..."  (He  held  them  out.) 
"  Yes,  I'U  speak.  I'll  tell  you 
anything  .  .  .  anything." 

"  Steady,  old  fellow !  "  This- 
tleton whispered  ;  but  Corkran 
heard  nothing.  He  was  flung 
back  into  another  world.  He 
began  to  speak  rapidly  and 
shrilly,  sometimes  as  if  in 
answer  to  definite  questions 
which  he  alone  could  hear, 
sometimes  pouring  out  an  un- 
intelligible stream  of  words  in 
which  French  and  German  were 
mingled  with  his  own  tongue. 
But  the  general  tenor  of  his 
speech  was  only  too  intelligible. 
...  I  shall  never  forget  the 
grotesque  horror  of  that  scene 
— the  group  of  astounded  men 
in  their  German  uniforms  and 
ugly  grey-green  helmets  like 
vast  snail-shells,  standing  help- 
lessly, the  play  forgotten,  over 
that  huddled  figure  whose  voice 
was  uttering  again  its  once 
fatal  revelations  of  dates  and 
plans  of  attack,  numbers  of 
divisions  and  brigades,  secrets 


1921.] 


Mr  Openshaw  presents- 


249 


upon  whose  safe-keeping  had 
hung  the  destiny  of  thousands. 
...  It  seemed  an  interminable 
nightmare,  although  in  fact  it 
was  over  in  a  minute  or  two. 
Unconsciously,  I  had  stepped 
on  to  the  stage  :  I  was  aware 
of  other  people — Cox,  Halliday, 


Openshaw  himself — rushing  by 
me :  I  was  aware  also  that 
the  curtain  had  fallen,  cutting 
off  the  buzz  of  talk  from  the 
excited  audience.  And  then 
Corkran,  struggling  now  and 
screaming,  was  being  carried 
away.  .  .  . 


rv. 


He  never  recovered.  He  was 
found  to  be  hopelessly  insane. 

It  will  be  remembered  how 
not  only  that  night's  perform- 
ance, but  the  whole  career  of 
the  play,  was  summarily  ended 
by  this  tragedy.  Openshaw, 
although  strictly  he  was  in  no 
way  to  blame,  felt  deeply  what 
he  thought  was  his  responsi- 
bility for  the  wretched  affair. 
Through  him,  he  said,  a  shock- 
ing secret  which,  in  all  likeli- 
hood, would  never  have  been 
known,  even  to  the  poor  victim 
himself,  was  become  public 
property.  It  was  impossible, 
of  course,  to  hush  it  up  ;  for 
the  people  in  the  front  rows 
of  the  stalls  had  gathered  as 
clearly  as  we  on  the  stage  the 
gist  of  Corkran's  unconscious 
confession.  The  cheaper  news- 
papers, with  much  affectation 
of  decent  reticence,  contrived 
to  disclose  very  plainly  what 
had  happened,  and  made  thinly- 
veiled  criticisms  of  Openshaw 's 
conduct.  But  before  this  oc- 
curred— indeed  on  the  very 
night — he  had  decided  to  end 
at  once  the  run  of  '  Sergeant 
Smith.'  Openshaw  was  a  man 
of  sensibility  and  strong  pa- 
triotic feeling,  and  he  had  a 

VOL.   CCX. — NO.  MCCLXX. 


juster  sense  of  what,  in  the 
circumstances,  was  demanded 
by  decency  and  good  taste 
than  his  penny-a-line  calum- 
niators. 

For  I  am  afraid  there  can 
be  no  doubt  at  all  as  to  the 
real  meaning  of  that  terrible 
scene  on  the  Colossus  stage. 
When  the  night's  disturbance 
had  in  some  way  subsided,  and 
the  bewildered  audience  was 
streaming  noisily  out,  I  went 
to  find  what  it  was  that  had 
caught  poor  Nigel  Corkran's 
eye  and  precipitated  his  break- 
down. I  have  said  that  the 
old  dug-out  timbers  were  mark- 
ed in  places  by  inscriptions  and 
the  like.  On  the  next  baulk 
to  that  which  held  the  staple, 
and  at  the  point  where  his 
terrified  gaze  had  been  fixed, 
I  found  what  was  indeed  for 
him  the  writing  on  the  wall. 
First  there  was  a  rude  carving 
of  an  eagle  ;  below  that  a  well- 
cut  inscription  in  Eoman  char- 
acters— 

XXXIII.     I.E. 

— and  below  this  again  some 
very   faint   and   almost   inde- 
cipherable  lettering   done   ap- 
i  2 


250 


Mr  OpensJiaw  presents- 


[Aug. 


parently  with  a  heated  iron, 
perhaps  a  bayonet.  With  con- 
siderable difficulty  I  made  it 
out  to  read,  "  Hier  ein  Eng- 
lander  spracht !  " — "  Here  an 
Englishman  talked  !  "  And  fin- 
ally there  was  a  date — 30/6/16. 
I  thought  of  poor  Corkran's 
shaking  fingers  tracing  out  these 
words  and  conveying  to  his 
overwrought  brain,  after  three 
years,  the  secret  of  those  lost 
weeks  of  his  ;  and  I  marvelled 
at  the  fatality  which  surrounded 
the  discovery  with  every  cir- 
cumstance of  illusion — the  dug- 
out scene,  the  grey-helmeted 
figures,  the  harsh  German 
tongue.  .  .  . 

We  found  out  afterwards  that 
Corkran  was  actually  captured 
in  front  of  Beaumont  Hamel 
ontthe  morning  of  29th  June 
1916.  The  great  Franco-British 


attack,  which  we  call  the  first 
battle  of  the  Somme,  began 
forty-eight  hours  later.  As  an 
Intelligence  Officer,  Corkran 
must  have  been  in  possession 
of  much  special  information 
about  the  sector  allotted  to  his 
division  and  corps ;  and  we 
all  know  what  happened  at 
Serre  and  Beaumont  Hamel 
on  1st  July. 

I  heard  of  the  final,  and  I 
suppose  the  most  convincing, 
piece  of  corroboration  some 
months  later,  when  I  met 
Openshaw  at  a  dinner. 

"I've  found  out  where  that 
damned  dug-out  came  from," 
he  said.  "  It  was  a  head- 
quarters of  some  sort  in  Beau- 
mont Hamel.  And  the  German 
regiment  holding  that  part  of 
the  line  in  June  '16  was  the 
33rd  Infantry.  ..." 


1921.] 


251 


FEOM   THE   OUTPOSTS. 


ON  THE  MARCH  WITH  ELEPHANTS. 


BY  H.  WAEINGTON  SMYTH,  C.M. 


THERE  is  no  more  cheery 
beast  to  be  fellow-traveller  with 
than  the  elephant.  His  small 
twinkling  eye  is  full  of  mis- 
chief, and  his  great  broad 
mouth  seems  curved  to  the 
shape  of  silent  laughter.  In 
his  youth  especially  he  is  irre- 
pressible. In  Siam  and  the 
Lao  States  we  generally  had 
three  or  four  little  ones  travel- 
ling with  their  mamas.  They 
were  four  or  five  feet  high, 
and  weighed  some  fifteen  hun- 
dredweight. When  we  camped 
they  charged  about  the  camp 
with  delighted  grunts  and 
squeals,  pushing  their  trunks 
into  our  bedding  and  belong- 
ings, and  withdrawing  them 
with  astonished  snorts.  Sitting 
by  the  camp-fire  there  would 
be  a  rustle  behind  you,  and 
next  instant  a  rough  hairy 
little  trunk  came  round  your 
shoulder,  and  if  you  happened 
to  be  munching  a  banana  or  a 
biscuit,  it  was  grabbed  and 
gone  in  an  instant.  If  you 
were  smoking  a  tough,  excel- 
lent, but  black  Burmese  cheroot, 
there  was  a  snort  of  indigna- 
tion. You  would  turn  round 
to  see  three  or  four  dashing 
away  with  mutual  expressions 
of  disgust,  the  little  fellow  who 
had  come  against  that  nasty 
hot  part  of  the  cheroot  cooling 
the  end  of  his  trunk  in  his 


mouth,  just  like  a  schoolboy 
who  has  burnt  his  finger.  Like 
boys  at  school,  too,  they  used 
to  have  shunting  matches.  Two 
of  them  would  put  their  heads 
down  and  shove.  They  would 
get  their  whole  weight  into  it 
by  degrees,  their  strong  little 
hind-legs  at  a  good  angle  out 
behind,  their  trunks  coiled  care- 
fully up  under  their  mouths  to 
be  out  of  danger.  The  other 
two  would  be  looking  on,  one 
swinging  his  trunk  in  a  con- 
templative manner,  the  other 
solemnly  scratching  himself 
with  a  bit  of  a  fallen  branch, 
both  hugely  pleased  and  emit- 
ting curious  rumblings,  as  if 
to  say,  "  Go  it,  you  fellows  !  " 
The  two  performers  soon  began 
to  breathe  heavily,  and  then 
weight  would  tell ;  the  smaller 
began  to  give  way,  and  then 
suddenly  he  would  break  off  and 
go  off  full  speed  away  through 
the  trees.  If  his  pursuer  fol- 
lowed him,  he  would  try  and 
make  a  flank  attack  from 
ambush,  and  would  charge  with 
a  terrific  squeal. 

The  most  successful  ruse  I 
ever  saw  one  of  these  young- 
sters bring  off  was  when  I  was 
crossing  the  central  range  of  the 
Malay  Peninsula. 

I  was  riding  a  pleasant- 
mannered  old  tusker,  and  just 
in  front  on  the  narrow  jungle- 


252 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Aug. 


track  marched  a  mother  ele- 
phant and  her  babe.  Behind 
came  our  whole  caravan  of 
elephants,  stretching  away  out 
of  sight  among  the  trees.  The 
children  often  romped  along 
together,  and  ju^st  behind  the 
babe  in  front  of  us  was  walking 
sedately  another  young  one, 
named  "  Deng "  from  his 
reddish  bristles,  a  little  older 
and  bigger,  which  had  left  its 
mother  to  talk  and  play  with 
its  chum. 

Presently  as  we  climbed  along 
a  vast  mountain-side  with  the 
interminable  forest  far  above 
us  on  the  right,  and  going  deep 
into  the  dense  nullahs  below 
on  the  left  of  our  narrow  track, 
we  heard  exclamations  from 
mahouts  behind  and  angry 
elephant  snorts.  Then  came 
tearing  along  past  all  the  big 
elephants  a  third  and  small 
dusty  creature  running  and 
pushing  its  way.  My  own  ma- 
hout burst  into  abuse  as  this 
impudent  little  creature  pushed 
by  my  elephant  on  the  inside. 
My  elephant  looked  round 
and  stopped,  doubtless  to  ask 
what  this  blank  Master  Chom 
meant  by  these  ill  manners. 

But  without  any  more  ado 
Master  Chom  pushed  up  along- 
side his  playmate  Deng  just 
in  front  of  us  and  on  his  in- 
side. He  walked  beside  him 
for  some  way,  and  caressed 
him  in  a  friendly  manner  with 
his  trunk  ;  then  suddenly  he 
turned,  and  with  head  down 
and  fore-shoulders  well  for- 
ward, he  gave  the  poor  Deng 
a  running  butt  right  in  the 
side,  and  sent,  him  toppling 


and  rolling  over  the  edge  of  the 
mountain-path. 

And  then  the  trouble  began. 
Poor  Deng  lost  his  footing  and 
rolled  off  sideways,  and  rolled 
and  pitched,  carrying  away 
small  trees  and  saplings  as  he 
went  down  some  hundreds  of 
feet.  I  thought  the  poor  little 
beast  would  be  killed ;  but 
the  whole  time  he  emitted  a 
series  of  heartrending  shrieks. 
He  was  finally  brought  up  in 
a  mass  of  debris  by  a  big  tree- 
trunk.  I  took  a  hasty  look  at 
the  culprit  Chom,  and  could 
not  help  laughing  at  his  ap- 
pearance. He  stood  on  the 
edge  quite  solemnly  looking 
down  at  the  unfortunate  Deng, 
swinging  the  tip  of  his  trunk 
from  side  to  side  with  an  air 
of  complete  delight  and  satis- 
faction. 

Now  commenced  a  perfect 
uproar  down  the  lines  of  ele- 
phants behind,  the  shouting  of 
mahouts,  the  angry  high-note 
trumpetings  of  angry  crea- 
tures. "It  is  the  mother 
comes,"  laconically  said  my 
mahout  as  he  began  to  bang 
my  mount  on  the  head  to  try 
and  get  him  on  the  inside  of  the 
track  safe  against  the  moun- 
tain. There  was  no  attempt 
to  go  forward.  All  the  animals 
had  stopped  dead,  and  would 
not  move  on.  Pushing,  snort- 
ing, and  emitting  short  anxi- 
ous trumpetings  came  Deng's 
mother.  When  she  got  abreast 
of  us  there  was  hardly  room 
for  her  to  pass,  and  the  two 
huge  bodies  crashed  together 
like  the  collision  of  two  ships 
at  sea.  Her  mahout  was  doing 


1921.] 


On  the  March  with  Elephants. 


253 


all  he  could  to  stop  her,  with- 
out the  very  least  effect. 

She  looked  down  for  one 
moment  at  ,  where  her  off- 
spring lay  far  below  whimper- 
ing sadly ;  then  putting  out 
her  fore-legs  straight  in  front, 
she  went  down  on  her  hind 
knees,  and  so  over  the  edge, 
and  away  down  into  the  depths. 

It  all  took  no  time.  The 
men  wanted  to  get  the  howdah 
and  gear  off  her  back,  to  get 
their  long  rattan  ropes  ready, 
and  generally  set  about  the 
thing  in  a  leisurely  manner. 
But  Deng's  mother  would  have 
no  delay.  All  we  could  do 
now  was  to  wait  and  see  what 
she  would  do.  I  had  a  curious 
feeling  of  our  own  smaUness, 
and  that  the  old  elephant's 
wisdom  was  probably  greater 
than  ours,  as  was  her  strength. 

She  got  down  without  injury, 
though  at  times  she  seemed 
to  be  taking  the  whole  moun- 
tain -  side  with  her.  I  was 
anxious,  too,  for  her  mahout. 
He,  with  his  jungle  sense, 
knew  it  was  no  use  protesting 
further.  He  lay  on  the  great 
neck  of  his  charge,  well  over 
behind  her  great  ear  to  avoid 
the  branches  and  undergrowth 
as  she  swept  down  the  mountain- 
side, while  he  whispered  soft 
encouragements  and  cautions. 
My  mahout  said,  "  The  old 
man's  all  right,  Nai ;  they 
know  one  another."  When  she 
reached  about  the  level  of  the 
mass  of  debris  which  marked 
the  resting-place  of  her  little 
son,  we  saw  the  creature  make 
a  great  effort,  and  by  some 
means  utilising  the  obstruc- 


tion of  two  big  trees,  she  man- 
aged to  arrest  the  downward 
avalanche  of  earth,  rock,  under- 
growth, and  young  trees  which 
had  gone  with  her,  and  which 
was  increasing  in  volume  every 
moment.  Presently  as  the  dust 
subsided  somewhat,  we  could 
see  the  animal  working 
patiently  towards  the  goal, 
building  a  sure  foothold  for 
each  foot  until  at  last  she  was 
standing  on  a  firm  platform 
of  well-trodden  earth  and  under- 
growth within  reach  of  the  still 
whimpering  Deng. 

He  stopped  his  whimper- 
ing when  he  felt  his  mother's 
trunk  caressing  him.  And  then 
we  watched  a  wonderful  thing 
— men  and  elephants  in  a  long 
line  on  the  narrow  track  looking 
down  into  the  dark  foliage 
with  its  splashes  of  sunlight 
here  and  there.  The  mother 
elephant  caressed  the  little 
creature  all  over,  and  cleared 
off  the  saplings  and  branches 
that  were  in  his  way  ;  then 
slowly  and  grumblingly  tried 
to  get  him  upright  as  she  seemed 
satisfied  no  bones  were  broken. 
It  was  a  difficult  job,  and  now 
and  then  poor  Deng  would 
start  whimpering  again.  But 
at  last  he  was  sitting  up  facing 
our  mountain  -  side,  trembling 
as  a  frightened  elephant  does. 
He  was  then  caressed  and 
cajoled  with  that  loving  trunk 
for  minutes  together  ;  then  he 
twined  his  own  doleful  little 
trunk  round  it,  as  if  saying, 
"  Thanks,  mummy,  I'm  better 
now." 

Then  came  the  most  difficult 
part  of  the  mother  elephant's 


254 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Aug. 


undertaking — the  climb  up  to 
the  path  overhead  where  we 
all  stood.  Deng's  mother  had 
no  doubts  as  to  the  next 
thing  to  be  done,  and  deliber- 
ately put  her  huge  forehead  un- 
der his  little  behind,  and  with 
short  frantic  pushes  shoved 
him  up  the  mountain  steepness. 
Deng  struggled  with  his  feet, 
and  now  and  then  would  nearly 
fall  over  to  one  side  or  the 
other  ;  but  always  that  broad 
forehead  was  there  to  hold  him 
up,  and  now  and  then  that 
kind  trunk  would  go  all  over 
his  little  body  again,  and  each 
time  he  grew  calmer  and  was 
game  for  another  struggle  up- 
ward. I  don't  know  how  long 
it  took.  It  seemed  like  an 
hour.  Often  I  thought  they 
would  both  lose  their  feet  and 
go  rolling  away  together.  And 
all  the  time  there  sat  that  old 
mahout  talking  encouragingly 
into  the  old  creature's  ear,  but 
leaving  her  to  do  it  her  own 
way. 

At  last  they  stood  once 
more  upon  the  track,  both 
bathed  in  sweat  and  panting 
like  two  huge  locomotives.  And 
then  I  admired  the  under- 
standing of  our  mahouts.  "  We 
will  go  on,  Nai,  and  leave  them 
to  be  together  for  a  little." 
So  carefully,  on  the  outside, 
stepped  by  all  the  elephants 
one  by  one,  and  we  left  the 
two  trembling  creatures — the 
little  one  standing  close  in 
under  its  mother's  great  body, 
her  trunk  still  going  over  it ; 
and  the  old  mahout  still  sitting 
quietly  on  her  neck  chewing  his 
bit  of  betel-nut. 


But  when  we  got  to  camp 
it  was  decided  that  Choin 
must  be  brought  up  for  punish- 
ment. ISTo  hole  -  and  -  corner 
nursery  affair  this,  but  a  full- 
parade  court-martial.  The  evi- 
dence was,  unfortunately,  over- 
whelming, and  as  President  of 
the  Court  it  was  my  painful 
duty  to  pronounce  judgment. 
This  was  carried  out  at  noon 
in  the  presence  of  a  full  muster 
of  all  the  elephants,  young  and 
old,  and  it  was  evident  that 
even  the  younger  ones  were 
greatly  impressed.  The  pris- 
oner was  to  stand  in  the  hot 
noontide  sun  for  an  hour, 
with  a  big  bunch  of  bananas 
just  out  of  reach  before  him, 
and  in  front  of  the  whole  camp. 

I  felt  sorry  for  the  little  cul- 
prit, looking  so  bored  and  crest- 
fallen ;  and  to  make  matters 
worse,  he  was  harangued  at 
length  by  his  mama's  mahout, 
a  boy  of  about  fourteen,  whose 
father  and  grandfather  had 
been  mahouts  to  the  same 
elephant.  Leaning  against  the 
mother  elephant's  front  leg, 
his  glistening  brown  limbs  look- 
ing like  polished  teak  in  the 
sun,  the  small  mahout  fired  off 
the  worst  vituperation  he  was 
capable  of. 

"  You  are  no  elephant,"  said 
he,  "  but  a  little  black  pig 
running  about  in  a  Chinaman's 
pig-sty  :  that's  what  you  are 
Like.  Your  mother  here  hides 
her  head  in  shame  at  the  baby 
pig  which  she  has  produced. 
Stand  there  in  the  sun,  eat 
nothing,  and  you  shall  beg 
pardon  and  salaam  to  Deng's 
mahout  when  he  comes  in." 


1921.] 


Jottings  from  Barataria. 


255 


Poor  Chom's  head  drooped 
lower  and  lower ;  now  and 
then  his  little  eyes  looked  up 
our  way  for  a  moment  and 
twinkled,  as  if  asking  for  a 
little  sympathy.  We  got  up 
from  our  semicircle.  "  The 
mahout  speaks  truth,"  we  said 
solemnly,  and  walked  away. 
Chom  stood  pouring  trunkfuls 
of  dust  over  his  back  at  inter- 
vals, lifting  first  one  foot  and 
then  the  other  off  the  ground, 
looking  sadly  out  upon-  the 
unforgiving  world  with  his  little 
eyes,  and  now  and  then  emit- 
ting a  rumble  and  a  sigh  which 
shook  the  earth,  whenever  his 
eye  lit  upon  the  banana  bunch 
which  he  might  not  touch. 

So  he  waited  in  the  dazzling 
sun  while  his  mama  was  en- 
joying crunching  up  fourteen- 
inch  bamboos  in  a  neighbour- 
ing bamboo  -  brake,  every 
scrunch  being  audible  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  off. 


The  last  scene  was  when 
Deng  arrived  trotting  beside 
his  mother.  Both  had  quite 
recovered.  Chom's  elaborate 
salaam  and  look  of  contrition 
were  not  even  noticed  by  Deng's 
parent,  but  Deng  in  a  most 
engaging  and  forgiving  manner 
went  straight  up  to  Chom  and 
gave  him  a  butt  in  the  side. 
Then  they  were  allowed  to  go 
off  together ;  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  irate  voice  of  the 
Siamese  cook,  swearing  in  ad- 
mirable English,  announced 
that  their  trunks  had  found  out 
the  big  rice  bowl,  and  the 
whole  contents  had  been  spilt. 
Neither  sticks  nor  abuse  from 
anybody  but  their  own  ma- 
houts, who  were  hastily  sent 
for,  had  any  effect  in  driving 
them  away  until  the  last  crumbs 
of  rice  had  been  picked  up  in 
their  trunks  and  safely  de- 
posited down  their  capacious 
throats. 


JOTTINGS   FROM   BARATABIA. 


Picture  a  broad  plateau, 
five  or  six  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea,  with  ample  space  for 
golf  links,  racecourse,  polo, 
cricket,  and  football  grounds, 
as  well  as  lawn-tennis  courts 
in  countless  numbers.  Singu- 
larly untropical,  with  fragrant 
pines  in  place  of  everlasting 
palms,  wild  roses  clustering  in 
the  hedges,  most  English  of 
equatorial  landscapes.  Not 
many  years  ago  it  was  em- 
bowered in  virgin  forest  and 
undergrowth,  a  lodge  in  the 
wilderness.  It  was  easy  to 


lose  one's  way  in  the  mazy 
thickets,  and  wild  beasts  were 
as  common  as  spiders.  Eiding 
at  eve,  a  hapless  couple  lost 
their  bearings,  mistook  the 
smouldering  red  embers  of  a 
forest  fire  for  the  lights  of  the 
Club  on  the  hill,  and  were 
almost  fain  to  sit  down  weep- 
ing and  await  the  dawn. 
Luckily,  the  creaking  of  a 
native  cart  guided  them  to  the 
road  and  a  late  dinner.  Still 
more  happily,  the  squire  was 
of  a  character  so  rigid  and  au- 
stere that  the  most  unreason- 


256 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Aug. 


able  of  husbands  could  think 
no  evil.  Once  at  least  in  the 
little  hospital  lay  three  wood- 
cutters, each  in  his  separate 
cot,  each  mauled  by  his  several 
bear.  One  sportsman  recounted 
his  meeting  with  a  tiger  whom  he 
slew  with  his  revolver  !  his  fail- 
ure to  produce  or  skin  or  claws 
was  never  clearly  explained. 
Another  was  followed  by  a  bear 
pat-patting  for  miles  close  to 
his  horse's  hoofs.  Still  a  third, 
a  reverend  man,  told  how  a 
tiger  leaped  behind  him  on  to 
his  pony's  quarters,  and  was 
borne  almost  to  the  stable  by 
the  astonished  steed.  "  And 
if  you  don't  believe  me,  you 
may  see  the  marks  of  his  claws 
on  the  saddle."  Another,  walk- 
ing under  melancholy  boughs, 
heard  a  noise  overhead,  and 
looking  up  saw  a  bear  climbing 
down  a  tree  towards  him.  Just 
then  the  branch  broke  and  cast 
the  beast  at  his  feet ;  with 
much  presence  of  mind  he 
waved  his  hat,  and  the  bear 
hurried  off  into  the  woods. 
One  story  I  have  always  ac- 
cepted with  some  reserve.  A 
certain  man  was  riding  on  an 
elephant,  when  a  tiger  leaped 
upon  it.  The  rider  hastily  slid 
off,  but,  anxious  not  to  be  left 
alone  in  the  desert,  kept  hold 
of  the  elephant's  tail.  The 
tiger,  obviously  a  man-eater, 
after  vainly  searching  the  how- 
dah  for  its  occupant,  came  to 
the  ground  to  look  for  him. 
As  the  questing  beast  made  a 
spring,  the  sagacious  elephant 
swung  his  master  just  out  of 
reach.  Having  effected  this 
skilful  manoeuvre  once  or  twice, 


with  an  extra  vigorous  switch 
of  his  tail  he  replaced  the  story- 
teller in  the  howdah  and  trotted 
away,  leaving  the  tiger  speech- 
less and  motionless  with  sur- 
prise and  disgust. 

A  less  thrilling  age  has  now 
supervened.  Undergrowth  re- 
moved, stumps  uprooted,  holes 
filled,  many  miles  of  rides  over 
crisp  turf  have  been  cut  through 
the  forest,  no  more  the  scene 
of  gay  adventure.  In  other 
ways,  our  rough  edges  have 
been  smoothed.  In  early  sav- 
age times,  at  the  Club,  the 
sexes  were  as  sharply  separated 
as  in  a  High  Church.  Men 
played  cards  and  billiards  and 
mixed  strange  drinks  in  a 
sumptuous  house,  while  for 
ladies  was  provided,  some  fur- 
long away,  a  tiny  mat-and- 
thatch  hut  called  by  the  pro- 
fane "  The  Hen  Coop."  To-day 
more  gracious  manners  prevail. 

At  Fort  Julian  is  the  palace 
of  Barataria's  kings,  whose 
spotless  lineage  stretches  back 
so  far  that  its  origin  is  lost  in 
the  mists  of  prehistoric  an- 
tiquity. When,  after  bloody 
conflict,  we  conquered  this 
goodly  land,  for  a  time  the 
palace  was  filled  with  men  of 
war.  In  the  lovely  gardens, 
traversed  by  many  a  running 
brook  and  many  a  still  water- 
course, under  the  soft  tropic 
starlight,  we  roamed,  seeking 
refreshment  after  the  labours 
of  the  day.  Thick  growing 
water-plants  covered  the  canals 
with  a  green  carpet.  In  the 
uncertain  light  a  stroller  walk- 
ing ahead  of  his  companions 
mistook  this  green  expanse  for 


1921.] 


Jottings  from  Barataria. 


257 


a  grassy  lawn.  The  man  behind 
had  scarce  time  to  ejaculate, 
"  If  that  fellow  doesn't  mind 
— by  Jove  !  he's  in  !  "  as  he 
took  the  plunge  and  disap- 
peared, emerging  a  moment 
later  garbed  in  dripping  fronds. 
Now  the  gardens  are  deso- 
late ;  the  lizard  and  the  ringed 
snake  keep  the  golden  halls. 

No  more  delightful  place  for 
a  summer  visit  than  the  Besi- 
dency,  an  English  country-house 
set  in  the  midst  of  rolling  lawns 
and  shady  bowers,  recalling 
home  in  a  distant  land.  It 
was  the  end  of  the  season,  and 
the  Admiral,  having  left  the 
flagship  in  port  at  Santa  Maria, 
was  spending  a  few  days  with 
our  Governor.  This  was  merely 
an  informal  meeting.  In  Bara- 
taria, the  point  of  etiquette  is 
exceeding  fine  and  sharp.  Pre- 
sently when  the  Court,  so  to 
speak,  returned  to  the  capital, 
Governor  and  Admiral  tra- 
velled in  separate  trains,  arriv- 
ing on  the  same  day,  and  the 
Admiral  rejoined  his  ship.  Pre- 
cisely at  noon,  while  gunners 
fired  a  loud  salute,  he  landed 
at  the  principal  jetty,  inspected 
the  Guard  of  Honour,  and 
escorted  by  the  Body-guard 
drove  to  Government  House. 
There,  surrounded  by  a  brilliant 
Staff,  the  Governor  in  full 
array  sat  in  state  to  welcome 
him.  They  greeted  formally  as 
if  they  had  never  met  before  ; 
and  after  a  brief  interchange  of 
courtesies,  the  Admiral  returned 
to  his  ship.  Later  in  the  day, 
with  similar  ceremonies,  the 
official  call  was  returned.  After 
that  our  Admiral  transferred 


himself  to  Government  House 
for  the  rest  of  his  stay.  Such 
are  the  innocent  pomps  where- 
with we  impress  the  natives  in 
the  dominions  beyond  the  seas. 
Indeed,  in  all  social  intercourse 
Santa  Maria  is  punctilious  to 
the  extreme.  Calls  must  be 
paid  in  the  hottest  hours  of 
the  day,  when,  moreover,  busy 
men  find  it  inconvenient  to 
leave  Court  and  office.  No 
doubt  this  is  in  order  to  make 
it  certain  that  when  a  man 
calls  he  really  means  it.  But 
the  youth  who  donned  a  dress 
suit  in  order  to  make  a  round 
of  visits  at  noon  was  thought 
to  carry  ceremony  to  excess. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  same  young 
man  who  appeared  on  the  deck 
of  a  liner  wearing  an  opera  hat, 
but  admitted  that  he  had  pro- 
bably made  himself  conspicuous 
as  this  was  not  a  very  "  dressy  " 
ship. 

Barataria  thrives  under  Brit- 
ish rule.  Before  our  coming, 
the  King,  a  feeble  scion  of  a 
mighty  race,  vainly  essayed 
to  control  a  turbulent,  high- 
spirited  nation.  Throats  were 
cut  almost  for  fun ;  plunder 
and  rapine  devastated  a  fertile 
land.  This  was  bad  for  the 
people  ;  it  was  worse  for  mis- 
sionaries ;  above  all,  it  pre- 
vented the  development  of  the 
country's  resources  by  British 
capital  and  hindered  the  enter- 
prise of  British  merchants. 
What  was  the  use  of  a  kingdom, 
how  full  soever  of  potential 
wealth,  where  crops  could  not 
be  garnered,  timber  could  not 
be  cut,  minerals  could  not  be 
won ;  where  people  were  in 


258 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Aug. 


such  straits  that  they  could  not 
afford  to  buy  the  barest  neces- 
saries from  Manchester  and 
Birmingham  ?  On  every  prin- 
ciple of  modern  economics,  such 
an  undeveloped  land  must  be 
taxed.  The  tax  imposed  was 
the  Governor  and  his  myrmi- 
dons. Thereafter  peace  reigned, 
and,  we  hope,  contentment.  In 
sad  sooth,  the  people  should 
have  been  far  happier,  sua  si 
bona  norint.  Unreasonably 
enough,  many  seemed  still  to 
hanker  after  their  own  princes 
and  the  happy-go-lucky  system 
of  old  time.  Nay,  it  was  one 
of  our  conquerors  who  gave 
the  toast,  "  A  fertile  country, 
a  docile  people,  and  by'r  Lady, 
a  parlous  Government."  But 
of  the  growth  of  material  pros- 
perity there  is  no  question. 
Santa  Maria  became  a  flourish- 
ing port.  Merchants  amassed 
princely  fortunes,  partly  by  ex- 
porting the  produce  of  teeming 
fields,  stately  forests,  and  opu- 
lent mines,  partly  by  providing 
the  natives  with  piece-goods, 
crockery,  and  ironware ;  in 
times  of  abundant  harvest, 
even  with  spring  -  mattresses 
and  gramophones. 

A  butterfly  race,  the  light- 
hearted  Baratarians,  clad  in 
raiment  of  many  colours  ;  vola- 
tile, unstable,  impulsive,  kindly, 
cruel ;  ready  to  laugh  at  a  primi- 
tive jest,  equally  prone  to  resent 
to  blood-letting  a  passing  slight. 
They  are  a  detached  people. 
Living  on  friendly  terms  with 
their  rulers  and  with  men  of 
other  creeds  and  nationalities, 
the  mass  of  the  country  folk, 
peasants  and  artisans,  yet  en- 


joy   their    simple    life,    hardly 
recognising  by  whom  they  are 
governed.    The  great  Governor- 
General    of    the   dominions    of 
which  Barataria  forms  a  part, 
at  whose  nod  even  Governors 
tremble,  was  paying  a  periodical 
visit.     He  had  been  in  Santa 
Maria  two  or  three  days,  amid 
salutes,  processions,  and  ban- 
nered    streets.      Preparations 
were  being  made  for  a  gaudy 
ceremony,    the    laying    of    a 
foundation-stone,  or  some  such 
function.    Came  along  a  Bara- 
tarian    of    humble    class,    and 
found  a  friend  busy  on  a  work 
of    decorative    art.      "  Hallo, 
what's  up  ?     Is  there  a  fune- 
ral !  "     (In  Barataria,   though 
not  exactly  an  occasion  of  re- 
joicing, a  funeral  is  celebrated 
with    much    pomp    and   noisy 
display.)       "No,    stupid,    the 
great  Lord  is  coming."    "  What 
Lord  ?  "  was  the  innocent  re- 
sponse.    It  is  on  record  that 
once   a   man  was   found   who 
had  never  heard  even  of  His 
Excellency    the    Governor,    a 
reprobate    state    of    ignorance 
hardly  to  be  imagined.     Thus 
are  the  loftiest  beings  in  the 
eyes  of  their  subjects — so  small 
as  to  be  invisible. 

Though  in  spirit  separated 
by  aeons  and  limitless  space 
from  all  European  ideals  and 
modes  of  thought,  the  Bara- 
tarian  must  be  initiated  into 
politics  and  taught  the  bless- 
ings of  constitutional,  particu- 
larly of  representative,  govern- 
ment. Some  are  so  fatuous  as 
to  think,  or  at  least  to  say, 
that  our  presence  and  sway 
are  justified  only  by  the  fulfil- 


1921.] 


Jottings  from  Baratana. 


259 


ment  of  our  mission  to  begin 
and  complete  the  political  edu- 
cation of  this  childlike  people. 
So  we  have  our  Legislative 
Council,  with  members,  some 
nominated,  some  elected,  rep- 
resenting the  Baratarian  popu- 
lace. They  make  a  goodly 
show,  handsome  and  finely- 
clad,  with  gracious,  courtly 
manners.  They  ask  questions, 
move  resolutions,  and  take  part 
in  debates  in  the  best  Parlia- 
mentary fashion.  Once  the 
great  heart  of  merchants  and 
landlords  was  stirred  by  a  pro- 
posal for  legislation,  a  Bill  to 
suppress  monopolies,  or  some 
such  seemingly  innocent  mea- 
sure. Strenuous  opposition 
arose,  and  meetings  were  held 
whereat  the  project  was  pas- 
sionately denounced.  Foremost 
among  the  orators  was  a  Bara- 
tarian merchant,  a  man  of 
more  than  usual  culture,  whose 
accomplishments  included  a 
passable  knowledge  of  English. 
Here,  as  elsewhere,  political 
differences  do  not  affect  private 
friendships  and  social  ameni- 
ties. On  the  day  after  a 
stormy  meeting  of  protest,  our 
merchant  paid  a  friendly  visit 
to  the  Governor.  In  the  course 
of  conversation  His  Excellency 
said,  "  So  you  don't  like  my 
Bill.  I  suppose  you  have 
studied  it  carefully  ?  "  A  some- 
what awkward  pause.  "  I  have 
read  some  of  it."  "  Not  even 
read  it  all  1  "  cried  the  scanda- 
lised potentate.  "  How  much 
have  you  read  f  "  "I  have 
read  the  preamble,"  came  the 
reluctant  admission,  and  the 
speaker  was  as  near  to  blushing 


as  the  swarthy  Baratarian  com- 
plexion permits,  though  he 
joined  in  the  laugh  at  his  ex- 
pense. Soon  afterwards  this 
amiable  but  ill-informed  agita- 
tor became  a  Member  of  Council. 
Even  against  himself  a  Bara- 
tarian appreciates  a  joke,  albeit 
of  a  mild  type.  One  set  in 
authority  was  approached  by  a 
candidate  for  some  small  post, 
who  desired  a  testimonial,  a 
yearning  common  to  unsophis- 
ticated folk.  In  answer  to  the 
objection  that  the  officer  knew 
nothing  about  him,  the  peti- 
tioner exclaimed,  "  Not  know 
me !  Why,  you  were  in  my 
village  last  year,  and  you  took 
refuge  in  my  house  from  a 
shower  of  rain  !  "  A  document 
was  accordingly  written  in 
these  terms  : — 

"  Mr  So-and-so  assures 
me  that  last  year  I  took 
shelter  in  his  house  from 
a  shower  of  rain.  I  have 
much  pleasure  in  certifying 
to  this  fact." 

Off  went  the  petitioner,  who 
had  no  English,  much  elated 
at  having  attained  his  desire. 
A  day  or  two  later  he  returned, 
laughing  heartily,  but  declaring 
that  this  certificate  would  not 
do.  He  got  another. 

The  young  of  the  Baratarian 
is  soft  and  brown  and  beau- 
tiful. You  shall  see  him  or  her 
gambolling  in  the  village  street 
clad  in  native  innocence  ;  or 
you  may  meet  a  solemn  dark- 
eyed  baby  walking  in  a  deluge 
of  rain  shielding  a  bare  shining 
body  with  an  umbrella,  her 
only  and  hardly  necessary  gar- 


260 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Aug. 


ment.  In  terror  of  a  buffalo, 
a  beast  whose  exterior  sem- 
blance does  not  belie  its  soul's 
ferocity,  you  may  be  rescued 
by  a  darling  of  a  pigmy  size, 
who  seizes  the  monster  by  the 
nose  and  drags  him  away  with 
shrill  objurgation.  Quick  and 
intelligent,  they  learn  English 
readily,  speak  it  without  a 
trace  of  accent,  and  write  it 
with  subtle  appreciation  of 
idiom.  It  was  a  Baratarian 
schoolboy  who,  invited  to  de- 
scribe his  favourite  game,  wrote, 
"  In  my  youth  I  loved  to  play 
at  marbles  ;  but  when  I  grew 
older  my  parents  forced  me  to 
don't  do  so.  So  I  forsook  that 
play."  It  was  not  in  Barataria, 
though  it  might  have  been, 
that  a  boy,  asked  to  place  the 
line — 

"  Story  !    God  bless  you  !  I  have  none 
to  tell,  sir," — 

wrote,  "  This  was  said  by 
Eobert  Olive  on  his  return  from 
India."  Whereof  the  ingenious 
incongruity  more  than  com- 
pensates the  want  of  accuracy. 
The  pure  gold  of  this  pleas- 
ant land  is  not  without  alloy. 
Among  disturbing  incidents  are 
somewhat  frequent  earthquakes. 
Though  so  far  we  have  been 
spared  serious  disaster,  both 
Port  Julian  and  Santa  Maria 
ace  often  shaken  in  a  manner 
to  flutter  the  hearts  of  the 
timid,  send  pinnacles  and  chim- 
ney-pots a-flying,  and  drive 
many  to  refuge  in  tents,  out- 
houses, carriages,  and  boats, 
as  opportunity  or  inclination 
directs.  One  earthquake  dis- 
mantled the  loftiest  minaret  of 


a  famous  pagan  shrine,  but 
with  strict  impartiality  also 
split  the  spire  of  the  town 
church.  A  really  terrifying 
experience  was  that  of  some 
who  were  caught  in  the  deep 
recesses  of  a  cave,  hundreds  of 
feet  below  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  and  found  roof  and 
stalactites  falling  about  their 
ears.  By  the  mercy  of  Pro- 
vidence no  harm  resulted. 
Hardly  anything  has  so  dis- 
turbing an  effect  on  the 
mind.  On  the  last  occasion, 
a  lady  was  seen  distraught 
in  her  garden  clasping  in  her 
arms  a  large  water-jug.  She 
had  been  impelled  to  save  some 
precious  possession  from  the 
coming  cataclysm ;  and  this 
was  what  first  came  to  hand. 
In  chaste  and  temperate 
Barataria,  if  there  is  one  thing 
that  we  hate  with  a  more 
deadly  hatred  than  anything 
else,  it  is  opium.  To  save  a 
guileless  people  from  corrup- 
tion by  this  noxious  but  alluring 
drug,  reams  of  rules,  uncounted 
schemes,  have  been  devised, 
armies  of  preventive  officers 
enli sted.  All  <  opium  allowed 
for  use  is  sold  at  a  high  price 
from  Government  stores.  Need- 
less to  say,  opium  smuggling 
became  at  once  a  fine  art  and 
a  lucrative  profession,  for  in 
remote  places  where  grew  the 
regal  red  poppies  (they  are 
really  white),  opium  could  be 
bought  for  a  song.  Even 
custodians  of  public  virtue 
were  sometimes  believed  to  be 
in  league  with  transgressors. 
When  contraband  opium  was 
seized,  a  part,  usually  half,  of 


1921.] 


Jottings  from  Barataria. 


261 


the  value  at  Government  price 
was  paid  to  the  person  effecting 
the  seizure.  Many  years  ago, 
one  energetic  and  astute  officer 
made  frequent  hauls  of  illicit 
opium,  but  hardly  ever  had 
the  luck  to  capture  the  smug- 
glers. Great  bundles  of  the 
drug  would  be  produced,  but 
the  nimble  carriers  had  always 
managed  to  escape.  The  opium 
was  taken  into  store,  the  cus- 
tomary reward  paid,  and  the 
officer  commended  for  detec- 
tive acumen.  The  suspicion  is 
that  he  bought  the  opium 
cheap,  arranged  for  its  capture 
on  the  road,  and  made  a  hand- 
some profit  out  of  the  reward. 
No  one  was  any  the  worse. 
Government  got  the  opium  at 
half  price.  No  innocent  or  guilty 
person  was  punished  ;  nor  was 
the  quantity  of  opium  issued 
for  consumption  increased.  The 
operation  was,  however,  re- 
garded with  disfavour,  and  the 
game  was  spoilt  by  the  magis- 
trate who  withheld  the  reward 
unless  smugglers  were  arrested 
and  convicted.  It  was  rather 
too  expensive,  though  not  im- 
possible, to  pay  men  for  going 
to  prison. 


Upholding  the  excellent  prin- 
ciple that  our  base  must  be  on 
the  sea,  we  have  abandoned 
the  ancient  capital  in  the  hills 
and  have  substituted  Santa 
Maria,  a  gay  and  giddy  place, 
yet  strenuous  withal.  There 
we  all  work  hard  and  play 
hard,  setting  a  good  example 
to  the  frivolous  natives,  who 
take  toil  and  pastime  alike  in 
careless  fashion.  Every  game 
that  man,  rational  or  irrational, 
can  play,  finds  ardent  devotees 
in  this  distant  settlement  of 
our  race.  No  one  grows  old 
in  Barataria.  It  is  the  land  of 
perpetual  youth.  And  Santa 
Maria  is  its  culmination,  its 
quintessence.  The  climate  is 
hot  and  enervating,  yet  dancing 
is  practised  with  enthusiastic 
disregard  of  squandered  linen. 
Save  in  the  land  of  dancing 
dervishes,  never  was  the  art 
so  feverishly  pursued.  What 
impression  we  make  on  the 
Baratarians  one  hesitates  to 
say.  Long  ago  some  of  their 
elders,  invited  to  a  great  ball 
at  Government  House,  turned 
their  faces  to  the  wall  for  shame 
at  seeing  the  Governor  whirling 
in  a  waltz. 


262 


[Aug. 


FIGHT   FANS"— AND    "THE   FOUBTH." 


PAGET,  M.P.,  himself  —  or 
even  a  modern  political  Colum- 
bus— might  feel  some  diffidence 
in  writing  about  New  York  on 
the  strength  of  three  days' 
experience. 

But  2nd  July  and  4th  July 
are  two  of  these^  three  days, 
and,  at  least, "there  shall  be 
no  mention  of  Anglo-American 
relations  or  the  height  of  the 
Woolworth  building. 

As  soon  "as  we  landed  from 
the  Aquitania  on  Friday  night 
we  found  that  "  The  Fight  " 
was  the  one  topic  of  conversa- 
tion. 

Policemen,  "  cops  "  rather, 
porters,  taxi-drivers,  customs 
officials  were  full  of  it,  and  the 
city,  they  told  us,  was  full  of 
"  fans." 

Only  the  strong  silent  men 
who  throw  one's  luggage  down 
a  chute  had  no  time  for  dis- 
cussion, doubtless  fearing  that 
somebody's  grip  might  escape 
them  if  they  relaxed,  and  pass 
undamaged,  and  their  profes- 
sional reputation  be  jeopar- 
dised. 

But  although  every  one  was 
talking  of  the  fight,  and  the 
evening  papers  devoted  col- 
umns to  the  confidence  of  both 
men,  and  the  fact  that  Dempsey 
had  passed  the  afternoon  in  a 
"  limbering-up  hike,"  we  found 
at  our  hotel  that  we  were 
considered  as  rather  intrepid 


adventurers  for  proposing  to 
go  to  it. 

"  An'  the  lady  too,"  said 
the  porter.  "  Well  now,  ain't 
she  got  the  nerf  !  " 

There  had  been  a  "  scare  " 
with  regard  to  counterfeit  tick- 
ets, thousands  of  which  were 
said  to  be  in  circulation,  and 
we  were  told  that  it  was  more 
than  likely  that  we  should 
find  people  in  our  seats  and 
have  to  start  a  private  fight 
of  our  own  to  eject  them. 

Presumably  there  was  some 
foundation  for  the  scare,  since 
three  people  who  arrived  at  the 
arena  and  found  their  tickets 
counterfeit  bought  others,  only 
to  discover  that  these  were 
bogus  too.  No  joke  at  £15 
or  so  apiece.  Which  perhaps 
explains  why  Jersey  City  offi- 
cials offering  genuine  tickets 
in  the  street  on  the  morning 
of  the  fight  [met  only  with 
derision. 

We  were  told  also  that  the 
crowds  would  be  impossible 
and  impassable,  and  that  we 
should  have  to  start  at 
dawn. 

Actually  we  started  at  noon 
(the  big  fight  was  timed  for 
three  o'clock)  and  got  over 
quite  comfortably,  partly  be- 
cause a  large  proportion  of  the 
crowd  were  already  on  "  Boyle's 
Thirty  Acres, ""and  partly  be- 
cause Americans  in  the  mass 


1921.] 


"  Fight  Fans  " — and  "  The  Fourth." 


263 


are  infinitely  more  amenable 
(and  more  intelligent)  than  an 
English  crowd- 
People  are  better  disciplined 
here,  because  they  discipline 
themselves.  They  "  pass  off 
the  car  quickly  "  without  being 
told  to  do  so,  and  without 
that  moment  of  hesitation  at 
the  door  of  the  car  or  lift 
which  is  so  maddening  in  a 
London  tube.  Also  they  are 
better  tempered  and  more 
polite. 

Arrived  at  Grove  Eoad,  New 
Jersey,  one  took  a  bus  "  All 
the  way  to  the  Big  Fight  for 
a  dime,"  and  then  walked  the 
last  few  hundred  yards. 

Every  Jew  in  New  York 
(and  there  is  a  large  number) 
appeared  to  be  there  busily 
selling  things  in  the  street — 
"  soft  "  drinks,  pea-nuts,  post- 
cards and  programmes,  binoc- 
ulars of  handsome  appearance 
at  25  cents  a  pair,  cigars, 
souvenirs,  tickets  and  "  hot- 
dogs,"  whatever  these  latter 
may  be. 

There  was  also  a  man  selling 
balloons  (or  offering  them  for 
sale),  but  one  felt  that  he  must 
be  a  Gentile.  Life  was  full 
enough  without  a  balloon. 

For  there  was  no  doubt 
about  the  way  to  the  Fight, 
and  any  one  who  had  an 
appointment  in  the  opposite 
direction  might  as  well  have 
given  it  up  and  gone  home. 
But  every  one  was  orderly 
and  good-tempered. 

One  has  not  to  be  here  long 
to  realise  that  there  is  some- 
thing to  be  said  in  favour  of 


Prohibition,  though  nothing 
ever  is. 

Enormous  placards  in  the 
streets  bore  the  words  :  "  Wel- 
come to  Jersey  City — Mayor 
Frank  Hague  "  ;  but  even  the 
Mayor's  welcome  would  hardly 
induce  one  to  revisit  those 
dismal  streets  and  squalid  tene- 
ment houses.  Strange  how 
infinitely  more  decayed  and 
decrepit  a  wooden  house  can 
look  than  any  other.  Witness 
Archangel. 

It  was  far  easier  to  get  in 
and  find  one's  seats  than  at 
Twickenham,  say,  on  the  day 
of  an  England  v.  Wales  match. 
The  organisation  was,  in- 
deed, as  nearly  perfect  as 
possible. 

Armies  of  police  and  ushers, 
places  of  adequate  size  for  the 
parking  of  cars,  dozens  of 
telephone  -  boxes,  sign  -  posts 
everywhere,  field-ambulances, 
hospitals,  and  a  special  lock-up 
under  Lieut.  Michael  A.  Martin, 
"  a  cosy  little  cage  with  accom- 
modation for  200  at  a  pinch. 
The  architecture  follows  the 
general  lines  of  the  Black 
Hole  of  Calcutta."  The  lock-up 
was  evidently  necessary,  for 
one  learns  that  Ike  Dorgan 
was  streeted  by  the  bulls  for 
trying  to  put  the  slug  on  a 
tourist. 

One  had  expected  an  enor- 
mous crowd,  and  pictured  the 
crowd  at  a  Cup  Final.  But 
the  essential  difference,  which 
made  any  Cup  Final  crowd 
seem  insignificant  in  compari- 
son with  this,  was  the  tiny 
square  in  the  centre  of  that 


264 


Fight  Fans  "—and  "  The  Fourth." 


[Aug. 


vast  bowl,  on  which  those 
ninety  thousand  pairs  of  eyes 
were  fixed. 

The  size  of  a  football  field 
gives  proportion  and  balance 
between  spectacle  and  spec- 
tators. Here  things  seemed 
out  of  focus,  and  one's  first 
feeling  at  sight  of  the  ring 
was  one  of  disappointment, 
quite  unreasoning  but  quite 
unmistakable,  as  though  one 
had  been  brought  in  under 
false  pretences,  having  been 
promised  a  ring  ten  times 
the  size  and  giants  to  fight 
in  it. 

Most  of  the  seats  were  already 
full  when  we  arrived :  rather 
more  than  full,  for  the  space 
allowed  for  each  person  was 
the  minimum  into  which  the 
human  form  can  be  compressed. 

The  arena  seemed  a  sea  of 
pale  yellow,  which  one  sud- 
denly realised  was  composed 
of  the  straw  hats  of  the  crowd. 
Every  American,  without  ex- 
ception, wears  a  straw  hat, 
and  the  Presidents  of  Straw 
Hat  Corporations  presumably 
live  on  Riverside  Drive  (where 
one  pays  £10,000  a  year  for  a 
flat)  and  come  up  to  business 
in  their  yachts. 

The  gates  had  opened  at 
8  A.M.,  and  thereafter  "  the 
lumber-yard  started  to  fill  up 
slowly  like  a  dish-pan  under 
a  busted  sink.  Amongst  those 
present  in  the  jitney-perches 
was  an  Altoona  barber  with 
his  last  dime  tip  still  warm  in 
his  pocket." 

There  was  also  a  man  who 
had  gone  without  food  for  a 


number  of  days  in  order  to 
raise  the  price  of  a  ticket, 
and  collapsed  and  was  taken 
to  hospital  during  the  pre- 
liminary bouts ;  another  in 
the  ten-dollar  seats  who  sud- 
denly went  mad,  and  caused 
some  excitement ;  and  Miss 
Jocelyn,  a  beautiful  film  actress, 
who  announced,  after  the  fight, 
that  she  was  prepared  to  marry 
Dempsey  either  that  evening 
or  the  next,  as  he  might  prefer. 

Then  there  was  "  the  fan 
with  a  pillow  in  one  hand  and 
a  pair  of  field-glasses,  a  Renais- 
sance raincoat,  and  a  hot-dog 
in  the  other." 

"  They  say  George  has  won- 
derful legs,"  he  remarked.  "  I 
wonder  if  I've  done  right  fork- 
ing out  five  bucks  when  I 
could  have  got  a  seat  in  the 
front  row  at  Ziegfeld's  Follies 
for  the  same." 

Many  women,  too;  amongst 
themTto  be  recognised  "  the 
Jane  attending  her  first  fight 
by  the  way  she  clutched  her 
escort's  arm  every  time  a  mean 
punch  was  swung  and  felt  of 
her  Marcel  wave." 

Also  Mr  Tex  Rickard,  the 
promoter,  though  he  is  under- 
stood to  have  got  in  with 
difficulty,  having  been  told : 
"  G'wan  away  and  beat  it : 
you're  the  fifth  Tex  Rickard 
we've  had  this  morning." 

Then  Mr  Eugene  Corri,  in  a 
grey  top-hat,  which  caused  a 
sensation  ;  "  Pompadour  Jim  " 
Corbett ;  "  Wild  Bill  "  Phelon  ; 
Freddie  Welsh  ;  Battling  Nel- 
son of  Chicago ;  David  Bel- 
asco  ;  John  Ringling,  the  circus 


1921.] 


Fight  Fans  "—and  "  The  Fourth." 


265 


man,  wearing  his  classic  dia- 
mond slightly  larger  than  an 
egg ;  and  many  other  nota- 
bilities. 

King  George  Fifth  of  Eng- 
land was  understood  to  have 
his  ear  glued  to  his  private 
ticker. 

Preliminary  bouts  were  in 
progress  when  we  arrived,  but 
we  were  too  excited  in  antici- 
pation and  too  interested  in  the 
crowd  to  pay  much  attention 
to  them. 

It  was  early  decided  in  our 
neighbourhood  that  we  should 
all  see  better  if  hats  were 
removed.  There,  in  England, 
it  would  have  ended.  Here, 
however,  immediate  action  was 
taken,  and  choruses  were  com- 
menced. 

"  Take  it  off,  bo,  and  show 
your  curly  locks." 

"  Come  on  that  guy.  We 
don't  mind  if  your  bean  is 
bald." 

"  Take  it  off,  and  tie  your 
ears  back." 

"  Only  one  more.  Take  it 
off,  Sheriff;  we're  all  sheriffs 
here." 

These  were  popular  in  our 
quarter.  The  arrival  of  Gover- 
nor Edwards  created  a  small 
diversion.  He  came  in  state, 
though,  unfortunately,  the 
effect  was  marred  by  the  fact 
that  the  band,  which  should 
have  played  "  Hail  to  the 
Chief,"  struck  up  "My  Baby's 
Eyes." 

It  was  now  getting  on  to- 
wards three  o'clock,  and  the 
crowd  was  growing  impatient. 
The  performance  of  two  very 


indifferent  heavyweights  did 
nothing  to  amuse  them. 

"  Throw  in  the  sponge,"  said 
some  one. 

"  Throw  in  a  couple  of 
fighters,"  said  his  neighbour. 

"  G'wan,  hit  him  in  the 
foot ;  you  haven't  hit  him  in 
the  foot  yet." 

"  He's  hit  him  with  every- 
thing except  the  kitchen-range." 

"  Ah  !  quit  toying  with  your 
boy  friend."  And  so  on,  until 
Soldier  Jones  sung  the  "  Sol- 
dier's Farewell,"  and  the  field 
was  clear  for  the  big  fight. 

What  of  the  Big  Fight ! 

It  has  been  "  covered  "  by 
the  sporting  writers  of  nearly 
every  paper  in  the  world. 
Thousands  of  columns  must 
have  emanated  from  the 
"  United  Press  Camp,"  where 
the  "  specials  "  sat  with  their 
stenographer  alongside  them, 
taking  down  from  dictation, 
and  their  telegraphists  de- 
spatching the  "  copy  "  as  it 
was  written. 

But  who  shall  describe  the 
nervous  strain  of  the  wait 
during  the  seemingly  endless 
preliminaries,  the  thrill  that 
ran  through  that  great  crowd 
as  Carpentier  and  Dempsey 
stepped  into  the  ring,  the 
quivering  tension  as  they  left 
their  corners,  or,  above  and 
beyond  all,  that  wonderful  mo- 
ment in  the  second  round  when 
it  seemed  as  though  Carpentier 
might  achieve  the  impossible, 
when  the  champion  swayed — 
tottered,  shook  himself,  was 
so  nearly  out,  and  then  came 
again  1  That  moment  that 


266 


Fight  Fans  " — and  "  The  Fourth." 


[Aug. 


pulled  every  one  of  the  ninety 
thousand  to  their  feet. 

"  That  round  alone  was  worth 
my  fifty  dollars,"  said  some 
one.  And  so  it  was,  for  those 
who  did  not  half  regret  having 
come. 

For,  in  its  way,  it  was 
Tragedy.  Even  from  the  start, 
when  one  saw  Carpentier  sit- 
ting alone  in  his  corner,  a 
pathetic  figure  somehow,  and 
then  looked  across  to  Dempsey, 
black  and  scowling,  a  week's 
growth  of  beard  on  his  face, 
it  was  obvious  that  it  was  a 
forlorn  hope — David  and  Go- 
liath again. 

"  For  the  historian  of  that  fight 
Had  not  the  heart  to  tell  it  right  .  .  ." 

But  surely  never  was  a  forlorn 
hope  more  gallantly  fought. 

Then,  under  the  weight  of 
those  terrible  body-blows,  Car- 
pentier's  strength  failed  him, 
as  he  was  flung  like  a  leaf 
about  the  ring.  Came  the 
inevitable  end,  and  we  felt 
that  we  wanted  to  go  away 


quickly  and  quietly,  felt  as 
one  feels  when  the  final  curtain 
falls  on  '  Pagliacci.' 

Not  so  Mr  Bugs  Baer.  Let 
him  describe  it. 

"  It  was  a  terrific  crack  that 
played  taps  for  Georges.  A 
non-resident  expression  came 
over  his  face,  and  he  dropped 
like  a  sick  mule's  ear. 

"  Lovely  sick  dolls  from  Long 
Island  estates  gasped  in  per- 
fumed horror  as  the  handsome 
immigrant  folded  up  like  a 
violin  stand. 

"  The  ring  was  padded  with 
imported  sofa  spinach.  The 
canvas  was  made  by  Newark 
silkworms.  Nothing  was  lack- 
ing to  make  Carpentier's  nap 
an  enjoyable  one. 

"  The  fight  proves  that  good- 
looking  gents  should  go  into 
the  movies,  and  leave  fight- 
ing to  the  boys  with  leather 
necks." 

Another  point  of  view. 

But,  at  any  rate,  a  great 
fight  to  have  seen :  a  great 
day,  2nd  July. 


n. 


In  New  York  one  feels  rather 
that  one  is  in  a  different  world 
than  a  different  country — the 
world  of  Wells'  '  When  the 
Sleeper  Wakes.' 

And  on  4th  July  one  feels 
that,  in  spite  of  the  similarity 
of  language,  one  is  in  the  midst 
of  a  people  extraordinarily  dif- 
ferent to  ourselves. 

What  power  could  persuade 
the  English  middle-class  house- 


holder, to  say  nothing  of  his 
fat,  middle-class,  middle-aged 
wife,  to  march  in"  procession 
through  the  streets  for  hours, 
carrying  a  little  Union  Jack 
over  his  shoulder  ? 

Least  of  all  on  a  day  such 
as  to-day,  when  it  is  too  hot 
almost  to  watch  other  people 
walking. 

To  our  infinite  regret  we 
missed  the  Sinn  Fein  parade 


1921.] 


Fight  Fans  "—and  "  The  Fourth" 


267 


in  the  morning,  but  after  lun- 
cheon at  the  Biltmore,  where 
we  had  sought  a  breath  of  cool 
air  in  the  roof-garden,  we  de- 
bouched on  to  5th  Avenue  at 
42nd  Street,  to  find  ourselves 
in  the  middle  of  the  Anti- 
Prohibition  parade. 

How  long  it  had  been  going 
on  then,  and  how  long  it  con- 
tinued after  the  heat  drove  us 
home,  I  do  not  know,  but  the 
miles  of  stolidly  marching  men 
and  women  were  evidence  of  a 
considerable  body  of  Anti- 
Pussyfoot  feeling  in  New  York. 

Each  ward  had  its  band,  its 
decorated  cars,  its  "  captains," 
its  matrons  in  white,  and  its 
banners — particularly  its  ban- 
ners. They  fascinated  us  those 
banners,  and  it  will  be  a  lasting 
regret  to  me  that  I  forgot  so 
many  of  them. 

Many  were  conventional 
enough — 

"  The  Volstead  Act  must 

go." 

"  Liberty — not  License." 
"  What    does    Bryan    get 

from     the     soft     drink    in- 
terests ?  " 

"  They  fought  for  Liberty 

—they  return  to— What  ?  " 
"  No  law  is  above  repeal. 

All  are  man-made." 

"  Soft  drink  manufacturers 

favour  Prohibition.    See  their 

300    per    cent    increase    in 

prices." 

"  Tyranny  in  the  name  of 

righteousness   is   the   basest 

of  all  tyranny." 

We  should  have  the  same 
sort  of  thing  in  England,  no 
doubt. 


But  when  the  Sleepy  Owls' 
Pleasure  Club  came  by  with, 
"  Only  a  mother  could  love  a 
Prohibitionist's  face,"  we  began 
to  think  that  we  would  stay 
and  watch  a  little  longer. 

We  were  rewarded. 

"  This  is  a  free  country. 
Drink  water,  you  poor  fish," 
said  the  Lodas  Fishing  Club. 

"  A  nation  too  cowardly  to 
drink  is  on  the  Tobog  "  was 
followed  by  "Take  a  little 
wine  for  thy  stomach's  sake, 
says  St  Paul,"  and  "This 
country  is  suffering  from  dry- 
rot — sprinkle  it." 

"  Eussia  went  dry  in  1916  ; 
went  mad  in  1917.  How  ra- 
tional do  you  feel  yourself  ?  " 
inquired  the  Peter  C.  Hoch- 
dorffer  Association. 

Then  a  procession  of  lorries 
inscribed,  "  To  hell  with  whisky, 
give  us  beer,"  closely  followed 
by  Charles  Feldman's  Indians, 
preceded  by  a  camel,  and  more 
lorries  containing  large  men 
with  megaphones  singing 
"  Frankie  —  America's  latest 
song  hit  for  good  fellows,  sweet- 
hearts, and  mothers." 

"  Our  fourfathers  made  the 
American  constootion,"  asserted 
the  Polish- American  contingent 
with  doubtful  accuracy,  and 
the  employees  of  Mouquin  the 
restaurant  man  trolled  a  French 
song  as  they  trudged  along. 

"  We're  citizens  —  not  in- 
mates," was  another  sign ;  next 
to  one  which  read,  "  Laws 
which  require  an  army  of  paid 
sneaks  to  enforce  them  have 
no  place  in  a  free  common- 
wealth." 


268 


Fight  Fans  " — and  "  The  Fourth." 


[Aug. 


One  car  contained  a  large 
Statue  of  Liberty  in  chains, 
another  a  picture  of  the  mar- 
riage-feast of  Cana,  and  a  third 
a  gentleman  who,  Prohibition 
or  no  Prohibition,  had  man- 
aged to  get  it  somewhere.  He 
was  of  doubtful  advertising 
value  to  his  cause  and  the 
American  Liberty  League. 

Prominent  amongst  other  de- 
monstrators were  the  House- 
Wreckers'  Union,  the  Jolly  Owls 
and  the  Lady  Owls,  the  Eiggers' 
Lodge,  the  Garibaldi  Veterans, 
the  Consolidated  Bowling  Club, 
the  Original  Nut  Club  of  York- 
ville,  and  the  White  Eats 
Actors'  Union. 

All    with    their    banners    of 


varying  degrees  of  merit.  "  This 
picture  would  have  been  better 
if  the  artist  had  had  beer," 
said  one  candidly. 

"  Greenwich  village  wants  a 
drink — have  a  heart !  "  was 
pathetic, — but  it  was  all  in- 
teresting. The  more  so  be- 
cause one  feels  that  it  will 
never  happen  again.  It  is  a 
last,  expiring,  pitiful  protest. 

For  Prohibition  has  come  to 
stay. 

Its  advocates  have  only  to 
organise  a  procession  of  chil- 
dren to  touch  the  great  heart 
of  the  American  people — that 
great  sentimental  heart  to  which 
surface  appeals  are  so  easy. 
DESMOND  YOUNG. 


1921.] 


269 


AS  BEFITS  MY  POSITION.— III. 


BY  MRS   SAMUEL  PEPYS. 


(BEING  EXTRACTS  FROM  HER  DIARY.) 


Dec.  4*fc,  1665.— Home  to 
our  house  in  Seething  Lane 
after  being  six  months  away 
for  fear  of  the  Plague,  which 
is  now,  God  be  thanked,  very 
much  lessened,  and  quite  gone 
from  our  part.  'Tis  dreadful 
to  see  what  a  desolation  that 
Greate  Plague  hath  wrought. 
So  many  houses  shut  up,  with 
the  red  crosses,  and  "  Lord, 
have  mercy  on  us  "  writ  on 
the  doors  which  none  have 
been  concerned  to  rub  off 
again,  and  the  shops  mostly 
closed,  and  no  gay  people 
about,  nor  nothing  doing  ;  men, 
all  that  there  be,  thinking  of 
nothing  else  but  to  learn  who 
among  their  servants  and  ac- 
quaintance is  still  left  alive. 
And  here  we  note  a  strange 
thing,  that  whereas  formerly 
there  was  grief  and  surprise 
at  hearing  that  such  an  one 
was  dead,  or  had  lost  wife  or 
child,  now  that  will  pass  almost 
un-noticed  ;  but  if  one  is  found 
alive,  and  not  to  have  suffered 
at  all  in  his  family,  there  is 
joy  and  rejoicing.  Nor  is  the 
danger  over,  for  there  be  many 
deaths  from  Plague  every  week. 
And  'tis  clear  that  in  all  those 
mean  streets  where  the  Plague 
was  worst,  and  least  con- 
trolled, the  poor  folk  have  sure- 
ly kept  their  infected  things, 


and  also,  as  is  well  known, 
things  stolen,  or  kept  from 
destruction,  out  of  better  houses 
and  even  off  the  bodies  of  the 
dead.  For  the  poor  and  igno- 
rant, having  no  knowledge,  have 
no  reasoned  fear,  but  only 
panic,  or  else  fool-hardiness. 

Lord's  Day. — To  Church  with 
my  husband,  the  first  time  in 
our  own  Church  since  I  left 
London — my  husband  mighty 
discomfortable  at  seeing  the 
Churchyard  through  which  we 
must  pass  so  high  piled  up 
with  hastily  made  graves  ;  and 
indeed  resolved  to  go  there  no 
more  till  something  be  done. 
Eather  will  we  go  to  that 
Church  where  the  old  clergy- 
man did  tend  those  of  his 
congregation  who  were  Plague- 
stricken,  and  who  would  not 
carry  the  infection  to  their 
homes.  For  that,  men  say, 
hath  been  all  new  white- washed 
with  three  coats,  and  all  the 
wood  work,  such  as  could  not 
be  white-washed,  newly  and 
thickly  painted,  and  the  church 
yard  well  covered  with  lime  ; 
so  that,  men  say,  it  is  now 
the  safest  Church  to  go  to, 
for  that  also,  it  having  been 
in  such  constant  use,  fewer 
people  were  buried  under  the 
floor,  and  those  whose  right 


270 


As  Befits  my  Position. — III. 


[Aug. 


there-to  could  not  be  gain- 
said, thoroughly  well  covered 
up  with  lime. 

Lady  Batten  do  tell  me  she 
has  it  from  her  husband  that 
Prince  Eupert  who  is  a  man 
of  great  understanding  pro- 
tests that  our  Church  is  greatly 
mistaken  to  have  left  off  the 
use  of  incense,  that  being  such 
a  clean  smell  and  of  great 
virtue  to  purify  the  air,  as  was 
well  known  to  the  ancients. 
For  that  cause  also,  he  said, 
it  was  ordained  by  God  Al- 
mighty to  be  used  in  the 
Temple  of  the  Jews.  But  I 
think  him  to  be  a  prophane 
man,  and  wholly  unversed  in 
the  temper  of  men's  minds 
concerning  matters  of  religion, 
being  given  over  to  Science. 

The  City  now  near  as  full 
of  people  as  before,  but  the 
better  parts  of  the  town  still 
empty,  and  the  streets  full  of 
grass.  'Tis  true  those  grand 
streets  be  so  muddy,  the  cobble 
stones  so  ill-laid  and  worn 
into  such  great  deep  muddy 
holes,  that  grass  do  grow  there 
as  fast  as  ill  weeds  in  a  garden. 

Our  nice  little  good  sausage 
maker,  that  was  tucked  away 
in  a  corner  of  St  Paul's  Church- 
yard that  few  did  know  of,  and 
that  was  called  dead  of  the 
Plague,  is  come  back,  having 
merely  gone  into  the  country 
to  escape  from  it.  I,  thinking 
sadly  of  her  as  I  passed  by, 
and  finding  her  shop  open,  and 
she  sitting  at  her  door,  all 
alive  and  smiling,  was  mighty 
pleased,  and  did  buy  of  her ; 


but  find  the  sausages  not  so 
good  as  before. 

This  day  a  gentleman  back 
from  Portugall,  whose  name  I 
have  forgot,  said  he  had  there 
met  an  old  sea  captain  who  told 
him  that,  having  once  lost  his 
way  on  the  high  seas,  he  came 
to  a  desert  island  ;  and  going 
on  shore  to  seek  water  and  fresh 
food,  did  see  what  he  took  to 
be  a  wild  goat  among  the 
rocks,  and  did  shoot  the  same. 
But  the  creature,  being  only 
wounded,  got  away,  and  he 
after  it,  into  the  thickets,  and 
when  he  was  near  come  up  to 
it  and  was  about  to  shoot 
again,  that  same  creature  did 
call  out  to  him  by  his  name  ; 
the  which,  when  he  heard  it, 
did  make  him  fair  swoon  for 
fear.  And  that,  when  he  came 
back  to  himself,  there  was 
that  Creature,  squat  quite  close 
to  him,  and  did  say  in  good 
Portugueese,  that  it  was  his 
brother,  that  had  set  out  in  a 
ship  for  Cathay  twenty  years 
agone,  and  was  never  since 
heard  of,  nor  any  of  his  ship- 
mates. And  that  the  poor 
Creature  did  die  there  of  his 
wounds,  and  that  he  did  give 
him  Xtian  burial,  though  the 
sailors  that  were  with  him  in 
the  ship  were  for  bringing 
home  his  skin  for  a  curiosity, 
it  being  so  entirely  covered  with 
long  thick  hair,  as  no  man  had 
ever  seen  the  like. 

This  day  a  great  dinner  at 
Sir  William  Pen's,  with  much 
good  talk,  and  good  meat  and 
drink.  And  I,  finding  myself 


1921.] 


As  Befits  my  Position. — III. 


271 


in  a  good  vein,  did  tell  many 
storys  both  gay  and  strange, 
for  the  which  I  thinke,  without 
vanity,  I  have  some  small 
talent.  And  my  husband  did 
put  me  in  a  great  anger,  for 
that  he  called  out  to  me  across 
the  table,  before  all  the  com- 
pany, that  what  I  said  was 
not  true.  To  which  a  gallant 
gentleman  made  answer  that 
fair  lady's  speech  is  meant 
but  to  charm  and  please  :  and 
furthermore,  said  he,  to  speake 
truth  is  cleane  beyond  all  our 
powers,  for  that  Truth  being 
a  Jewell  at  the  bottom  of  a 
well  no  man  may  come  at  it, 
though  he  dredge  with  what 
bucket  he  please.  To  which 
my  husband,  being  obstinate 
to  prove  me  wrong  did  main- 
tain that  he  spoke  not  of  witty 
quips  nor  yet  of  speech  with 
intent  to  deceive,  which  said 
he,  we  of  the  public  service  do 
have  intimate  knowledge  of, 
but  that  he  blames  one  who  will 
collect  and  repeat  all  manner 
of  tales  which  do  seem  to  be 
reliable  facts,  had  on  good 
authority,  but  which,  when 
told  to  persons  of  intelligence 
are  seen  to  be  fables,  without 
any  wit  to  redeem  them.  To 
which  I  made  answer,  being 
angered,  without  more  ado, 
saying  that  'tis  not  I  alone 
that  do  tell  facts  which  seem 
to  be  reliable  and  do  then  turn 
out  to  be  fables.  For,  said  I,  did 
not  he  himself  come  home  to 
me  some  nights  agone,  with  a 
tale  how  that  some  of  his 
friends,  he  being  by  at  the 
time,  did  take  2  poor  dogs  and 


did  change  all  the  blood  out 
of  the  one  into  the  other,  so 
that  neither  of  them  had  his 
own  blood,  but  each  the  blood 
of  the  other  dog ;  and  that 
they  did  then  both  run  away, 
and  lived  as  before.  Which 
must  clearly  have  been  a  fable  ; 
and  therewith  all  those  at 
table  with  us  did  agree.  But 
my  husband  maintained  the 
truth  of  his  story,  saying  that 
learned  gentlemen  of  the  Eoyal 
Society  to  which  he  had  the 
honour  to  belong  did  indeed 
do  many  strange  things  but 
did  not  ordinarily  lend  them- 
selves to  the  spreading  of  fables. 
Then,  one  did  say  that  he  had 
seen  at  Gresham  College  a 
bone,  said  to  be  taken  out  of 
a  mermaid's  head  :  but  that, 
as  all  did  agree,  might  well  be 
true,  there  being  no  evidence 
of  common  sense  or  knowledge 
to  prove  it  false.  Eather  is  it 
a  known  thing  among  persons 
of  any  education,  that  the  world 
is  full  of  strange  creatures  and 
wonderful  happenings,  for  which 
there  is  no  explanation  found 
nor  indeed  ever  likely  to  be 
found.  So  that  nothing  can 
be  proclaimed  untrue  except 
those  simple  things  concerning 
which  we  have  the  evidence  of 
our  own  senses,  for  or  against. 

Last  night  again  I  did  fall 
out  with  my  husband,  for  that, 
coming  back  in  the  coach 
after  a  long  day's  pleasuring, 
I  thinking  to  while  away  the 
time,  did  discourse  to  him  of 
my  deare  romance  Great  Cyrus, 
newly  done  into  English  from 


272 


As  Befits  my  Position. — III. 


[Aug. 


the  French,  and  indeed  a  most 
notable  work,  full  of  romance 
and  all  delights  on  which  my 
mind  doth  dwell  with  a  sort 
of  exstasy.  The  which,  alas, 
my  husband  did  not  share, 
for  he  presently  did  call  out 
roughly  to  me  to  desist  from 
that  maundering,  saying,  that 
he  hoped  never  this  side  of 
Judgment  Day  to  hear  so 
much  again  of  such  silly  non- 
sense. 

Now  I  do  thinke  of  it,  'tis  a 
sad  and  somewhat  shameful 
thing,  the  way  we  do  bicker. 
After  all  my  great  pain  and 
feare  for  him  all  through  this 
late  time  of  plague,  my  love 
for  him  seeming  to  swallow  up 
all  other  earthly  cares,  'tis 
strange  indeed  that  now  I 
must  lash  him  with  my  tongue, 
willing  with  all  my  heart,  God 
forgive  me,  to  do  him  pain 
and  hurt.  Me  thinks  the  very 
grief  and  dread  I  was  in  for 
him  all  that  long  time,  with 
sleepless  nights  and  so  many 
alarms  and  tears,  hath  dried 
up  my  spirit,  so  that  I  do 
find  myself  hard  and  cold, 
and  much  given  to  grudging 
if  I  be  not  satisfied.  Also  it 
doth  vex  me  that  we  have 
always  these  threatenings  of 
a  new  outbreak  of  the  Plague, 
always  some  deaths  each  week, 
now  more,  now  lesse,  leaving 
us  no  peace  of  mind.  Nor  do 
I  think  it  is  always  my  fault ; 
for  he  is  also  cross-grained  and 
peevish.  Only  I  know  that 
he  hath  at  this  time  many 
cares,  though  at  this  moment 
he  do  seem  to  be  surely  estab- 


lished in  his  place,  and  able  to 
stand  securely  even  though 
my  lord  Sandwich  should  fall, 
as  is  not  unlikely,  he  poor  man 
having  slipped  mightily.  But 
my  husband  is  grown  to  have 
the  good  of  the  Navy,  nay 
even  of  the  State  itself,  almost 
more  at  heart  than  the  advance- 
ment of  his  private  fortune, 
which  surprises  me  much. 

Fell  out  again  with  my  hus- 
band last  night,  for  that  he 
sayd,  I  did  keepe  him  awake, 
wrangling  with  my  waiting- 
maid,  Mercer,  who  begins  to 
be  much  above  herself,  with 
the  notice  he  and  others  do 
take  of  her.  So  he,  railing  at 
me,  did  command  me  to  de- 
sist, and  I,  with  small  rever- 
ence for  my  wedded  husband, 
did  say  roundly  :  Hold  your 
tongue,  old  pepper-pot.  Where- 
at Mercer  did  snigger,  and  I 
did  box  her  ears,  albeit  much 
in  fear  that  my  husband  would 
presently  box  mine.  But  he 
waited  till  Mercer  was  away, 
which  indeed,  shows  his  noble- 
ness of  mind. 

So  I,  being  very  much  ruffled, 
did  sit  up  most  all  night  a- 
reading  of  my  Grand  Consola- 
tion, Great  Cyrus.  I  thinke 
it  will  supply  me  with  as  much 
happiness  as  a  paper  romance 
can  give,  for  very  many  years, 
there  being  of  it  twelve  mighty 
greate  and  thicke  volumes,  for 
all  which  I  do  thank  Mme- 
Scuderi. 

Lord's  Day. — To  our  own 
Church,  which  is  now  as  well 


1921.] 


As  Befits  my  Position. — III. 


273 


cleaned  up  and  made  healthy 
as  could  be  hoped  or  expected. 
My  family  still  smaller  than 
I  am  quite  pleased  with,  but 
my  husband  will  not  take  more 
servants  than  can  be  spared 
into  his  house  till  we  be  clear 
of  the  sicknesse  in  town,  they 
being  such  a  trouble  and  ex- 
pense when  they  fall  ill,  it 
being  always  to  be  expected 
that  they  should  have  the 
Plague,  though  it  may  in  the 
end  prove  to  be  but  a  head-ake, 
or  a  common  ague  fit.  But 
Lady  Batten  hath,  so  far  as 
I  can  judge,  fewer  maids  than 
I.  Only,  to  save  her  face,  she 
doth  come  alone  to  church 
with  her  husband,  taking  pains 
to  tell  us,  and  all,  that  she  do 
allow  her"  maids  to  worship 
when  and  how  they  will,  so 
they  be  not  catched  for  non- 
conformers. 

But,  what  pettiness  is  all 
this. 

My  husband  and  I  have  re- 
turned to  our  old  sport  of 
seeking  after  and  appraising 
beautiful  women.  I  do  find 
that  since  I  have  given  so 
much  of  my  time  to  drawing 
them,  for  which  all  agree  I 
have  an  excellent  disposition, 
I  am  much  more  sure  in  my 
judgment ;  being  able  to  dis- 
tinguish their  severall  beauties, 
their  just  proportions,  purity 
of  line  and  colour,  or  grace  of 
movement,  elegance,  strength, 
or  charm,  with  their  corre- 
sponding defects.  My  husband 
do  not  always  see  eye  to  eye 
with  me,  but  he  hath  more 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXX. 


respect  for  my  taste,  now  that 

1  have    learnt   the   fit   words 
where  with  to  justify  it.     One 
of  our  best  beauties  is  dead, 
poor  thinge  of  the  Plague,  and 

2  others  have  grown  old  and 
ugly  with  their  cares,  which  I 
am   sorry  for.     But  we   have 
discovered  two  fresh  ones  that 
have  come  on.     I  did  always 
say  that  one  of  them,  Sally, 
our  butcher's  daughter,  had  in 
her  the  makings  of  a  handsome 
woman,    though    gawky    and 
sallow  then,  but  the  other  I 
had   never   expected   to    have 
shaped  so  well. 

I  do  like  better  that  my  hus- 
band should  admire  beauties 
of  low  degree,  or  else  those 
much  too  far  above  him,  rather 
than  those  with  whom  he  may 
constantly  meet,  for  that,  with- 
out reading  too  much  evil  into 
his  courses,  it  irks  me  to  be 
slighted  in  public.  And  he  is 
one  that  hath  no  eyes  nor  eares 
for  any  other  if  he  do  but  find 
himself  in  the  company  of  his 
deare  beauty  Mrs  This,  or 
Mrs  That.  This  day  my  hus- 
band's aunt  Wight  come  to 
see  me,  and  brought  me  to 
see  Mrs  Margaret  Wight,  one 
of  the  beautifullest  women  that 
ever  I  did  see  in  my  life — 
the  most  excellent  nose  and 
mouth.  The  which  I  did  tell 
to  my  husband,  and  he  is  on 
thorns  till  he  can  see  her. 
Then  he  will  find  that  I  have 
greatly  over-valued  her,  for 
that  no  living  beauty  can  quite 
come  up  to  a  man's  imaginings, 
so  then  he  will  never  thinke 
her  as  lovely  as  if  he  had  dis- 


274 


As  Befits  my  Position. — III. 


[Aug. 


covered  her  for  himself.  But 
she  is  indeed  a  very  beautiful 
woman  and  one  that  I  like  to 
look  at.  Also  I  showed  her 
Mrs  B  atelier,  and  his  deare 
Mrs  Pierce  ;  and  she  sees  quite 
as  I  do,  that  Mrs  B.  is  the 
prettier  woman  by  far. 

Again  this  day,  I  had  a  great 
fray  with  my  husband,  he 
insisting  that  he  will  not  yield 
to  having  my  painting  master, 
Browne,  to  sit  at  table  with 
him,  nor  coming  so  tame  about 
the  house  ;  altho  he  did  admit 
freely  that  I  meant,  nor  did, 
no  harm.  But  God  knows 
where  we  should  have  ended, 
had  he  not  stopt  railing  ;  and 
did  say,  with  manly  straight- 
ness,  that  he  will  have  his  will 
done  without  disputing,  be  the 
reason  what  it  will.  The  which 
is  truly  his  right,  and  my 
bounden  duty,  and  so  I  hope, 
by  my  accepting  it,  to  give 
pause  to  our  squabbles. 

My  husband  tells  me  that 
this  day,  as  he  was  about  to 
go  over  London  Bridge,  he 
met  a  crowd,  with  a  small  girl 
of  8  years  or  less,  that  had 
been  seen  to  throw  her  baby 
brother  into  the  river.  The 
miserable  little  wretch  had,  he 
sayd,  a  most  wicked  face,  and 
did  say  without  shame,  that 
she  did  it  to  be  rid  of  the  child, 
because  it  did  inconvenience 
her,  and  she  wanted  it  to  be 
there  no  more.  And  that 
Punch  did  the  like  at  the  Faire, 
with  his  baby,  and  all  who  saw 
it  did  clap  their  hands  and 
laugh,  so  she  held  that  it  was 


a  thing  well  done.  So  she  was 
haled  before  the  Justices  ;  but 
he  thinks  they  will  do  nothing 
in  the  matter,  she  being  so 
yonge  and  smal,  and  the  fault, 
if  fault  there  be,  lying  rather 
with  the  Punch  and  Judy  man, 
that  had  taught  her  to  do  so. 

See  now  how  right  I  was 
about  the  telling  my  husband 
of  the  beauty  of  Mrs  Margaret 
Wight !  He  do  find  that  she 
hath  a  cast  of  one  eye,  and 
that  her  hands  are  bad  !  But 
he  do  admit  that  she  hath  the 
face  of  a  noble  Eoman  lady. 

This  day  come  the  news  that 
my  husband's  sister  Pall  that 
we  had  for  my  first  waiting 
maid,  is  safe  married  to  a  Mr 
Jackson.  The  poor  wench  hath 
been  spoken  of  for  so  many  ; 
some  not  being  in  good  enough 
state,  and  some  asking  too 
much  with  her,  and  some  not 
being  such  as  it  would  suit  my 
husband's  present  position  that 
he  should  at  this  moment  be 
so  openly  connected  with,  that 
in  the  end  I  had  lost  all  ex- 
pectation of  their  plans  coming 
to  anything.  My  husband  was 
beginning  to  be  much  troubled 
at  it,  to  get  her  provided  for, 
she  growing  more  and  more 
advanced  in  years,  and  be- 
ginning to  get  thicke  in  her 
person,  besides  having  such  a 
nasty  nature.  My  husband  and 
I  had  agreed  that  he  should 
give  £400  to  help  make  up  her 
dowry,  that  being  better,  to 
both  our  minds,  than  having 
her  a  charge  on  us  if  she  should 
fail  to  get  married. 


1921.] 


As  Befits  my  Position. — III. 


Lord's  Day.— To  Whitehall 
Chapel  with  my  husband,  and 
got  a  good  place,  but  was 
shamed  to  hear  him  sing  so 
loud,  that  many  did  turn  their 
heads  to  see  who  it  could  be, 
but  some-what  pacified  after- 
wards, when  all  did  say  how 
much  the  singing  was  improved 
by  his  being  there.  And  indeed 
he  hath  a  fine  voice.  A  good 
and  learned  sermon  on  See 
then  that  ye  walk  circum- 
spectly, not  as  fools  but  as 
wise,  redeeming  the  time  be- 
cause the  days  are  evil.  Who 
the  preacher  was  I  know  not, 
but  he  did  hit  out  roundly, 
pointing  out  what  fools  men 
be,  to  let  themselves  go  as 
they  do,  taking  no  care  to 
look  around  them.  And  then, 
the  King  not  being  Athere,  he 
did  tell  us  that  we  may  not 
shelter  ourselves  behind  the 
misdeeds  of  others,  saying  that 
if  men  in  high  place  did  well 
all  the  ills  of  the  country  would 
be  cured ;  for  that  'tis  we, 
the  bulk  of  the  people,  that  do 
shape  the  times,  even  as  the 
nature  of  the  kitchen-stuff  used 
do  make  the  dishe.  And  so, 
that  each  should  go  to  work 
with  a  good  heart,  to  keep 
himself  straight  in  a  good  path, 
and  firm  in  his  mind,  because 
the  days  be  evil. 

And  so  indeed  they  be,  with 
the  Dutch  and  all  other  nations 
so  eager  to  drive  us  off  the 
sea,  which  is  our  lawful  road, 
and  field  of  action ;  to  say 
nothing  of  troubles  at  home 
therelbeing  no  money  for  any 
needful  expense,  but  all  wasted 


and  frittered  away,  and  so 
much  bitterness  of  religious 
questions  that  'tis  doubtful, 
should  the  King  now  die,  and 
the  Duke  of  York  do  declare 
himself  a  Eoman  Catholic  as  is 
not  unlikely,  whether  we  be 
plunged  again  into  all  the  dis- 
tresses of  a  civil  war,  when 
the  French  would  surely  eat 
us  up  as  is  plainly  their  desire. 
All  of  which,  if  it  be,  or  be 
not,  in  the  hands  of  us,  the 
People  ;  is  at  least  in  the  good 
hand  of  God,  and  through  it 
may  He  be  pleased  to  guide  us 
safely. 

Restoration  Day,  29th  May 
1666. — Ringing  of  bells,  rejoic- 
ings, and  bonfires,  but  Lord, 
what  a  difference  from  the 
joyfulness  when  the  King  first 
come  back !  Indeed  on  our 
City  side  there  was  scarce  any 
rejoicing  at  all.  We  had  a 
joyful  and  pleasant  day.  My 
husband  having  come  well 
through  some  business  I  wot 
not  of  at  the  office  was  in  a 
gladsome  mood,  and  I  did  find 
and  send  word  to  him  that  I 
had  at  home,  a  truly  handsome 
and  beautiful  lady  the  hand- 
somest woman  in  England,  I 
did  tell  him,  and  so  he  came 
and  was  full  of  glee  to  find 
her  he  had  admired  so  long  in 
church,  the  pretty  lady  of  our 
parish  as  we  did  call  her,  only 
now  she  is  married.  Her  name 
is  Mrs  Horsley,  and  her  friend 
with  whom  she  came,  Mrs  Anne 
Jones.  So  then  we  all,  and 
Creed,  and  Mrs  Pierce  and 
some  more,  to  Foxhall,  to 


276  As  Befits  my  Position. — III.  [Aug. 

Spring  Gardens,  and  there  in  yard  noises,  till  my  husband, 

an   arbour,   did   have   a   right  falling  to  squealing  like  a  stuck 

joyful  and  merry  friendly  time,  pig,  there  did  come  so  many 

There  was  a  man  did  imitate  folk  from  all  around  to  see  what 

all  manner  of  birds  and  dogs,  pig  was  there  being  slaughtered 

hogs  and  calves,  with  his  voice,  where  no  pigs  were  known  to  be, 

and  we  did  all  take  it  up  with  that  we  all  desisted,  and  so  took 

many  and  very  well  done  farm-  coach,  and  soberly  departed. 


1921.] 


277 


MUSINGS   WITHOUT  METHOD. 

DEMPSEY'S  CHIN  AND  CARPENTIER'S  FIST  —  THE  VULGARISATION 
OF  SPORT — PEACE  WITH  ASSASSINS — A  TRUCE  OF  THE  DEVIL — 
'ASTARTE' — LORD  LOVELACE'S  INDISCRETION. 


last  few  weeks  England  has  been 
at  play  ;  she  has  concealed  her 
troubles,  if  indeed  she  is  con- 
scious of  them,  under  a  cloak 
of  levity.  When  the  coal- 
miners  threatened  the  pros- 
perity of  the  country,  she 
turned  her  thoughts  lightly  to 
the  battle  of  the  links.  When 
Mr  Lloyd  George  was  selling  her 
honour  to  Sinn  Fein,  she  hoped 
against  hope  that  she  might 
retain  at  least  a  pinch  of  the 
"  ashes."  And  before  all  things, 
she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
that  ^corner  of  America  where 
Carpentier  and  Dempsey  were 
fighting  for  the  championship. 
What  did  the  murder  gang  in 
Ireland  matter,  who  cared  for 
the  end  of  the  coal  strike, 
when  the  greatest  problem  of 
modern  times — which  was  the 
harder,  Dempsey's  chin  or  Car- 
pentier's  knuckles — was  being 
solved  in  the  presence  of  some 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  spec- 
tators ?  The  dithyrambics  of 
the  newspaper  proved  conclu- 
sively into  what  an  abyss  of 
carelessness  we  have  sunk.  As 
you  read'the  coloured  eloquence 
of  the  sporting  prophets,  as 
their  bellicose  metaphors  fell 
upon  your  ear,  you  could  not 
but  realise  that  the  Great  War 
was  but  a  mimic  struggle,  and 
that  the  heroic  battle  of  all 


long  since  a  traveller, 
visiting  these  shores  from  a  far 
country,  was  asked  to  give  his 
impression  of  England.  As 
might  have  been  expected,  it 
was  the  universal  supremacy 
of  sport  which  struck  him  most 
forcibly.  If  he  might  judge 
from  the  papers,  said  he,  and 
he  knew  not  how  else  to  judge, 
he  could  but  suppose  that 
England  had  gone  back  to  a 
second  childhood,  and  had  no 
thought  for  anything  save  for 
the  games  which  she  played 
and  watched.  Cricket,  golf, 
and  polo  competed  for  atten- 
tion in  the  public  prints  and 
in  the  common  talk.  These 
pastimes,  innocuous  in  them- 
selves, appeared  to  be  the 
whole  duty  of  man.  The  in- 
genuous traveller  read  in  what- 
ever journal  he  picked  up 
learned  dissertations  upon  this 
or  that  game,  written  with  a 
solemnity  of  style  and  purpose 
which  was  entirely  strange  to 
the  habit  or  experience  of  his 
own  native  land.  To  what  con- 
clusion, then,  could  he  come, 
other  than  the  conclusion  that 
England  at  this  crisis  of  her 
destiny  was  given  over  to  a 
light-hearted,  unthinking  fri- 
volity ? 

The  traveller,  of  course,  was 
in  the  right  of  it.    During  the 


278 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Aug. 


the   ages    was    fought   out   in 
New  Jersey. 

And  what  saddens  us  most 
profoundly  in  all  this  orgie  of 
sport  is  that  the  boxing  of 
to-day  is  solidly  established 
upon  the  basis  [of  money. 
In  .  New  Jersey  it  was  all  a 
matter  of  dollars.  We  were 
told  daily  how  many  thou- 
sands of  pounds  would  fall 
into  Dempsey's  pocket,  and 
what  would  bea  Carpentier's 
share  of  the  swag.  The  dis- 
tribution was  arranged  without 
regard  to  merit.  It  happened 
that  the  winner  did  claim  the 
larger  purse.  But  even  had 
Dempsey's  chin  succumbed  to 
Carpentier's  fist,Dempsey  would 
have  been  rewarded  by  the 
bigger  share  of  the  gate-money. 
And  the  hero  who  "  organised  " 
the  performance  carried  off  a 
far  fatter  bundle  of  greenbacks 
than  either  of  the  combatants  ; 
and  exulting  in  half  a  million 
dollars,  won  without  risk  to  life 
or  limb  or  pocket,  he  showed 
to  the  world  that  Dempsey 
and  Carpentier  were  but  in- 
struments in  a  vast  design  of 
money-making.  The  old  prize- 
ring,  which  was  an  intimate 
part  of  English  life,  may  have 
been  disturbed  by  the  trickery 
of  blackguards.  It  was  not 
disgraced  by  the  widely  adver- 
tised hunt  of  the  dollar;  and 
the  ring  of  to-day,  though  it 
will  last  as  long  as  the  middle- 
men find  profit  in  it,  cannot 
claim  the  crown  of  glory,  freely 
bestowed  upon  such  champions 
as  Painter  and  Oliver,  Bill 
Neate  and  the  Gasman,  Jack 


Eandall  and  Tom  Spring,  who 
were  content  to  fight  with  their 
raw  fists  for  £30  a  side. 

And  sport,  vulgarised  by 
money  and  advertisement,  is 
fast  losing  what  might  be  left 
it  of  gaiety  and  light-hearted- 
ness.  The  spirit  of  inter- 
nationalism, as  dangerous  in 
games  as  in  politics,  acts  upon 
it  like  a  poison.  It  is  not  mere 
delight  in  the  play  that  absorbs 
the  players.  They  regard  them- 
selves absurdly  as  the  up- 
holders of  the  national  honour. 
When  a  native  of  St  Andrews, 
settled  by  accident  in  the 
United  States,  wins  a  match 
of  golf,  we  are  told  that  the 
glory  is  departing  from  Britain. 
When  Japan  and  Spain,  South 
Africa  and  the  United  States, 
gain  easy  victories  over  our 
champions  at  lawn  tennis,  there 
are  those  who  instantly  pro- 
phesy the  downfall  of  the 
Empire.  It  reminds  us  of  the 
time  when  the  foolish  ones  of 
the  earth  clamoured  for  "  a 
white  hope."  You  may  not 
thus  superficially  transfer  the 
triumph  of  the  playing  fields 
to  the  sterner  triumphs  of  life 
and  art.  Professor  Seignobos, 
in  warning  his  students  the 
other  day  against  the  danger 
of  putting  a  wrong  value  upon 
certain  activities,  spoke  words 
true  and  seasonable.  It  is 
not  by  the  prowess  of  Georges 
Carpentier  that  France  is  to  be 
saved  from  the  storm  of  war  and 
the  stress  of  peace.  Carpentier 
may  well  be  the  blend  of  Sir 
Galahad  and  Isaac  Newton,  the 
mixture  of  chivalry  and  pure 


1921.] 


The  Vulgarisation  of  Sport. 


279 


thought  which  he  is  repre- 
sented to  be  by  the  public 
press.  But  since  he  has  chosen 
to  devote  his  strength  and  his 
intellect  to  the  art  of  scrap- 
ping, he  must  be  judged  by 
another  and  a  lower  standard 
than  that  which  is  applied  to 
generals,  statesmen  (if  they 
exist),  or  men  of  science. 
Thackeray  once  said  after  a 
famous  prize-fight  that  "  if  he 
were  absolute  king,  he  would 
send  Tom  Sayers  to  the  mill 
for  a  month,  and  make  him 
Sir  Thomas  on  coming  out  of 
Clerkenwell."  We  would  not 
go  so  far  as  to  urge  a 
heavy  punishment  for  pugil- 
ists. We  would  suggest  no 
more  than  that  they  should  be 
judged  by  their  skill  in  their 
own  craft,  and  not  compared 
with  the  gallant  saviours  of  the 
world.  From  what  we  know 
of  them,  we  judge  them  to  be 
deficient  in  humour.  There  is 
no  reason  why  we  too,  in  con- 
templating them,  should  lose 
hold  of  our  sense  of  proportion. 
Thus  the  sad  lesson  of  the 
Olympic  Games  has  been  rein- 
forced by  the  nonsense  lately 
poured  out  upon  international 
sport.  In  the  keen  rivalry 
that  has  been  felt  and  expressed, 
the  whole  purpose  of  sport, 
which  is  enjoyment,  has  been 
forgotten.  The  true  end  of 
sport,  which  is  the  game,  has 
been  subordinated  to  the  false 
end,  which  is  victory.  And  if 
this  confusion  be  permitted  to 
survive,  then  there  is  an  end 
of  sport  altogether.  The  play's 
the  thing  ;  and  if  we  honour 


the  winner  for  his  skill  and 
endurance,  we  need  not  confess 
that  winning  is  the  sole  reason 
for  competing  with  our  neigh- 
bours. If  once  we  confess 
this,  we  open  the  door  to 
every  kind  of  chicanery.  And 
we  would  rather  that  the  youth 
of  the  United  Kingdom  should 
disport  itself  contentedly  on 
its  village  greens  than  excite 
ill-will  and  resentment  upon 
the  field  of  international  strife. 
We  have  spent  the  summer 
in  games,  and  if  we  may  judge 
by  what  we  have  achieved  in 
the  field  of  politics,  perhaps 
we  were  wisely  guided.  In 
the  very  midst  of  our  tourneys 
we  sunk  lower  in  the  scale  of 
honour  and  decency  than  we 
have  ever  sunk  before.  For 
many  months  the  Irish  have 
been  engaged  in  a  vile  cam- 
paign of  murder,  arson,  and 
ambush.  They  have  assassi- 
nated English  soldiers  with  all 
the  vile  cruelty  and  contempt 
that  are  characteristic  of  them. 
While  Britons  have  been 
slaughtered  in  the  presence  of 
their  wives,  without  reason 
and  without  pretext,  an  Irish 
poet  has  been  found  base 
enough  to  assert  that  murder 
is  a  "  mystical  expression  of 
nationality."  We  do  not  know 
what  these  rascals  mean  by 
"  nationality."  Maybe  to  their 
deceived  minds  it  is  the  Spanish 
Jewry  of  Mr  Valera.  We  do 
know  what  murder  is,  and  we 
know  that  murder,  whatever 
it  expresses  mystically,  is  pun- 
ished only  by  the  gallows. 
Our  Government  has  appar- 


230 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Aug. 


ently  no  resentment  against 
murder,  arson,  or  kidnapping. 
It  forgets  that  its  first  duty 
is  to  impose  upon  the  United 
Kingdom  law  and  order.  It 
condones  the  cruellest  assassin- 
ations. The  pistol,  the  knife, 
and  the  bomb  are  used  with 
impunity  throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  of  southern  Ire- 
land. Little  or  no  punishment 
is  meted  out  to  the  murderers, 
who  are  encouraged  by  the 
inaction  or  impotence  of  the 
Government  to  walk  abroad 
unhindered.  And,  strange  as 
it  may  appear,  there  is  no 
indignation  expressed  against 
the  scoundrels  who  kill  and 
maim.  Whence  proceeds  this 
callousness  we  do  not  know. 
Maybe  the  Great  War  has 
made  our  miserable  politicians 
careless  of  bloodshed.  But 
we  believe  that  if  for  every 
Englishman  employed  by  the 
Cabinet  and  slaughtered  in 
Ireland  a  member  of  the  Gov- 
ernment was  strung  up,  we 
might  see  a  restoration  of  sane 
rule  and  decent  peace  across 
the  Channel. 

The  situation  of  cowardice, 
which  has  arisen  under  the  au- 
spices of  Mr  Lloyd  George,  has 
neither  warrant  nor  precedent 
in  the  past.  When  Cromwell 
went  to  Ireland,  he  understood 
precisely  the  problem  which 
confronted  him.  He  knew  that 
the  object  of  Ireland  was  bloody 
murder,  and  he  knew  also 
that  it  was  his  duty  to  punish 
the  murderers.  He  came  to 
Ireland,  said  he,  "  to  ask  for 
an  account  of  the  innocent 


blood  that  has  been  shed." 
After  the  slaughter  of  Drog- 
heda  he  wrote  with  perfect 
truth  :  "I  am  persuaded  that 
this  is  a  righteous  judgment  of 
God  upon  these  barbarous 
wretches  who  have  imbrued 
their  hands  in  so  much  inno- 
cent blood,  and  that  it  will 
tend  to  prevent  the  effusion 
of  blood  for  the  future,  which 
are  the  satisfactory  grounds  of 
such  actions,  which  otherwise 
cannot  but  work  remorse  and 
regret."  Even  when  Wexford 
was  sacked  and  butchered  un- 
intentionally, Cromwell,  being 
a  statesman,  perceived  the  good 
which  had  been  achieved. 
"  God,  by  an  unexpected  provi- 
dence," said  he,  "in  His  right- 
eous justice  brought  a  just 
judgment  upon  them,  causing 
them  to  become  a  prey  to  the 
soldiers  who  in  their  piracies 
had  made  preys  of  so  many 
families,  and  with  their 
bloods  to  answer  the  cruelties 
which  they  have  exercised  upon 
the  lives  of  divers  poor  Pro- 
testants." The  situation  in 
Ireland  to-day  differs  not  a 
jot  from  the  situation  in  Crom- 
well's Ireland.  "  Divers  poor 
Protestants "  are  slaughtered 
hourly.  But  the  Ireland  of 
then  differs  profoundly  from 
the  Ireland  of  now,  because 
now  we  have  no  defence  against 
the  murderer.  Mr  Lloyd  George 
is  not  a  Cromwell.  He  is  no 
single-minded  champion  of  jus- 
tice. He  fosters  votes  and 
waits  upon  opportunity  ;  and 
if  honest  men  are  slaughtered 
in  Ireland,  that,  he  thinks,  is 


1921.] 


Peace  with  Assassins. 


281 


no  fault  of  his.  Of  course, 
it  is  all  his  fault.  He  is  the 
autocratic  governor  of  these 
isles,  self-chosen,  self-elected ; 
and  every  drop  of  blood,  shed 
through  his  neglect,  rests  in- 
delibly upon  his  hands. 

Why  Mr  Lloyd  George  does 
not  check  bloodshed  in  Ireland 
we  do  not  know.  If  the  soldiers 
he  has  appointed  to  do  the 
work  are  inefficient,  then  he 
should  recall  them.  If  he  has 
declined  to  give  them  full 
powera,  then  their  powers 
should  be  instantly  enlarged. 
The  one  fact  patent  to  us  all 
is  that  loyal  subjects  are  mur- 
dered in  Ireland,  and  that 
nobody  is  punished  for  their 
murder.  This  one  fact  proves 
that  Mr  Lloyd  George  and  his 
colleagues  are  not  fit  to  hold 
the  places  which  are  theirs 
to-day.  If  he  is  helpless  to 
restore  law  and  order,  let  him 
give  way  to  those  who  can  do 
what  he  cannot  or  will  not  do. 
And  how,  if  he  condone  (or  is 
unable  to  punish)  murder  in 
Ireland,  shall  he  permit  a  capi- 
tal^sentence  to  be  passed  upon 
any  miscreant  who  does  another 
to  death  in  England  or  Scot- 
land ?  Suppose  a  British  citi- 
zen murders  his  grandmother 
or  his  wife  or  his  son  in  his  own 
country,  shall  he  be  asked  to 
mount  the  scaffold,  when  he 
might  have  accomplished  the 
same  deed  in  Ireland  with 
impunity,  if  not  with  honour  ? 
Justice  must  hold  the  scales 
even,  wherever  they  be  held, 
and  Mr  Lloyd  George  has  not 
only  failed  to  govern  Ireland, 


he  has  checked  the  due  exer- 
cise of  justice  throughout  the 
British  Empire. 

And  he  has  done  more  than 
this.  He  has  opened  negotia- 
tions with  the  murderers.  Mr 
Valera  and  his  friends  are  not 
men  with  whom  honourable 
men  can  parley.  Wherever 
the  United  Kingdom,  to  which 
they  owe  allegiance,  has  found 
an  enemy,  they  have  found  a 
friend.  When  Great  Britain 
was  at  war  with  Germany, 
they  thought  it  convenient  to 
conspire  and  to  rebel.  The 
memory  of  the  Easter  Eebel- 
lion,  when  many  innocent  Eng- 
lishmen were  killed  in  cold 
blood,  should  not  already  be 
obliterated ;  and  yet  here  is 
Mr  Lloyd  George  imploring  Mr 
Valera  to  meet  him  amicably 
in  London  !  The  most  of  the 
leaders  of  the  wicked  re- 
bellion, condemned  to  death, 
were  presently  pardoned  and 
patted  on  the  back  by  poli- 
ticians who  should  have  known 
better.  They  were  supplied  by 
the  Government,  which  they 
had  attempted  to  destroy,  with 
new  suits  of  clothes  ;  and  it  is 
not  surprising  that  they  re- 
turned to  Ireland  with  con- 
tempt in  their  hearts  for  those 
who  had  returned  good  for  evil 
with  so  monstrous  a  generos- 
ity. Instantly  they  took  ad- 
vantage of  England's  leniency 
to  organise  such  a  campaign  of 
murder  and  arson  as  cannot 
be  matched  in  the  annals  of 
history  outside  Ireland.  They 
have  shot  brave  men  in  the 
presence  of  their  wives  ;  they 


282 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Aug. 


have  kidnapped  harmless  old 
men  and  burned  their  houses. 
They  have  robbed  and  am- 
bushed and  assassinated.  In 
brief,  they  have  committed 
all  the  crimes  that  are  known 
to  justice,  and  they  have,  for 
the  most  part,  gone  unpunished. 
Nay,  more :  they  have  won 
the  profound  sympathy  of  the 
British  Eadicals ;  and  Mr 
Valera  and  Mr  Griffith  are 
treated  by  our  Prime  Minister 
with  the  courtesy  and  con- 
sideration generally  offered  to 
the  representatives  of  great 
and  friendly  States. 

It  is  part  of  the  imperti- 
nence of  the  Irish  assassins  to 
pretend  that  they  and  their 
dupes  are  at  war  with  Great 
Britain.  War  is  impossible 
between  one  part  of  the  United 
Kingdom  and  another.  Ire- 
land is  not,  and  never  has 
been,  an  independent  State. 
She  has  sworn,  and  she  owes 
fealty  to  the  British  Crown  ; 
and  every  murder  which  her 
rebel  citizens  commit  is  pun- 
ishable, and  should  be  pun- 
ished, by  the  rope.  Nor  can 
the  strife,  which  has  disgraced 
the  Irish  for  the  last  few  years, 
be  dignified  by  the  name  of 
civil  war.  When  civil  wars 
have  happened,  they  have  been 
conducted,  if  with  bitterness, 
at  least  with  some  appreciation 
of  the  laws  which  govern  the 
conflict  of  armed  men.  Ireland 
has  fought  without  law  and 
without  honour.  She  has  not 
met  those  whom  erroneously 
she  describes  as  her  enemies 
in  the  open.  She  has  preferred 


the  crueller  method  of  the 
dagger  and  the  bomb.  And 
Mr  Lloyd  George  treats  her 
as  an  equal. 

Mr  Lloyd  George,  indeed, 
has  gone  further  down  the  path 
of  humiliation  than  the  chief 
minister  of  a  great  State  has 
ever  travelled.  He  has  stooped 
to  beg  an  armistice  from  the 
rebels.  After  this  act  of  sub- 
servience, how  can  Britain  ever 
again  claim  to  be  the  head  of 
a  vast  Empire?  We  beg  the 
chiefs  of  a  band  of  criminals  and 
assassins  to  hold  their  hands, 
while  we  attempt  to  make 
terms  with  them ;  and  by  this 
very  act  of  begging  we  charge 
the  miscreants,  whom  we  are 
prepared  to  meet  in  confer- 
ence, with  complicity  in  all 
the  crimes  committed  in  Ire- 
land during  the  last  few  years. 
For  how  can  a  man  promise  a 
cessation  of  murder  and  robbery 
and  arson  who  is  not  responsible 
for  them  ? 

However,  in  these  days,  when 
all  things  save  honest  dealing 
are  approved  and  applauded, 
we  wait  upon  the/'  criminal 
with  hat  in  hand.  And  thus 
we  prove  ourselves  callously 
indifferent  to  bloodshed  and 
murder.  Never  before  in  our 
history  have  we  contemplated 
arson  and  assassination  with 
the  smiling  sympathy  which 
we  bestow  upon  a  beau  geste. 
As  we  have  said  already,  a 
pedant,  not  yet  arrested,  has 
encouraged  his  countrymen  by 
defining  murder  as  a  "  mystical 
expression  of  nationality."  Now 
what  is  termed  "nationality" 


1921.] 


A  Truce  of  the  Devil. 


283 


is  nearly  always  an  excuse  for 
injustice  and  cruelty ;  and  were 
it  a  sincere  and  wholesome 
thought,  it  would  not  be  worth 
a  single  murder  or  the  burning 
of  a  single  house.  In  truth 
"  nationality  "  is  a  foolish  as- 
piration for  the  Irish,  led  by  the 
alien  Valera,  and  themselves 
descended  from  many  a  mixed 
race.  If  Ireland  is  to  be  given 
back  to  those  whose  claim  to 
its  possession  finds  any  support 
in  the  past,  let  the  foreigners 
who  now  prey  upon  it  return 
to  whence  they  came,  and  make 
way  for  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Aran  Islands,  the  "  rightful 
owners  "  of  the  land.  Assur- 
edly this  plea  of  "  nationality  " 
is  a  mere  piece  of  hypocrisy, 
and  we  should  hear  less  of  it 
if  England^  sent  all  the  Irish- 
men who  extract  an  easy 
living  from  her  packing  about 
their  business. 

That  which  is  most  pro- 
foundly disquieting  in  the  recent 
history  of  Ireland  is  the  Govern- 
ment's levity.  Bloodshed  seems 
to  be  lightly  considered  by  Mr 
Lloyd  George  and  his  colleagues, 
who  evidently  regard  it  as  no 
part  of  their  business  to  avenge 
the  slaughter  of  British  sol- 
diers and  the  persecution  of 
loyal  and  peaceful  citizens. 
We  have  gone  far  away  even 
from  the  slack  government  of 
the  'eighties.  Not  even  Mr 
Gladstone  would  have  invited 
Skin-the-Goat  to  a  friendly 
conference  after  the  murder  of 
Lord  Frederick  Cavendish.  And 
even  if  a  peace  of  some  sort 
is  patched  up  between  the 


British  Cabinet  and  the  Irish 
assassins,  no  good  can  come  of 
it.  We  cannot  live  on  terms 
of  friendship  with  unpunished 
assassins,  and  it  is  idle  to  talk 
of  a  truce  in  Ireland  until 
the  crimes  of  the  Irish  have 
been  duly  atoned  for  on  the 
gallows.  The  Irish  continued 
their  policy  of  murder  up^to 
the  hour  of  truce,  no  doubt 
to  intimidate  our  cowardly 
Government,  and  the  truce 
thus  ushered  in  was  a  truce 
not  of  God  but  of  the  devil. 
Not  even  General  Smuts 
could  escape  the  prevailing 
frivolity  when  he  intervened 
in  the  affairs  of  Ireland.  He  is 
one  who  takes  his  statesmanship 
seriously,  yet  he  did  not  refrain 
from  a  jest  when  he  spoke  of 
the  Irish.  "  The  people  of 
Ireland,"  said  he,  "  were  di- 
vided into  two  classes — those 
who  were  in  jail  (laughter), 
and  those  who  were  on  the 
run."  Why  the  reference 
to  "  jail "  should  provoke 
laughter  we  do  not  know, 
especially  as  those  who  have 
the  best  claim  to  be  kept  at 
His  Majesty's  expense  are  still 
at  large.  But  the  jest  stirred, 
not  unnaturally,  at  least  one 
woman  to  indignation.  Mrs 
Brooke,  the  widow  of  Mr  Frank 
Brooke,  who  was  foully  mur- 
dered in  Dublin  a  year  ago 
by  Mr  Valera's  followers,  was 
impelled  to  write  to  General 
Smuts  and  tell  him  how  horri- 
fied she  was  that  he  could  have 
treated  the  subject  of  Ireland 
with  such  appalling  and  cruel 
levity.  "  You  stated  in  that 


284 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Aug. 


speech,"  said  she,   "  that  you 
found    the    people    of    Ireland 
divided  into  two  classes  :  those 
who    are    in    jail,    and    those 
who  are  on  the  run.     Do  you 
then  ignore  those  whose  lives 
have    been    shipwrecked    and 
whose  homes  have  been  broken 
up  by  the  brutal  savagery  of 
the  two  classes,  who,  from  your 
own  words,  appear  to  be  the 
only  ones  worthy  of  considera- 
tion ?  "     The  reproach  is  well 
deserved,  and  it  is  character- 
istic of  our  politicians  and  of 
our  press  (with  a  single  excep- 
tion) that  they  treat  the  suffer- 
ings   of    the    loyalists    with    a 
light-minded  indifference,  that 
they  seem   to   bear   a   grudge 
against  the  innocent  men  and 
women  who  are  murdered   as 
though  they  erred  in  not  get- 
ting out  of  the  way,  and  that 
they    can    find    no    words    of 
reproach  for  the  masked  men 
who  prowl  about  the  country, 
armed  with  dagger  and  bomb, 
to    kill   and   maim    the   loyal 
servants  of  the  king. 

But  when  General  Smuts 
speaks  of  "  the  great  Irish 
problem  "  as  a  soluble  prob- 
lem, he  is  guilty,  we  think,  of 
misunderstanding  as  well  as 
of  levity.  There  is  no  Irish 
problem,  soluble  or  insoluble. 
Ireland  has  for  many  years 
been  the  spoiled  child  of  the 
Empire,  and  has  repaid  the 
many  kindnesses  showered  upon 
her  with  murderous  ingratitude. 
She  has  been  given  the  Home 
Eule  which  she  asked  for,  and 
still  she  is  not  content.  She 
has  claimed  the  right  to  kill 


and  burn  as  she  chose,  and  her 
claim  has  been  allowed.    What 
more  does  she  want  ?     What 
more  can  we  give  her  ?     We 
can  give  her  justice.     That  is 
the  problem  which  affects  the 
whole  United  Kingdom.      We 
can   substitute  for   the  vague 
talk    about    an    illusory    Irish 
"problem"  a  strict  imposition 
of  law  and  order.     We  must 
punish  the  evildoer  in  Ireland 
as  he  is  punished  everywhere 
else   in   the   world,   except   in 
the    haunts    of    head-hunters 
and  other  savages.    And  when 
Ireland    is    taught    to    under- 
stand that  murder  and  arson 
have  their  own  penalties   ap- 
portioned  to   them,    she   may 
return  to  the  state  of  happi- 
ness and  prosperity  which  was 
hers  in  1906,  and  England  will 
be  relieved  of  a  vast  uncom- 
fortable    burden.       But     two 
things    must    be    remembered 
in  the  meanwhile  :    in  the  first 
place,   Ireland   shall  never  be 
an  independent  republic,   free 
to    plot    and    scheme    against 
the    safety   of   Great   Britain ; 
and  in  the  second  place,  never 
again  shall  the  common  brutal 
crimes  of  arson  and  assassina- 
tion go  unpunished.     If  these 
things   be   remembered,    there 
is  no  reason  why  Ireland  should 
not   resume  in  peace  her   life 
of    prosperity — she    is    to-day 
the   most   prosperous   member 
of  the  United  Kingdom, — and 
lose   in    a   generation   or   two 
the  reputation  of  the  murder- 
ess   which    still    clings    close 
to  her,   and  which  cannot  be 
shed  at  once  by  any  process 


1921.J 


'Astarte.' 


285 


of  patched-up  peace  or  sudden 
conversion. 

In  the  year  1905  Lord  Love- 
lace printed  for  private  circu- 
lation a  book  called  '  Astarte,' 
whose  object  it  was  to  prove 
Lady  Byron  a  saint  at  the 
expense  of  Lord  Byron's  hon- 
ourable reputation.  It  is  a 
strange  enterprise  this  to  offer 
up  a  grandfather  upon  a  grand- 
mother's altar.  At  the  moment 
when  Lord  Lovelace  printed 
his  book,  the  tiresome  scandal 
of  the  Byrons  was  falling  into 
forgetfulness.  Byron  the  poet ' 
was  being  esteemed  at  his  true 
worth.  '  Don  Juan  '  was  al- 
ready recognised  for  the  mas- 
terpiece that  it  is.  The  ad- 
mirable edition  of  Byron's  let- 
ters, for  which  our  gratitude  is 
due  to  Lord  Ernie,  had  shown 
to  the  world  the  excellence  of 
his  prose  style  and  the  wisdom 
of  his  criticism.  These  things 
were  enough  for  the  world, 
which  was  tired  of  Mrs  Stowe 
and  her  scandal,  and  should, 
we  might  have  thought,  satis- 
fied the  pride  of  Lord  Love- 
lace. Lord  Lovelace  was  not 
satisfied.  He  must  still  keep 
the  old  controversy  alive.  So 
busy  had  he  been  in  convicting 
Lord  Byron  of  incest,  that  in 
the  end  he  thought  he  was 
doing  him  a  service.  "  Byron 
was  ready  to  sacrifice  every- 
thing for  Augusta,"  he  writes 
with  no  warrant  from  Byron's 
letters.  "  If  this  had  not  been 
prevented,  he  would  have  been 
a  more  poetical  figure  in  his- 
tory than  as  the  author  of 


'  Manfred,'  and  all  the  poems 
of  despair  and  ennui  born  of  a 
solitude  among  unmentionable 
women."  We  cannot  agree 
with  Lord  Lovelace.  If  it  had 
not  been  for  '  Manfred '  and 
the  other  poems,  Byron  would 
have  been  no  figure  at  all  in 
history,  poetical  or  otherwise, 
and  Lord  Lovelace  erred  very 
strangely  if  he  thought  that 
he  was  conferring  a  favour 
upon  Byron  by  raking  up  all 
the  scandals  which  he  could 
concerning  his  distinguished 
ancestor. 

The  man  with  the  muck- 
rake is  not  an  enticing  spec- 
tacle. Yet  Lord  Lovelace  set 
about  his  work  with  a  kind  of 
complacency.  His  prose  is  not 
always  intelligible,  yet  we  dis- 
cern a  satisfaction  with  his 
job  in  this  partially  intelligible 
paragraph  :  "  The  sombre  out- 
law '  Manfred  '  is  a  fairer  and 
nobler  portrait  than  Lord  Byron 
emptied  of  his  character  and 
history,  converted  into  an  ad- 
vertising nuisance,  and  com- 
pleted into  a  copious  soporific 
for  respectable  citizens  willing 
to  take  a  dose  of  edification. 
The  real  man  was  not  to  be 
found  in  letters  to  paid  friends 
or  an  artificial  padding  of  com- 
mentaries. Lord  Byron's  fame 
sore  needs  untarnishing  if  pos- 
sible from  posthumous  con- 
tamination by  his  ignoble  ac- 
quaintances." Here  is  a  fine 
confusion  of  posthumous  piety  ! 
No  man's  fame,  if  it  be  true, 
as  Byron's  is  to-day,  needs 
untarnishing,  and  the  real  man 
is  to  be  found  in  his  poems 


286 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Aug. 


and  letters,  and  not  in  scan- 
dals and  suspicions  set  afoot 
by  those  who  cannot  to-day 
be  cross-examined. 

But  if  Lord  Lovelace  tells 
us  little  that  is  worth  hearing 
about  Byron,  if  he  follows  an 
evil  example  in  dragging  up 
from  the  depths  of  oblivion 
irrelevant  gossip,  he  has  drawn 
a  curious  portrait  of  himself. 
He  seems  to  have  been  a  man, 
wayward  and  perplexed,  doing 
the  very  deed  which  he  bitterly 
condemned  in  others.  "  The 
pillage  of  his  tomb  should  never 
have  been  encouraged  or  con- 
doned," says  he,  and  surely 
none  has  pillaged  his  tomb  with 
a  rougher  hand  than  Lord 
Lovelace.  And  again  :  "  The 
secret  of  life  is  never  discovered 
by  the  posthumous  spy."  We 
agree,  and  still  we  wonder  why 
a  writer  of  principles  sound  as 
these  should  reject  them  in 
his  own  practice.  "Biog- 
raphy " — once  more  it  is  Lord 
Lovelace  speaking — "  grows  out 
of  pamphlets  having  their  origin 
in  complete  rancour  or  pursuit 
of  profit."  Truly  we  can  ex- 
onerate Lord  Lovelace  from 
"  pursuit  of  profit."  We  can- 
not hold  him  guiltless  of  ran- 
cour ;  and  if  ever  a  book  could 
be  justly  described  as  a  pam- 
phlet it  is  '  Astarte.' 

The  one  excuse  that  he  might 
have  claimed  for  his  work  was 
that  he  had^made  a  calm  ju- 
dicial defence  of  Lady  Byron. 
And  the  truth  is  that  he  is 
never  calm  nor  judicial  for  a 
single  page.  The  portraits 
which  he  draws  of  Byron  and 


Augusta  are  of  a  peculiar  vio- 
lence, and  their  falsity  may 
be  easily  discerned  by  those 
who  take  the  trouble  to  read 
the  letters,  written  by  the  cul- 
prits, arraigned  by  Lord  Love- 
lace. If  anybody,  man  or 
woman,  be  mentioned,  with 
whom  Lord  Lovelace  disagrees, 
he  is  unbridled  in  invective. 
For  him  Sir  Alexander  Cock- 
burn  is  "  the  determined  pro- 
vider for  the  scaffold."  And 
here  is  his  urbane  comment 
upon  Madame  Guiccioli :  "If 
post-mortem  advertisements  in 
rotten  books  could  create  a 
poet's  literary  concubine  out 
of  an  elderly  nobleman's  divor- 
cible  wife,  hard  and  dull  in 
character,  with  an  evil  coun- 
tenance and  a  dumpy  figure, 
Guiccioli's  claims  to  that  sort 
of  notoriety  were  trumpeted 
without  much  pretence  of  de- 
cency." One  need  not  be  the 
poet's  grandson  to  write  in 
such  a  style  as  this ;  and  as 
the  style  suggests  throughout 
a  lack  of  judgment  and  modera- 
tion, it  does  not  persuade  us 
to  look  upon  '  Astarte '  with 
confidence. 

The  new  edition  of  '  Astarte  ' 
(London :  Christophers),  now 
given  freely  to  the  world, 
omits  a  few  irrelevances  and 
adds  a  few  more  letters.  It 
tells  the  old  tale  In  the  old 
way,  and  makes  little  for  edi- 
fication. It  shows  us  the  case 
from  one  side  only,  and  leaves 
it  very  much  where  it  was. 
No  account  is  taken  of  the 
attitude  assumed  by  Lord 
Byron,  who  always  protested 


1921.] 


Lord  Lovelace's  Indiscretion. 


287 


against  the  hints  and  innuen- 
does of  Lady  Byron  and  her 
friends,  and  who  insisted  al- 
ways, and  insisted  in  vain,  that 
the  unexplained  charges  levelled 
atijhim  should  be  plainly  and 
openly  set  forth.  There  is  no 
admission  of  Byron's  habit  of 
mystification,  of  his  delight  in 
charging  himself  and  others 
with  crimes  which  he  and  they 
had  not  committed.  If  the 
curious  will  turn  to  Lord 
Broughton's  account  of  the 
miserable  business,  they  will 
find  themselves  in  an  atmos- 
phere far  less  highly  charged 
than  the  atmosphere  of 
'  Astarte  ' ;  and  they  will  note 
that,  no  matter  what  he  had 
done,  Lord  Byron's  conduct 
of  the  case  was  juster  and  more 
dignified  than  the  conduct  of 
the  other  side.  We  are  not 
told  by  Lord  Lovelace  what 
intervened  in  the  few  days 
after  the  celebrated  letter 
signed  "  Pippin  -  Pip  -  Ip,"  to 
fill  the  soul  of  Lady  Byron 
with  inextinguishable  rancour. 
Meanwhile  we  gather  from 
'  Astarte  '  that  no  sooner  had 
Byron  left  England  than  Lady 
Byron  and  her  friend,  Mrs 
Villiers,  set  about  extorting 
a  confession  from  Augusta 
Leigh  that  Byron  had  been 
her  lover  with  a  persistence 
and  a  cunning  not  pleasant 
to  contemplate.  The  wretched 
Mrs  Leigh  was  henceforth  the 
fly  in  the  spider's  web.  The 
chief  spider,  Lady  Byron,whose 
defects,  as  Lord  Lovelace  says, 
are  the  inversions  of  virtues, 
spared  not  her  sister-in-law. 


She  alternately  threatened  and 
cajoled  her.  Nothing  more 
pitiable  than  the  letters  of 
Mrs  Leigh,  stricken  by  a  far 
cleverer  woman  than  herself, 
are  known  to  us.  On  17th 
July  1816  Lady  Byron  wrote 
to  reassure  her  sister-in-law, 
"  Will  you  still  think  me  mis- 
taken '  on  one  point  '  when  I 
say  I  am  now  thoroughly  con- 
vinced that  if  from  the  hour 
we  first  met  all  your  conduct 
had  been  open  to  me,  I  could 
not  have  found  in  it  anything 
to  reproach  you  with — for  that 
your  errors  of  judgment,  how- 
ever to  be  regretted,  were 
perfectly  innocent  f"  A  month 
later,  if  we  may  believe  Lady 
Byron,  Mrs  Leigh  made  a  full 
confession  of  her  crime.  Of 
this  confession  we  have  no 
other  evidence  than  a  state- 
ment made  by  Lady  Byron  in 
the  following  year,  and  we 
take  the  statement  for  what 
it  is  worth,  as  the  expression 
of  a  suspicion  tenaciously  held 
through  a  long  life. 

While  Lady  Byron  was  writ- 
ing and  talking,  as  she  thought, 
all  for  the  good  of  Augusta 
Leigh,  her  advisers  were  not 
so  well  disposed  to  their  victim. 
"  If  Augusta  fled  to  Byron  in 
exile,"  so  says  Lord  Lovelace, 
"  and  was  seen  with  him  et 
soror  et  conjux,  the  victory  re- 
mained with  Lady  Byron  solid 
and  final.  This  was  the  solu- 
tion hoped  for  by  Lady  Byron's 
friends."  They  must  have  been 
amiable  people  these  friends 
of  Lady  Byron,  and  they  seem 
to  have  hoped  that  if  they 


288 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Aug.  1921. 


did  not  manufacture  evidence, 
evidence  might  be  manufac- 
tured for  them.  However,  Mrs 
Leigh  did  not  fly  to  Byron. 
Brother  and  sister  never  met 
again  ;  and  Byron  died  with- 
out knowing  in  what  charge  he 
was  involved  by  Lady  Byron 
and  her  friends. 

The  publication  of  '  Astarte  ' 
serves  no  useful  end  unless  it 
be  taken  as  a  warning  against 
the  resurrection  of  ancient  scan- 
dals. The  world  is  not  con- 
cerned with  the  tittle-tattle  of 
the  past.  There  is  no  reason 
why  all  and  sundry  should 
have  revealed  to  them,  with 


the  elaboration  of  detail,  the 
charges  which  were  scrupu- 
lously hidden  from  the  poet 
himself.  The  one  thing  memor- 
able concerning  Lord  Byron  is 
that  he  was  a  poet.  The  dis- 
putes of  his  wife  and  sister, 
much  as  they  meant  to  him, 
mean  nothing  to  us.  Nor  is 
the  divided  loyalty  of  his 
grandson  a  fact  of  great  im- 
portance. In  brief,  we  can 
best  show  our  interest  in 
Lord  Byron  by  reading  again 
'  Childe  Harold  '  and  <  Don 
Juan,'  and  by  leaving  the 
gossip  of  partisans  to  the 
oblivion  which  it  deserves. 


Printed  by  William  Blachvood  and  Sons. 


BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE. 


No.  MCCLXXI. 


SEPTEMBER  1921. 


VOL.  COX. 


TALES  OF  THE   E.I.C. 


XV.   THE   AMERICAN   NURSE. 


IN  the  early  'eighties  there 
lived  in  the  Cloonalla  district 
a  small  farmer  named  Peter 
Walsh,  who  was  what  is  gene- 
rally called  in  the  West  a  bad 
farmer,  which  is  simply  the 
Irish  way  of  saying  that  he 
was  lazy  and  good-for-nothing, 
and  for  several  years  Walsh 
had  been  in  the  clutches  of 
the  Cloonalla  gombeen  man, 
the  local  big  shopkeeper. 

The  ways  of  the  gombeen 
man  are  quite  simple  and 
usually  most  successful,  the 
success  largely  depending  on 
a  run  of  bad  potato  crops,  as 
generally  after  two  successive 
failures  the  majority  of  the 
farmers  in  a  poor  mountainous 
district  have  no  money  at  all. 
They  are  thus  forced  to  go  to 
the  gombeen  wallah,  who  ad- 
vances them  so  much  money, 
according  to  the  size  of  their 
farm  and  their  capacity  for 
drink,  as  a  mortgage  on  the 
farm  at  a  high  rate  of  interest. 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXXI. 


But  instead  of  paying  them 
money  he  gives  credit  for 
goods,  and  there  is  a  verbal 
agreement  that  he  will  not 
foreclose  as  long  as  the  farmer 
deals  solely  with  him  and  makes 
no  bones  about  the  prices  he 
is  charged.  Formerly  this  was 
the  terrible  millstone  which 
used  to  hang  for  life  round  the 
necks  of  many  Western  peas- 
ants. 

However,  Walsh's  millstone 
troubled  him  not  one  bit,  and 
he  "  staggered  "  along  for  sev- 
eral years  until  there  came  a 
sequence  of  three  bad  and  in- 
different crops,  which  finished 
him  completely.  Seeing  that 
Walsh  was  not  going  to  make 
any  effort,  the  gombeen  man 
closed  on  the  farm,  and  Peter, 
the  wife,  and  their  one  child, 
Bridget,  aged  three,  years,  left 
Ireland  for  America,  illogi- 
cally  cursing  the  British  Govern- 
ment for  their  own  sins  and 
those  of  the  gombeen  devil. 
L 


290 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Sept. 


Now  the  gombeen  man  had 
no  use  for  Peter's  farm  him- 
self, so  he  proceeded  to  make 
Peter's  brother,  Michael,  drunk 
one  Saturday  night  in  his  shop, 
and  made  the  farm  over  to 
him  with  the  former  conditions, 
not  forgetting  to  double  the 
mortgage. 

In  due  course  Michael  died 
without  kith  or  kin  saving 
Bridget,  now  a  hospital  nurse 
in  New  York,  who  one  day 
received  a  letter  from  a  Bally- 
bor  solicitor  informing  her  of 
her  uncle's  death,  and  that 
she  was  the  sole  heiress  to  his 
two  farms  in  Cloonalla,  and 
asking  for  instructions. 

From  her  youth  upwards 
Nurse  Bridget  had  heard  noth- 
ing but  abuse  of  the  so-called 
English  tyranny  in  Ireland — in 
fact,  up  to  the  time  when  she 
went  to  be  trained  as  a  hospital 
nurse,  her  only  knowledge  of 
England  and  Ireland  was  the 
thousand  and  one  supposed 
wrongs  which  Ireland  had  suf- 
fered at  the  hands  of  England 
since ".  the  days  of  Cromwell, 
and  her  one  ambition  in  life 
was  to  see  the  downfall  of  the 
British  Empire,  and  with  that 
the  freedom  of  her  fatherland. 
In  America,  the  Irish  children 
find  plenty  of  mentors  of  hate 
of  England,  both  among  their 
own  people  and  the  Germans. 

In  time,  when  Bridget  began 
to  earn  some  money  as  a 
nurse,  she  joined  every  Irish 
anti-British  society,  secret  and 
otherwise,  she  could,  and  at 
the  time  of  her  leaving  the 
States  to  take  over  her  uncle's 
farms  possessed  more  wonder- 


ful and  weird  badges  and  medal- 
lions than  she  could  conveni- 
ently wear  at  once  :  incident- 
ally the  societies  relieved  her 
of  most  of  her  earnings  "  to 
provide  powder  and  shot  for 
ould  Ireland." 

On  the  liner,  Bridget  met 
many  of  her  race,  mostly  men 
and  women  who  had  worked 
hard  for  some  years  in  the 
States  and  saved  enough  money 
to  return  to  Ireland,  where 
they  hoped  to  buy  a  small 
farm  or  shop  and  never  to 
wander  any  more.  One  and 
all  were  longing  to  be  in  Ireland 
once  again,  and  not  one  ever 
mentioned  a  word  of  the 
"  brutal  English  tyranny  "  until 
Bridget  started  the  subject. 

Bridget  landed  at  Queens- 
town,  made  her  way  to  Cork, 
and  set  out  on  the  long  and 
tedious  cross-country  railway 
journey  to  the  West.  At  the 
best  of  times  the  journey  is  a 
slow  one,  but  during  1920  it 
became  much  worse  owing  to 
the  great  uncertainty  of  any 
train  reaching  its  destination. 
Trains  were  even  known  to 
stand  in  a  station  for  days 
on  end  while  the  driver,  the 
stoker,  the  guard,  and  the  sta- 
tion employees  argued  and  re- 
argued  what  they  would  do  and 
what  they  would  not  do. 

Twice  during  the  journey 
Bridget  had  glimpses  of  the 
brutal  British  soldiery  when 
two  military  parties  wished  to 
travel  on  the  train,  and  the 
driver  and  guard  refused  to 
start  until  the  armed  assassins 
of  the  British  Government  left. 
At  first  Bridget  was  slightly 


1921.] 


Tales  ofiheE.I.C. 


291 


confused;  no  doubt  the  sol- 
diers were  terrible  blackguards, 
but  at  the  time  they  seemed 
to  be  quiet  and  inoffensive, 
and  she  remembered  frequently 
having  seen  American  soldiers 
in  the  trains  in  the  States,  and 
the  drivers  and  guards  there 
made  no  objection. 

However,  a  fellow-passenger 
explained  to  her  that  the  sol- 
diers used  the  Irish  railways 
to  go  from  one  part  of  the 
country  to  another  in  order 
to  murder  the  unfortunate  sol- 
diers of  the  Eepublican  Army, 
and  that  the  guard  and  driver, 
as  became  good  citizens  and 
soldiers  of  the  Irish  Eepublic, 
were  quite  right  to  refuse  to 
aid  and  abet  the  British  by 
carrying  them  on  the  train. 

At  a  junction  some  thirty 
miles  from  Ballybor  she 
changed  into  a  composite  train 
carrying  passengers  and  goods, 
and  soon  after  leaving  the 
junction  the  train  pulled  up 
suddenly  in  a  cutting,  and 
there  was  loud  shouting  and 
firing.  Bridget  was  greatly 
alarmed  and  excited,  thinking 
that  she  would  now  see  the 
British  troops  commit  some  of 
the  terrible  crimes  she  had 
heard  so  much  about  in  the 
States — she  had  heard  nothing 
of  the  crimes  of  the  I.E. A. 

It  takes  a  long  time  in  the 
West  of  Ireland  to  do  any- 
thing, and  it  was  quite  twenty 
minutes  before  Bridget  realised 
that  this  was  a  hold-up  by  the 
I.E.A.,  and  that  all  the  pas- 
sengers were  to  get  out  and 
line  up  at  the  top  of  the  cut- 
ting. The  confusion  then  be- 


came terrific,  half  the  pas- 
sengers going  up  one  side  of 
the  cutting,  and  the  remainder 
up  the  other. 

Wild-looking  masked  bandits 
then  started  shouting  to  the 
people  to  come  down  and  go 
to  the  other  side,  whereupon 
a  general  post  ensued. 

Finally,  the  whole  lot  was 
collected  together,  searched,  and 
at  last  allowed  to  take  their 
seats  in  the  train  again ;  but 
the  performance  was  not  by 
any  means  over  yet.  Next, 
the  waggons  were  all  broken 
open,  the  contents  thrown  on 
the  line,  and  then  returned 
except  Belfast  merchandise, 
which  was  made  into  a  heap — 
coffins,  cases  of  jam  and  tea, 
boxes  of  linen,  &c. — sprinkled 
with  petrol,  and  then  set  on 
fire. 

Bridget  arrived  at  Ballybor 
on  a  summer's  evening,  and 
at  once  set  out  for  Cloonalla. 
Ballybor  appeared  a  mean  and 
dirty  little  town  to  her  Ameri- 
can eyes,  and  she  hoped  for 
better  things  at  Cloonalla — a 
good  hotel  and  decent  stores. 
After  an  hour  and  a  half's 
drive  the  carman  pulled  up 
outside  Cloonalla  chapel,  and 
asked  his  fare  where  she  wanted 
to  go  to.  Not  realising  where 
she  was,  Bridget  replied,  to 
Cloonalla,  the  best  hotel  in 
Cloonalla,  only  to  learn  to 
her  astonishment  that  the  place 
boasted  only  one  shop  and  no 
hotel  of  any  kind.  And  in  the 
end  she  was  thankful  to  accept 
the  hospitality  of  a  farmer's 
wife,  and  share  a  stuffy  bed 
with  the  woman's  daughter. 


292 


Tales  ofiheEJ.C. 


[Sept. 


Bridget  received  a  shock 
when  she  saw  her  uncle's  house 
— she  said  that  they  wouldn't 
put  a  pig  in  it  in  America — 
and  the  idea  she  had  had  of 
settling  down  there  quickly 
vanished.  However,  she  deter- 
mined to  stay  on  awhile  in 
Ireland,  and  help  to  the  best 
of  her  ability  the  famous  sol- 
diers of  the  I.E. A.  (she  had 
not  realised  yet  that  the  bandits 
who  had  held  up  the  train  were 
the  famous  soldiers)  of  whom 
she  had  heard  so  much  in 
America. 

On  visiting  the  solicitor  in 
Ballybor,  she  found  that  her 
uncle  had  left  her  a  few  hun- 
dred pounds,  and  this  she  gave 
to  the  man  Hanley,  with  whom 
she  lodged,  to  buy  cattle  with 
to  stock  her  farm. 

As  soon  as  Bridget  had 
settled  down  she  found  ample 
scope  for  her  political  ambitions 
both  in  Cloonalla  and  Ballybor, 
where  most  of  the  young  people 
of  ker  own  age  found  talking 
sedition  far  easier  and  more 
amusing  than  hard  work  ;  and 
as  everybody  seemed  to  have 
money  to  burn,  she  had  a  great 
time — political  meetings,  drill- 
ing, picnics,  and  dances.  And 
after  joining  the  Cumann  na 
Ban  she  volunteered  for  active 
service  with  the  local  company 
of  the  I.E. A.,  little  knowing 
what  was  before  her. 

At  first  the  game  was  amusing 
enough,  teaching  the  young 
men  the  rudiments  of  first 
aid,  and  lecturing  to  the  girls 
and  youths  of  Cloonalla  in 
the  schoolhouse  in  the  evening, 
followed  by  dancing  until  the 


early  hours  of  the  morning ; 
and  probably  Bridget  would 
have  gone  no  further  than  this 
but  for  the  unfortunate  arrival 
of  two  professional  gunmen  in 
Cloonalla,  who  had  been  sent 
from  Dublin  to  carry  out  the 
usual  series  of  outrages  and 
then  to  vanish  before  the  storm 
burst. 

The  gunmen  came  with  a 
list  of  local  undesirables  (from 
the  I.E. A.  point  of  view)  to  be 
removed — many  of  the  names 
had  probably  been  given  out 
of  private  spite  through  the 
means  of  anonymous  letters, 
a  very  favourite  practice  in 
Ireland — and  at  once  proceeded 
to  work,  or  rather  to  see  that 
the  Cloonalla  Volunteers  did 
the  dirty  work. 

The  following  week  seemed 
to  Bridget  like  a  horrible  night- 
mare, starting  with  the  murder 
of  ex-soldiers,  who  paid  the 
full  penalty  of  being  so  stupid 
as  to  believe  that  the  British 
Government  would  protect  its 
friends  and  supporters  in  Ire- 
land, and  culminating  in  the 
revolting  crime  of  the  murder 
of  a  Protestant  clergyman,  who 
was  seventy -nine  years  of 
age. 

Early  in  the  morning,  before 
the  household  was  up,  the  old 
man  heard  a  loud  knocking  at 
the  hall  door,  and  on  coming 
downstairs  found  the  usual 
party  of  armed  and  masked 
men,  who  ordered  him  to  follow 
them.  He  did  so,  and  had  no 
sooner  reached  the  road  than 
they  shot  him  dead, — to  be 
found  by  his  old  wife — the 
servants  dared  not  leave  the 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


293 


house — lying  in  the  middle  of 
the  road  in  a  pool  of  blood. 

That  night  the  gunmen  van- 
ished, and  with  them  the  orgy 
of  crime  ceased  for  a  time  at 
any  rate.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  these  revolting  and  appa- 
rently purposeless  murders  are 
instigated  by  the  I.E. A.,  but 
nevertheless  they  are  carried 
out  by  the  peasants  in  most 
cases,  and  they  will  have  to 
bear  the  stigma  now  and  al- 
ways. Under  a  determined 
leader  they  appear  to  take 
kindly  to  "  political  murder." 

Bridget  was  physically  and 
mentally  sick  with  horror,  and 
made  up  her  mind  to  return  to 
the  States  as  soon  as  she  could 
dispose  of  her  farms,  and  to 
this  end  bicycled  into  Ballybor 
to  arrange  with  an  auctioneer 
to  sell  the  farms  for  her  by 
public  auction  at  the  earliest 
possible  date.  The  following 
day  the  auctioneer  inspected 
the  farms,  and  declared  that 
she  ought  to  get  at  least  a 
thousand  pounds  for  her  in- 
terest in  each  farm,  and  fixed 
a  near  date  for  the  auction, 
though  he  was  very  doubtful 
if  the  I.E.A.  would  permit  it, 
and  advised  her  to  try  and 
obtain  their  consent.  But  the 
last  thing  in  the  world  Bridget 
wanted  was  to  have  any  further 
dealings  with  the  I.E.A.,  and 
the  auctioneer  left  promising 
to  do  his  best. 

That  night  after  the  Hanleys 
and  Bridget  had  gone  to  bed 
they  received  a  visit  from  the 
captain  of  the  Cloonalla  Volun- 
teers, who  wanted  to  know  if 
it  was  true  that  Bridget  was 


going  to  try  and  sell  her  farms 
by  public  auction.  Bridget 
told  him  that  it  was  quite 
true,  and  that  she  was  going 
to  return  to  America.  Where- 
upon he  told  her  that  the  I.E.A. 
would  not  allow  this,  and  that 
if  she  wanted  to  dispose  of  her 
land  a  Sinn  Fein  Court  would 
value  it,  and  the  Eepublican 
Government  would  then  take 
it  over  and  pay  her  in 
Bail  Eireann  Bonds  (to  be  re- 
deemed at  their  face  value 
when  Ireland  is  free  and  the 
Eepublic  established),  and  after 
telling  her  to  stop  the  auction 
he  left. 

In  a  few  days  Bridget  re- 
ceived an  order  to  attend  a 
Sinn  Fein  Arbitration  Court 
in  Cloonalla  Chapel  at  night, 
where  the  judges  valued  her 
farms  at  one  hundred  pounds 
each  (loud  applause  in  Court 
by  the  men  who  hoped  to  get 
the  farms),  and  ordered  her  to 
hand  over  the  land  the  follow- 
ing day  to  the  Cloonalla  Volun- 
teer captain,  who  had  every 
intention  of  keeping  the  farms 
himself. 

Bridget  protested  loudly  that 
she  was  a  citizen  of  the  United 
States,  that  the  farms  were 
hers,  and  that  if  this  was  a 
free  country  like  America  she 
was  entitled  to  get  the  full 
market  value  for  them,  which 
she  had  been  told  was  quite 
two  thousand  pounds ;  and 
lastly,  that  she  had  proved 
herself  a  good  patriot,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

All  of  no  avail — the  judges 
gave  her  three  days  to  get  rid 
of  her  cattle  and  hand  over 


294 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


[Sept. 


the  land,  at  the  end  of  which 
time  if  she  had  not  complied 
she  was  to  be  deported,  and  her 
farms  and  cattle  confiscated. 

Bridget  returned  to  the  Han- 
leys'  house  to  find  her  boxes 
packed  and  dumped  in  the 
road,  together  with  her  bicycle, 
and  the  door  of  the  house 
locked,  and  this  in  the  middle 
of  the  night.  After  trying  in 
vain  to  gain  admittance  she 
sat  down  on  one  of  her  boxes 
and  started  to  cry. 

Towards  dawn  she  again 
made  a  piteous  appeal  to  the 
Hartleys  to  be  allowed  to  stay 
in  their  house  for  the  rest  of 
the  night,  and  that  she  would 
leave  the  following  day  ;  and 
for  answer  Mrs  Hanley  cursed 
her,  and  warned  her  that  if 
she  was  not  gone  before  day- 
light her  hair  would  be  cut 
off,  and  "  God  only  knew  what 
else  would  happen  to  her." 
In  a  blind  terror  she  mounted 
her  bicycle  and  rode  madly 
into  Ballybor,  where  she  had 
to  wait  some  hours  in  the 
streets  before  she  could  gain 
admittance  to  a  lodging-house. 

Bridget  was  made  of  the 
right  stuff,  and  with  the  day- 
light and  the  contact  with 
friendly  human  beings  her  cour- 
age returned,  and  she  went  to 
see  the  auctioneer  once  more, 
but  received  cold  comfort.  The 
man  had  been  warned  not  to 
hold  the  auction,  but  was  will- 
ing to,  provided  he  had  police 
protection  (he  saw  his  trade 
slipping  away  if  he  did  not), 
and  suggested  that  she  should 
go  and  see  the  D.I. 

Blake  listened  patiently   to 


her  tale  of  woe — he  already 
knew  the  part  she  had  played 
with  the  Cloonalla  Volunteers, 
but  liked  the  girl's  looks  and 
her  pluck,  and  at  the  end 
promised  her  protection  for 
the  auction,  but  warned  her 
that  he  could  not  protect  her 
afterwards,  and  advised  her 
to  get  out  of  the  country  as 
soon  as  she  could. 

Bridget  then  hired  a  car  and 
drove  out  to  Cloonalla  to  try 
and  collect  her  belongings.  The 
boxes  were  still  there  by  the 
roadside,  but  empty.  And  on 
going  on  to  her  farms  she 
found  that  the  fences  and  gates 
were  smashed  and  her  cattle 
gone.  She  tried  in  vain  to 
get  information  of  them,  but 
found  that  not  a  man,  woman, 
or  child  would  tell  her  any- 
thing. 

Eeturning  to  Ballybor,  she 
again  saw  Blake,  who  promised 
to  send  out  police  to  try  and 
find  her  cattle.  The  following 
day  the  police  went  out  to 
Cloonalla,  rounded  up  the  first 
score  of  men  they  met,  made 
them  build  up  the  fences,  mend 
the  gates,  and  lastly,  gave 
them  two  hours  to  return 
Bridget's  cattle. 

The  I.E.A.  now  turned  the 
full  blast  of  that  potent  weapon, 
the  boycott,  on  to  the  un- 
fortunate Bridget.  Not  a  soul 
would  or  rather  dare  speak  to 
her — at  any  rate  in  public. 
Little  children  meeting  her  in 
the  streets  or  country  roads 
ran  away,  fearing  lest  she 
might  cast  an  evil  eye  on 
them.  Shopkeepers  were  for- 
bidden to  supply  any  goods  to 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  E.I.  C. 


295 


her,  and  the  lodging  -  house 
people  would  have  put  her 
out  on  the  streets  but  for  the 
interference  of  the  D.I.  By 
this  time  Blake  was  deter- 
mined to  see  her  through,  and 
when  the  auctioneer  attempted 
to  rat,  made  him  think  better 
of  it  and  stick  to  his  agreement 
with  Bridget. 

The  day  of  the  auction  ar- 
rived, and  with  it  the  biggest 
crowd  Cloonalla  had  ever  seen. 
In  fact,  so  dense  was  the  throng 
that  when  Blake  drew  up  with 
the  auctioneer  and  Bridget,  he 
was  afraid  to  let  his  men  near 
the  crowd  lest  they  might  be 
rushed.  Standing  up  in  a 
Crossley,  he  ordered  the  people 
through  a  megaphone  to  form 
three  sides  of  a  square  facing 
the  road,  and,  as  soon  as  they 
had  complied  with  his  order, 
he  told  the  auctioneer  to  get 
out  and  carry  on  with  his 
work  on  the  fourth  side  of 
the  square.  This  he  did,  and, 
after  describing  the  value  and 
virtues  of  the  farms  in  the  usual 
flowery  language  of  his  kind, 
asked  for  a  bid. 

There  followed  a  deadly  si- 
lence of  fully  two  minutes. 
Again  the  auctioneer  called  for 
a  bid,  and  yet  a  third  time — 
not  a  man  in  the  huge  crowd 
dared  open  his  mouth.  Land- 
hunger  is  the  predominant  trait 
in  a  Western  peasant's  char- 
acter, and  many  men  in  that 
crowd  would  have  risked  their 
souls  for  Bridget's  farms  ;  but 
so  great  was  the  power,  or 
rather  the  fear  of  the  I.E.A., 
that  not  a  single  man  dared 
speak. 


Seeing  that  it  was  useless 
to  go  on  with  the  farce,  Blake 
ordered  the  auctioneer  to  re- 
turn to  the  car.  At  once  the 
crowd  broke  with  an  angry 
roar,  and  made  an  ugly  rush 
towards  the  road,  but  a  volley 
of  blank  in  the  air  quickly 
stopped  them,  and  they  turned 
to  scatter  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, while  the  police  party 
returned  to  Ballybor. 

That  night,  when  she  went 
to  bed  in  the  lodging-house, 
Bridget  locked  her  door  and 
piled  all  the  furniture  she  could 
against  it.  About  2  A.M.  some 
one  knocked  loudly  at  her  door 
and  bade  her  open,  but  she 
lay  still  and  gave  no  answer. 
She  could  then  hear  the  raiders 
entering  the  other  rooms  of 
the  house,  and  the  screams  of 
inmates,  followed  by  the  curses 
of  the  raiders. 

The  girl  lay  shaking  in  bed, 
knowing  that  it  was  only  a 
question  of  time  before  they 
came  again,  and  when  they  did 
it  gave  her  almost  a  sense  of 
relief.  This  time  they  did  not 
knock,  and  she  could  hear 
whispering,  followed  by  a  man 
wearing  rubber  soles  running 
down  the  passage,  and  then  a 
crash  as  he  hurled  himself 
against  her  door. 

The  door  was  rotten  and 
gave,  but  the  furniture  still 
held  it  up,  and  the  other  men 
then  put  their  shoulders  against 
it,  and  finally  it  gave:|way 
altogether,  and  the  whole  lot 
pitched  into  her  room  in  a  heap 
on  the  floor. 

As  Bridget  screamed,  the 
men  flashed  their  electric 


296 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


[Sept. 


torches  on  to  her,  and  by  the 
light  she  could  see  that  they 
all  wore  painted  white  masks, 
which  completely  covered  their 
faces  except  the  eyes  and 
mouth.  One  great  brute  then 
seized  her  by  the  hair,  and 
dragged  her  screaming  down 
the  stairs  and  into  the  street, 
where  the  others  held  her 
while  the  big  man  shaved  her 
hair  off  with  a  razor.  They 
then  lashed  her  wrists  and 
ankles,  gagged  her,  and  flung 
her  in  her  nightdress  into  a 
waiting  Ford,  which  disap- 
peared into  the  night. 

A  police  patrol,  guided  by 
the  screams,  arrived  on  the 
scene  just  as  the  Ford  was 
disappearing  in  the  direction 
of  Castleport.  Sending  a  con- 
stable back  to  the  barracks  for 
a  car  and  more  men,  the  ser- 
geant in  charge  searched  the 
lodging-house,  only  to  raise  a 
fresh  alarm  among  the  terrified 
inmates,  most  of  whom  were 
under  their  beds. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  car 
arrived,  and  the  police  raced  off 
after  the  Ford  as  fast  as  the 
Crossley  would  travel. 

For  some  time  the  police 
had  had  a  strong  suspicion  that 
a  creamery  about  half-way  be- 
tween Ballybor  and  Castleport 
had  been  frequently  used  by 
the  I.E.A.  as  a  detention  prison, 
and  as  they  drew  near  the  place 
they  saw  lights  disappear  from 
the  windows. 

After  surrounding  the  build- 
ing, the  sergeant  knocked  at 
the  door  and  received  no 
answer.  Being  afraid  to  delay 
lest  they  might  be  attacked,  he 


told  his  men  to  take  one  of 
the  two  thick  iron-bound  planks 
carried  under  the  body  of  the 
Crossley,  and  used  for  crossing 
trenches  on  the  roads,  and  to 
use  it  as  a  battering-ram  on 
the  door.  At  the  second  blow 
the  door  splintered,  and  a 
third  made  a  hole  large  enough 
for  the  police  to  pass  in. 

The  sergeant  now  advanced 
into  the  building,  revolver  in 
one  hand  and  torch  in  the 
other,  and  had  nearly  reached 
the  back  when  shots  and  shouts 
were  heard,  and  at  the  same 
time  he  saw  a  man  disappear- 
ing through  a  door  ahead  of 
him  and  fired. 

On  reaching  the  door  he  was 
met  by  his  own  men,  who  said 
that  three  men  had  tried  to 
escape  that  way,  and  that  they 
had  shot  two,  the  third 
escaping. 

They  then  searched  the  build- 
ing, and  found  Bridget  lying 
in  a  kind  of  coal-cellar,  half- 
dead  from  fright  and  exposure, 
and,  wrapping  her  in  a  police- 
man's greatcoat,  took  her  back 
to  the  lodging-house,  leaving  a 
guard  there  for  the  rest  of  the 
night. 

The  next  day  Bridget  fled 
to  England,  to  return  to 
America  from  Southampton. 
Nothing  in  this  world  would 
have  induced  her  to  spend 
another  night  in  Ireland. 

She  left  the  sale  of  her  farms 
in  the  hands  of  the  auctioneer, 
who,  to  his  great  surprise, 
some  time  afterwards  found  a 
buyer  at  a  low  figure  in  a  man 
who  came  from  the  North. 

The  police   saw  the   North- 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


297 


erner  into  his  new  home,  and 
left  him  there.  The  following 
morning  the  man  staggered 
into  the  Ballybor  barracks, 
and  when  he  had  sufficiently 
recovered,  he  told  Blake  that 
soon  after  he  had  gone  to  sleep 
he  was  awakened  by  volumes 
of  smoke,  and  on  getting  out 
of  bed  found  that  the  house 
was  on  fire.  Seizing  his  clothes, 
he  just  managed  to  get  out 
before  the  blazing  roof  fell  in. 


Outside  he  was  met  by  a 
roaring  crowd,  who  beat  him 
nearly  to  death  with  sticks,  and 
while  he  lay  on  the  ground  he 
could  hear  the  screams  of  his 
horses  and  cattle  being  burnt 
to  death  in  the  blazing  out- 
buildings. The  crowd  then  left 
him  for  dead,  well  pleased 
with  their  night's  work.  After 
some  hours  he  recovered  and 
managed  to  crawl  into  Bally- 
bor. 


XVI.   FATHEK  JOHN. 


The  tiny  village  of  Annagh 
lies  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
Slievenamoe  Mountains,  about 
fifteen  miles  due  east  of  Bally- 
bor, and  consists  of  one  dirty 
street  with,  roughly,  forty-nine 
miserable  tumble-down  hovels 
and  one  grand  slated  two- 
storied  house,  as  usual  the 
shop  and  abode  of  the  village 
gombeen  man,  who  also  kept 
the  Post  Office — not  because 
he  was  the  most  honest  man 
in  the  village,  but  because 
there  was  nobody  else  able  to 
do  so. 

A  good  many  years  ago,  on 
a  bitter  winter's  night,  a  tinker, 
answering  to  the  name  of  Bernie 
M'Andrew,  drove  his  ass-cart 
into  the  village  of  Annagh, 
and  called  at  the  only  shop 
to  know  if  there  were  any 
kettles  or  cans  to  be  mended. 
The  night  was  so  cold  and  wet 
that  the  old  shopkeeper,  in 
the  kindness  of  his  heart,  bade 
the  shivering  tinker  put  up  his 
ass  and  spend  the  night.  The 
tinker  stayed  and  never  left. 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXI. 


M'Andrew's  stock  -  in  -  trade, 
when  he  arrived  at  Annagh  on 
that  winter's  night,  consisted 
of  half  a  barrel  of  salt  herrings, 
a  kettle,  the  usual  tinker's 
soldering  outfit,  a  policeman's 
discarded  tunic,  and  the  rags 
he  stood  up  in.  Within  a  year 
M'Andrew  had  buried  the  old 
shopkeeper,  who  had  lived  alone 
for  years  and  was  beloved  by 
all,  and  reigned  in  his  place. 

Being  an  ambitious  tinker, 
M'Andrew  started  a  gombeen 
business  with  the  old  man's 
savings,  which  he  found  by 
chance  in  the  secret  drawer  of 
an  old  desk,  and  in  a  very 
short  time  became  the  best 
hated  and  most  feared  man  in 
the  district. 

At  first  M'Andrew  supported 
Sinn  Fein  enthusiastically,  but 
when  he  saw  law  and  order 
beginning  to  disappear,  being 
now  a  man  of  property,  he 
became  alarmed,  and  tried  to 
run  with  the  hare  and  the 
hounds. 

M'Andrew's  great  opponent 
L  2 


298 


Tales  oftheRJ.C. 


[Sept. 


was  the  young  parish  priest, 
Father  John,  who,  after  serving 
as  a  chaplain  with  the  British 
Army  in  France  with  great 
distinction — he  had  been  deco- 
rated for  bravery  in  the  field 
by  both  the  British  and  the 
French — returned  to  Ireland, 
having  seen  enough  bloodshed 
for  his  lifetime. 

Father  John  was  a  grand 
man  both  physically  and 
morally  and  in  the  right  sense 
of  the  words,  and  if  only  the 
majority  of  young  Irish  priests 
were  up  to  the  standard  of 
Father  John  there  would  be 
little  trouble  in  Ireland  to- 
day. 

When  he  became  the  parish 
priest  of  Armagh,  Father  John 
saw  at  once  that  M' Andrew 
was  fast  reducing  the  great 
majority  of  |  his  parishioners, 
who  were  poor  men  with  poorer 
mountain  land,  to  a  state  of 
slavery,  and  realised  that  it 
only  wanted  two  bad  years 
in  succession  to  put  the  whole 
parish  under  the  gombeen  man's 
thumb. 

At  first  he  tried  to  keep  the 
farmers  away  from  M'Andrew's 
shop  ;  but  this  they  resented, 
as  it  entailed  a  journey  of  many 
miles  to  the  nearest  town,  and 
then  they  had  to  pay  nearly 
as  much  as  to  M'Andrew. 
Next  he  denounced  M'Andrew 
and  his  evil  practices  from  the 
altar,  warning  the  people  of  the 
consequences  ;  but  in  spite  of 
all  the  priest  could  do  or  say 
the  -gombeen  man  flourished. 

From  the  very  first  Father 
John   opposed   the   Sinn   Fein 


movement  both  by  word  and 
deed,  and  when  the  first  Sinn 
Fein  organisers  appeared  in  his 
parish  he  quickly  hunted  them 
away ;  but  before  he  knew 
what  was  happening  practically 
every  young  man  in  the  parish 
had  been  enrolled,  whether  he 
liked  it  or  not,  as  a  soldier  in 
the  I.E.A.  M'Andrew  was 
quick  to  seize  his  chance  of 
revenge,  telling  the  people  that 
the  priest  was  a  secret  agent  of 
theBritish  Government — hadn't 
he  served  in  the  British  Army 
and  taken  the  pay  of  the  British 
Government,  an  enemy  of  the 
people  ? — and  that  he  was  doing 
his  best  to  stand  between  them 
and  liberty.  In  a  week  Father 
John  was  practically  an  out- 
law in  his  own  parish,  and 
M'Andrew  became  the  popular 
hero. 

Though  he  still  officiated  in 
the  chapel,  Sinn  Fein  saw  to  it 
that  he  was  paid  no  dues.  For 
nearly  two  years  this  state  of 
affairs  continued,  and  it  would 
have  been  impossible  for  the 
priest  to  live  if  the  older  and 
more  sober  members  of  his 
flock  had  not  come  to  his  house 
secretly  in  the  dead  of  night 
and  paid  him  their  dues. 

One  day,  when  feeling  ran 
very  high,  Father  John  opened 
his  daily  paper  to  see  his  own 
death  reported,  and  a  long 
obituary  notice,  probably  the 
handiwork  of  M'Andrew. 

It  was  a  situation  common  in 
Ireland — the  peasants  blind  to 
the  virtues  of  their  truest  friend, 
and  making  a  popular  idol  of 
their  worst  enemy :  it  is  a  sad 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


299 


thing  that  many  Irishmen  will 
always  insist  in  believing  what 
they  wish  to  believe. 

Father  John  was  by  nature 
a  kindly  and  genial  man,  a 
lover  of  sport,  of  a  good  horse, 
and  of  the  society  of  men,  and 
those  two  years  must  have 
been  a  perfect  hell  on  earth  for 
him.  Not  that  any  one  was 
ever  openly  rude  to  him  ;  they 
just  sent  him  to  Coventry  and 
kept  him  there,  hoping  to 
break  his  heart,  and  that  by 
refusing  to  pay  him  any  dues 
they  would  gradually  freeze 
him  out,  and  in  his  place  would 
come  one  of  those  fire-eating 
young  priests  who  would  lead 
them  to  victory  and  freedom. 

The  summer  of  1920  was 
wet  and  cold,  with  frosty  nights 
during  every  month  except 
July.  Now,  if  your  potatoes 
grow  in  boggy  land,  and  there 
comes  heavy  rain  followed  by 
a  night's  frost,  not  once  but 
several  times,  you  will  have  no 
potatoes,  and  probably  very 
little  crop  of  any  kind.  And 
if  your  living  depends  on  the 
potato  crop,  you  stand  a  good 
chance  of  starving,  unless  the 
gombeen  man  will  come  to 
your  assistance. 

By  November  the  whole  par- 
ish of  Annagh  practically  be- 
longed to  M' Andrew,  who  held 
a  mortgage  on  nearly  every 
acre  of  tenanted  land,  and 
proceeded  to  bully  the  people 
to  his  heart's  content. 

On  a  Sunday  morning  in 
December,  at  about  10  o'clock, 
the  hour  when  the  village 
usually  began  to  come  to  life, 


the  inhabitants  were  startled 
by  the  screams  of  a  woman, 
and  when  they  rushed  to 
their  doors  saw  M' Andrew's 
servant  running  out  of  the 
village  towards  Father  John's 
house.  M'Andrew  had  been 
murdered  during  the  night  with- 
out a  sound,  and  the  servant 
had  no  idea  of  what  had  hap- 
pened until  she  went  to  his 
room  to  see  why  he  had  not 
got  up.  All  M'Andrew's  books 
had  been  burnt,  and  after- 
wards the  murderers  must  have 
cursed  the  day  they  did  not 
set  a  light  to  the  house  as 
well. 

On  the  next  day  the  village 
woke  up  to  find  a  company 
of  Auxiliaries  billeted  in 
M'Andrew's  house  and  the  yard 
full  of  their  cars — a  case  of  out 
of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire. 

For  some  time  past  the 
police  had  known  that  men  on 
the  run  were  hiding  in  the 
mountains  near  Annagh  ;  but 
though  the  area  came  within 
Blake's  district,  it  was  impos- 
sible to  keep  any  control  over 
it,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
Owenmore  river  and  the  Slie- 
venamoe  Mountains  lay  be- 
tween it  and  Ballybor. 

The  Auxiliaries  spent  the 
day  fortifying  M'Andrew's 
house,  and  that  night  started 
operations,  and  the  inhabitants 
soon  realised  that  the  British 
Empire  was  not  yet  an  "  also 
ran." 

Just  as  it  was  getting  dark 
the  Auxiliaries  in  Crossleys 
would  suddenly  burst  out  of 
M'Andrew's  yard,  travel  per- 


300 


Tales  of  the  E.I.C. 


[Sept. 


haps  five  or  ten  miles  at  racing 
speed,  and  then  surround  and 
round  up  a  village  or  district, 
so  that  the  numerous  gunmen 
who  had  come  from  the  South 
for  a  rest  cure  found  it  im- 
possible to  get  any  sleep  at 
all. 

The  local  Volunteers  at  once 
sent  an  S.O.S.  to  Dublin,  and 
received  the  comforting  answer 
that  a  flying  column  would 
arrive  shortly  in  the  district 
and  deal  effectively  with  the 
Auxiliaries.  In  the  meanwhile 
they  were  to  harass  the  enemy 
by  every  means  in  their  power 
and  carry  on  a  warfare  of 
attrition — in  other  words,  if 
they  found  one  or  two  Cadets 
alone — if  unarmed  so  much  the 
better — they  were  to  murder 
them. 

At  first  the  local  Volunteers 
were  very  much  afraid  of  the 
Auxiliaries,  Sinn  Fein  propa- 
ganda having  taught  them  to 
expect  nothing  but  murder, 
rape,  and  looting  from  the 
"  scum  of  English  prisons  and 
asylums  "  ;  but  after  a  few 
days  had  passed  and  nothing 
dreadful  happened  to  man  or 
woman,  they  took  heart  once 
more  and  started  their  usual 
warfare. 

The  Auxiliaries  were  com- 
manded by  a  Major  Jones,  and 
on  the  Sunday  following  their 
arrival  in  Armagh  Jones  left 
alone  in  a  Ford  at  an  early 
hour  to  see  Blake  in  Ballybor. 
The  road  crosses  the  mountains 
through  a  narrow  pass,  and 
near  the  top  of  the  pass  there 
is  a  small  chapel,  a  school,  a 


pub,  and  a  few  scattered  cot- 
tages. 

On  his  return  Jones  passed 
this  chapel  as  the  people  were 
coming  out  from  Mass,  -blew 
his  horn,  and  slowed  up.  After 
passing  through  the  crowd  he 
noticed  a  group  of  youths 
standing  on  the  right  side  of 
the  road,  and  opened  his  throttle 
wide,  thereby  probably  saving 
his  life. 

When  the  car  was  within  ten 
yards  of  the  group  every  man 
drew  a  pistol,  and  it  seemed  to 
Jones  as  though  he  was  flying 
through  a  shower  of  bullets. 
However,  though  the  car  was 
riddled,  and  had  any  one  been 
sitting  in  the  other  three  seats 
they  would  all  have  been  killed, 
Jones  found  himself  uninjured, 
and  the  old  "  tin  Lizzie,"  re- 
sponding well  to  the  throttle, 
flew  down  the  hill  at  twice  the 
pace  Henry  Ford  ever  meant 
her  to  travel  at. 

That  evening  Father  John 
called  on  Jones  and  apologised 
for  the  outrage,  and  Jones  at 
once  fell  under  the  charm  of 
the  priest.  Probably  h^s  as- 
tonishment at  Father  John's 
visit  had  something  to  do  with 
it,  but  in  the  days  to  come, 
when  Father  John  supported 
his  words  by  deeds,  Jones  learnt 
that  his  first  impression  had 
been  a  correct  one. 

Eeturning  in  the  early  hours 
of  the  morning  from  a  raiding 
expedition  to  the  south  of 
Armagh,  the  Auxiliaries  were 
surprised  to  see  a  tall  priest 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
road  and  holding  up  his  hand. 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


301 


Fearing  a  trap — there  was  a 
blind  corner  just  behind  where 
the  priest  was  standing — they 
stopped  about  two  hundred 
yards  off  and  beckoned  to  the 
priest  to  advance. 

They  were  still  more  sur- 
prised to  find  that  the  tall 
priest  was  Father  John,  who, 
having  received  information 
after  they  had  started  that 
the  Volunteers  were  going  to 
lay  trees  across  the  road  at 
this  corner  in  the  hope  of 
smashing  up  the  Auxiliary  cars, 
had  spent  the  whole  night 
walking  up  and  down  the  road 
in  order  that  he  might  warn 
them  of  their  danger. 

Father  John  drove  back  to 
Annagh  with  the  Cadets,  and 
by  the  time  they  reached  the 
village  every  Cadet  swore  that 
the  priest  was  the  finest  man 
they  had  yet  met  in  Ireland, 
and  they  didn't  believe  there 
was  a  finer  one. 

From  that  on  Father  John 
accompanied  the  Auxiliaries  on 
many  a  stunt,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  he  gave  them  every 
help  in  his  power  and  all  in- 
formation which  reached  him  ; 
but  though  he  would  travel 
anywhere  with  them,  he  would 
never  accept  hospitality  from 
them,  nor  would  he  enter 
M'Andrew's  house. 

About  six  miles  from  Annagh, 
in  a  hollow  of  the  mountains, 
is  the  tiny  village  of  Glenmuck, 
completely  isolated  from  the 
rest  of  the  world,  and  so  situ- 
ated that  its  presence  was  quite 
hidden  until  you  literally  walked 
on  top  of  it.  None  of  the  in- 


habitants, who  lived  chiefly  by 
making  poteen  in  the  winter 
time  and  going  to  England  as 
harvesters  in  the  summer,  pos- 
sessed a  cart,  for  the  very  good 
reason  that  the  nearest  so-called 
third-class  road  was  five  miles 
away,  and  only  a  goat  track 
passed  within  a  mile  of  the 
place. 

Here  in  due  course  arrived 
the  flying  column  of  the  I.E.A., 
seventy  strong,  every  man 
mounted  on  a  bicycle  and 
armed  with  a  British  service 
rifle  and  as  many  pistols  as 
he  could  find  room  for.  They 
were  also  the  proud  possessors 
of  a  Lewis  gun. 

As  usual,  the  gunmen  were 
billeted  so  many  in  each  farm, 
and  after  being  badly  harassed 
for  some  time  in  the  South, 
Glenmuck  seemed  like  Paradise 
to  them.  The  nights  were 
spent  in  dancing,  card-playing, 
and  drinking  poteen.  Some- 
where about  noon  the  gunmen 
got  up,  and  after  breakfast 
visited  each  other  in  their  dif- 
ferent billets  after  the  fashion 
of  our  troops  in  France,  walk- 
ing about  openly  with  their 
rifles  slung  over  their  shoulders. 
The  Lewis  gun  team  passed 
their  days  teaching  the  boys 
and  girls  of  the  village  the 
mechanism  of  the  Lewis  gun. 

The  leader's  idea  was  to 
give  his  men  much-needed  rest 
and  amusement  for  a  few  days, 
and  then  to  try  and  ambush 
the  Auxiliaries  ;  and  probably 
they  could  have  spent  quite  a 
long  time  resting  here  without 
the  Auxiliaries  having  the 


302 


Tales  oftheR.I.C. 


[Sept. 


slightest  suspicion  of  their  near 
presence.  But  war  seems  to 
be  made  up  so  largely  of  "  ifs," 
and  the  "  if "  in  this  case 
proved  to  be  Father  John. 

When  out  riding  on  his  rounds 
one  morning,  the  priest  noticed 
that  most  of  the  young  people 
of  his  parish  appeared  to  be 
gravitating  in  their  best  clothes 
towards  Glenmuck,  and  sus- 
pecting a  poteen  orgy,  he 
sternly  commanded  a  young 
damsel  to  tell  him  why  she 
was  going  to  Glenmuck,  and 
the  girl  told  him.  Father  John 
rode  straight  back  to  Annagh, 
to  be  just  in  time  to  stop 
Jones  from  starting  off  on  a 
raid  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Jones  first  sent  off  a  Cadet 
on  a  motor  bicycle  to  Blake 
at  Ballybor,  sending  him  a 
verbal  outline  of  his  plan  of 
attack  on  Glenmuck,  and  ask- 
ing him  to  co-operate  with  the 
Auxiliaries  from  the  other  side 
of  the  mountains.  He  then 
turned  out  every  Cadet  in  the 
place,  left  M'Andrew's  house 
empty  to  take  care  of  itself, 
and  made  off  at  full  speed  in 
the  direction  of  Glenmuck  with 
the  priest  acting  as  guide. 

"They  reached  the  nearest 
point  to  Glenmuck  on  the  road 
at  noon,  and  after  leaving  a 
small  guard  over  the  Crossleys, 
the  rest  of  the  company  set 
out  in  open  order  across  the 
mountain  for  the  flying  col- 
umn's lair. 

The  gunmen  had  had  great 
luck  in  the  South  for  a  long 
time,  and  their  luck  still  held. 
A  youth,  making  his  way  across 


country  to  get  a  sight  of  the 
wonderful  gunmen,  happened 
to  look  behind  him  when  on 
top  of  a  rise,  and  saw  about  a 
mile  away  the  oncoming  Auxil- 
iaries. Being  a  sharp  youth 
he  realised  who  they  were, 
and  ran  for  the  village  as  fast 
as  his  young  legs  would  carry 
him,  and  by  chance  ran  straight 
into  the  leader  when  he  entered 
the  outskirts  of  the  place. 

Beaching  the  hill  above  the 
village  the  Auxiliaries  made  a 
last  desperate  rush  down  the 
slope,  in  the  hope  of  catching 
the  gunmen  scattered  in  the 
different  cottages,  and  so  mop- 
ping them  up  before  they  could 
get  together  ;  but  by  this  time 
the  flying  column  had  taken 
up  positions  on  the  top  of  the 
far  slope  above  the  village, 
and  as  the  Cadets  reached  the 
cottages  they  came  under  heavy 
machine-gun  fire. 

Quickly  realising  what  had 
happened,  Jones  ordered  one 
platoon  to  make  a  frontal 
attack  on  the  gunmen's  posi- 
tion, while  he  sent  a  second 
and  third  platoon  to  try  to 
work  round  their  flanks  ;  the 
fourth  platoon  he  kept  with 
him  under  cover  in  the  village. 

Then  followed  a  very  pretty 
fight  for  an  hour,  by  which 
time  the  gunmen,  like  the 
Boers  of  old,  thought  it  was 
time  to  move  on  and  take 
up  a  position  on  the  next 
ridge. 

Jones  knew  that  if  he  could 
only  keep  in  close  touch  with 
the  flying  column  it  was  only 
a  question  of  time  before  Blake, 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  E.I.C. 


303 


who  would  be  guided  by  the 
heavy  firing,  would  attack  them 
in  the  rear,  and  that  they  would 
then  stand  a  good  chance  of 
bagging  the  whole  lot.  The 
fight  gradually  worked  across 
the  mountains,  the  gunmen 
retreating  from  ridge  to  ridge, 
while  the  Cadets  stuck  to  them 
like  grim  death,  always  striving 
to  pin  them  down,  and  when 
they  retreated  to  drive  them 
in  the  direction  from  which 
Blake  ought  to  appear. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  heavy 
shooting  suddenly  broke  out 
behind  the  gunmen,  and  the 
Cadets  redoubled  their  efforts 
to  close  with  them. 

By  this  time  the  opposing 
forces  had  worked  their  way 
down  the  western  slopes  of  the 
mountains  almost  as  far  as  the 
high  upland  bogs,  and  directly 
the  gunmen  realised  that  they 
were  likely  to  be  surrounded, 
they  broke  and  fled  down  a 
valley,  closely  pursued  by  police 
and  Cadets.  Unfortunately  the 
light  was  getting  bad,  and  the 
gunmen's  luck  still  held  good. 
When  they  had  gone  about  a 
mile,  they  came  across  a  big 
party  of  country  people  with 
whom  they  mixed,  and  when 
the  police  came  up  with  them 
it  was  impossible  to  tell  gun- 
men from  peasants — probably 
the  former  were  busily  engaged 
cutting  turf  while  the  latter 
looked  on.  Their  arms  were 
passed  to  the  women,  who  hid 
the  rifles  in  the  heather  and 
secreted  the  pistols  and  am- 
munition on  their  persons. 
During  the  whole  long  fight 


Father  John  attended  to 
wounded  Cadet  and  gunman 
alike,  always  to  be  seen  where 
the  fight  was  hottest ;  and 
though  his  calling  was  con- 
spicuous from  his  clothes  and 
white  collar,  yet  on  several 
occasions  the  gunmen  deliber- 
ately fired  on  him  when  attend- 
ing to  a  wounded  Cadet. 

After  the  battle  of  Glen- 
muck  the  flying  column  was 
seen  no  more  in  that  district, 
and  for  weeks  the  local  Volun- 
teers gave  Jones  no  trouble. 

Time  after  time  Jones  had 
received  information  that  cer- 
tain young  men  in  and  about 
Annagh  carried  arms,  but  when- 
ever they  were  surprised  in  a 
shop  or  pub  no  arms  could  be 
found  on  them,  and  it  was 
noticed  that  they  always  moved 
about  in  the  company  of  cer- 
tain girls. 

Soon  after  the  battle  of 
Glenmuck  the  belles  of  the 
district  received  the  shock  of 
their  lives  when  shopping  in 
a  town  some  miles  away  with 
these  young  men.  About  noon 
four  Crossley  loads  of  Cadets 
suddenly  dashed  into  the  town 
with  two  women  searchers 
dressed  in  dark-blue  uniforms, 
and  that  day  the  first  real 
haul  of  revolvers  and  auto- 
matics was  made.  As  usual, 
the  men  passed  their  arms  to 
the  girls  directly  they  saw  the 
Auxiliaries  arrive,  but  this  time 
no  notice  was  taken  of  the 
men,  while  the  girls,  who  on 
former  occasions  had  stood 
looking  on  and  jeering  at 
the  Cadets,  found  themselves 


304 


Tales  of  the  B.I.G. 


[Sept. 


quickly  rounded  up,  and  the 
women  searchers  soon  did  the 
rest. 

After  this  the  moral  effect 
of  the  women  searchers  was  so 
great  that  not  a  girl  in  the  dis- 
trict dare  carry  arms  or  even 
despatches.  The  girls  were  not 
sure  whether  the  searchers  were 
women  or  young  Cadets  dressed 
up  as  women,  and  this  uncer- 
tainty greatly  increased  their 
alarm. 

About  six  weeks  later  Jones 
found  out  that  a  much-wanted 
Dublin  gunman,  called  Foy, 
who  had  murdered  at  least 
two  British  officers  in  cold 
blood,  was  hidden  in  the  dis- 
trict, and  was  being  fed  by  his 
mother  and  sister,  who  lived 
about  two  miles  from  Annagh. 
Time  after  time  the  Cadets 
tried  to  surprise  Mrs  Foy  or 
her  daughter  carrying  food  to 
Foy's  hiding-place,  but  always 
in  vain. 

Foy's  presence  soon  began 
to  be  felt  in  the  district.  Two 
Cadets,  returning  off  leave  in 


mufti  and  unarmed,  were  taken 
out  of  the  train  and  murdered 
just  outside  the  station,  their 
bodies  being  left  there  for  all 
who  passed  to  see,  and  no  man 
dared  to  touch  the  bodies  until 
the  police  arrived.  Next  the 
Cadets  were  ambushed  twice 
in  one  week,  both  times  un- 
successfully. 

Father  John,  who  had  hoped 
that  at  last  his  parish  had 
returned  to  the  paths  of  peace, 
was  furious,  and  denounced 
from  the  altar  all  men  and 
women  who  shielded  mur- 
derers. Finally,  after  the  mur- 
der of  the  two  Cadets,  he  refused 
Holy  Communion  to  Mrs  Foy 
and  her  daughter,  which  is  a 
very  serious  step  for  a  priest 
to  take. 

And  when  remonstrated  with, 
he  replied  that,  sooner  than 
not  denounce  and  punish  mur- 
derers and  those  who  aided 
and  abetted  them,  he  would 
throw  off  his  coat  and  become 
an  Auxiliary.  More  power  to 
you,  Father  John ! 


XVII.    TEE  BOG   CEMETERY. 


After  many  months  of  the 
Sinn  Fein  Terror,  the  town  of 
Ballybor  became  a  place  of 
shadows  and  whispers.  At 
night-time  men  saw  shadows, 
real  and  unreal,  moving  and 
stationary,  at  every  corner  of 
the  streets  and  in  every  lane  ; 
and  during  the  day-time,  when 
men  met  in  the  streets,  they 
would  only  speak  in  low  whis- 
pers to  each  other,  and  always 


keeping    one    eye    over    their 
shoulder. 

Public  opinion  withered  and 
died.  Sinn  Fein  had  no  use 
for  it — men  became  completely 
detached,  mere  spectators  of  the 
unchecked  and  uncondemned 
orgy  of  crime  ;  like  the  younger 
generation  in  England,  who 
waste  a  large  part  of  their 
lives  in  picture-houses,  gazing 
at  films  of  vice  and  crime. 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  E.I.C. 


305 


And  if  a  man  had  been  mur- 
dered in  the  main  street  at 
Ballybor  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  not  a  hand  would  have 
been  raised  to  save  the  victim 
— the  inhabitants  would  simply 
have  regarded  the  incident  in 
the  light  of  a  film,  and  then 
gone  home  to  their  dinners. 

The  oft-heard  remark  when 
a  policeman  has  been  mur- 
dered, "  that  it  served  him 
right  for  joining  the  E.I.C. ," 
epitomises  the  attitude  of  the 
majority  of  the  Irish  public 
towards  so  -  called  "  political 
murder."  As  a  rule,  an  Irish- 
man, on  being  asked  if  there 
was  any  news  in  the  paper, 
would  reply,  "  No,  only  the 
usual  columns  of  murders  and 
outrages." 

Walter  Drake,  as  his  name 
implies,  was  descended  from 
an  Elizabethan  soldier  who 
had  settled  in  the  West  of 
Ireland  and  built  a  large  house 
about  two  miles  from  Ballybor, 
and  here  for  many  generations 
the  Drakes  had  lived,  hunted, 
and  farmed. 

Walter  Drake  had  at  an 
early  age  entered  the  army 
through  Sandhurst,  but  retired 
after  six  years'  service  on  the 
death  of  his  father,  and  since 
then  had  lived  at  the  Manor, 
spending  a  large  part  of  his 
time  helping  his  poorer  neigh- 
bours in  every  way  in  his 
power :  a  quiet  man  of  a 
retiring  nature,  a  popular  mag- 
istrate, and  a  good  neighbour, 
but  a  determined  Loyalist. 
Called  up  again  in  August  1914, 
he  had  served  throughout  the 


war  with  distinction  in  his  old 
regiment,  to  return  once  more 
to  his  home. 

Had  Drake  lived  in  any 
civilised  country  in  the  world, 
he  would  most  assuredly  have 
died  in  his  bed  when  his  time 
came,  esteemed  by  all  as  a 
just,  kindly,  and  honourable 
man ;  but,  as  in  war,  the  best 
seem  to  be  always  taken,  so 
it  has  been  in  Ireland.  His 
only  crimes  appear  to  have 
been  that  he  continued  to  act 
as  a  magistrate  after  receiving 
an  order  from  the  I.E. A.  to 
resign  his  commission  of  the 
peace,  and  devoting  himself  to 
helping  ex-soldiers  in  the  town 
to  get  their  pensions  and  trying 
to  get  grants  of  land  for  such 
as  were  worthy.  The  granting 
of  land  to  ex-soldiers  was 
bitterly  opposed  by  the  Trans- 
port Union,  who  wanted  every 
acre  for  their  own  landless 
members.  And  probably  being 
a  personal  friend  of  Blake's 
and  beloved  by  the  police 
force,  would  constitute  another 
crime  in  the  eyes  of  the  I.E. A. 

On  a  certain  Monday  night 
the  constable  on  duty  at  Bally- 
bor Barracks  reported  that  a 
great  light  could  be  seen  in  the 
sky,  and  thought  there  must 
be  a  big  fire  not  far  from  the 
town.  Going  to  the  top  of  the 
barracks,  Blake  at  once  saw 
that  a  large  house  must  be  on 
fire,  and  judging  from  the 
direction  the  chances  were  that 
it  was  the  Manor.  Taking  a 
dozen  men  in  a  Crossley,  he 
at  once  went  off  there,  to  find 
the  grand  old  house  burning 


306 


Tales  of  the  E.I.  C. 


[Sept. 


fiercely,  and  by  the  light  of 
the  fire  he  could  make  out  a 
pathetic  group  of  figures  on 
the  tennis-ground  in  front  of 
the  house. 

The  first  person  whom  Blake 
met  was  the  old  butler,  who 
told  a  tale  now  familiar  in 
many  parts  of  Ireland  to-day. 
The  household  had  retired  at 
their  usual  hour  of  eleven, 
after  which  the  butler  had 
carefully  closed  up  the  house 
and  gone  to  the  servants'  hall 
to  smoke  a  pipe  before  turning 
in.  Soon  afterwards  he  heard 
a  loud  knocking  at  the  front 
door,  followed  by  a  volley  of 
shots,  some  of  which  must 
have  been  fired  through  the 
windows,  as  he  could  hear  the 
sound  of  falling  glass. 

The  old  man  went  and  opened 
the  front  door,  to  be  met  by 
a  ring  of  rifles,  shot-guns, 
pistols,  and  electric  torches, 
behind  which  he  could  make 
out  the  usual  mob  of  masked 
ruffians.  A  strange  voice  then 
demanded  Major  Drake  ;  and 
when  the  butler  told  them 
that  the  Major  had  gone  to 
Dublin  by  the  mail  that  day, 
a  man  handed  him  a  letter 
telling  him  that  in  ten  minutes' 
time  they  were  going  to  burn 
the  house  to  the  ground,  and 
that  he  had  better  warn  the 
inmates  if  he  didn't  want  them 
roasted  alive. 

The  butler  at  once  took  the 
letter  to  Miss  Drake,  who  read 
the  following  pleasant  com- 
munication addressed  to  her 
brother  : — 

"  Major    Drake, — Owing    to 


your  aggressively  anti-Irish  at- 
titude, we  have  received  orders 
to  burn  your  house  to  the 
ground.  You  will  be  given 
ten  minutes  to  collect  your 
clothes.  By  order. — I.E.A." 

The  girl  hurriedly  slipped  on 
a  dressing-gown,  and  went  down 
to  the  haU  to  find  it  full  of  the 
brutes  sprawling  in  chairs  and 
smoking.  The  leader  came  for- 
ward to  speak  to  her,  and  she 
begged  him  to  have  mercy  on 
her  mother,  who  was  old  and 
in  feeble  health,  and  who  would 
surely  be  killed  by  the  shock 
of  having  her  house  burnt  and 
being  turned  out  into  the 
night ;  and  implored  the  man 
to  take  anything  he  wanted, 
offering  him  all  the  money  she 
had  and  her  mother's  jewellery. 
For  answer  the  man  pulled 
out  his  watch,  and  said  that 
she  had  exactly  ten  minutes  to 
get  her  old  English  mother  out 
of  the  house,  no  more  and  no 
less. 

Seeing  that  it  was  useless  to 
argue  with  the  brute,  Miss 
Drake  called  the  butler  and 
her  mother's  maid,  woke  up 
the  old  lady,  dressed  her  the 
best  way  they  could,  and  as 
the  household  passed  out 
through  the  central  hall,  they 
saw  men  sprinkling  the  furni- 
ture and  carpets  with  petrol. 
Hardly  had  they  reached  the 
lawn  when  the  men  rushed 
out  past  them.  There  was  a 
violent  explosion  (petrol-tins 
bursting),  and  the  house  seemed 
to  burst  into  flames  in  an 
instant.  And  here  they  re- 
mained on  the  tennis-ground, 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  B.I.C. 


307 


helpless  and  hopeless,  their 
only  crime  Loyalty,  until  Blake 
found  them  there,  silently 
crying. 

Seeing  that  the  house  was 
gone,  that,  in  fact,  it  was  im- 
possible to  save  anything,  Blake 
put  the  Drakes  into  the  Cross- 
ley,  with  the  old  butler  and 
the  servants,  and  drove  them 
to  a  hotel  in  the  town. 

Drake  had  been  seen  motor- 
ing through  Ballybor  to  the 
station  on  the  Monday,  and 
by  that  evening  there  was  a 
whisper  in  the  town  that  some- 
thing had  happened  to  him, 
but  what  the  something  was 
the  whisper  did  not  mention. 
During  Tuesday  rumour  lay 
dormant.  On  Wednesday,  how- 
ever, rumour  awoke  and  rapidly 
made  up  for  lost  time,  and  by 
that  evening  it  was  freely 
whispered  throughout  the  town 
that  Drake  had  joined  the 
I.R.A.  ;  that  he  had  bolted 
to  Canada  to  escape  from  the 
I.E.A.,  only  to  be  taken  out 
of  the  train  on  his  way  to 
Dublin  by  a  flying  column  of 
gunmen,  tried  by  a  court-mar- 
tial, condemned,  and  executed ; 
that  he  had  gone  to  Dublin 
to  join  the  Auxiliaries  ;  and 
lastly,  that  he  had  gone  to 
London  to  get  married. 

On  Wednesday  morning  Miss 
Drake,  whose  poor  old  mother 
lay  in  a  state  of  collapse  at 
the  hotel,  came  to  Blake  in 
great  distress,  and  implored 
him  to  find  her  brother.  She 
was  sure  something  must  have 
happened  to  him,  as  she  had 
wired  twice,  and  then,  getting 


no  reply,  had  wired  to  the 
secretary  of  his  club,  where 
he  had  intended  staying,  and 
from  whom  an  answer  had 
just  come  to  say  Major  Drake 
had  not  arrived. 

Blake  promised  to  do  all  he 
could,  and  started  off  at  once 
to  the  station  to  make  in- 
quiries. Having  found  out 
that  Drake  actually  did  leave 
Ballybor  by  the  mail  train  on 
Monday,  he  next  sent  an  urgent 
cipher  message  to  the  author- 
ities in  Dublin,  hoping  they 
would  be  able  to  trace  him 
there.  Blake  then  set  out 
for  Knockshinnagh,  the  £  next 
station  on  the  line  to  Dublin, 
about  a  mile  from  the  small 
town  of  the  same  name,  and 
situated  in  the  midst  of  a  vast 
bog,  which  stretches  towards 
the  foot  of  the  mountains  to 
the  east  and  west,  and  runs 
nearly  as  far  as  Ballybor. 
Here,  acting  on  the  assump- 
tion that  the  rumour  of  Drake 
having  left  the  mail  train  at 
this  station  was  correct,  Blake 
carefully  interrogated  the 
station-master  and  the  three 
porters.  One  and  all  denied 
having  seen  Drake  on  the  day 
in  question — one  porter,  who 
had  been  there  years,  adding 
inconsequently  that  he  did  not 
even  know  him  by  sight,  and 
thereby  making  Blake  sure  that 
he  was  on  the  right  track  at  last. 

That  night  Blake  again 
visited  the  station-master  at 
his  house  in  the  station  after 
midnight ;  and  pretending  that 
he  knew  for  certain  that  Drake 
had  left  the  train  at  Knock- 


308 


Tales  oftkeRJ.C. 


[Sept. 


shinnagh,  warned  the  man  of 
the  serious  consequences  of 
refusing  to  give  information. 
1  A.M.  is  an  unpleasant  hour  to 
interview  armed  men,  and 
thinking  that  the  police  were 
uncomfortably  near  and  the 
I.E. A.  in  the  dim  distance,  the 
station-master  made  a  full  con- 
fession. 

A  few  minutes  before  the 
limited  mail  arrived  at  Knock- 
shinnagh  on  Monday,  three 
armed  and  masked  men  had 
driven  up  in  a  Ford  car,  and 
directly  the  train  pulled  up 
had  made  straight  for  the 
carriage  in  which  Drake  was 
travelling.  At  once  they  seized 
him,  and  dragged  him,  strug- 
gling, out  of  the  carriage  to 
the  car,  and  then  drove  off 
rapidly  in  the  direction  of 
Ballybor.  Before  the  train 
pulled  out,  a  stranger  in  a 
third-class  carriage  warned  the 
station-master,  in  the  name 
of  the  I.E.A.,  to  give  no 
information  to  any  one.  As 
no  further  information  could 
be  got  from  the  station-master, 
Blake  returned  to  the  barracks, 
and  set  out  again  for  Knock- 
shinnagh  after  breakfast,  to 
endeavour  to  trace  the  Ford 
from  there. 

The  road  from  Knockshin- 
nagh  to  Ballybor  runs  practi- 
cally the  whole  way  through  a 
vast  bog,  which  is  drained  by 
the  Owenmore  river,  with  a 
deep  fringe  of  water-meadows 
on  each  bank.  At  intervals 
side  roads  connect  up  the  vil- 
lages on  the  higher  ground 
near  the  mountains  with  the 
main  road. 


The  police  had  covered  nearly 
three  miles  of  the  road  without 
getting  any  news  of  Drake  or 
the  Ford,  when  a  sharp-eyed 
sergeant  noticed  the  narrow 
tracks  of  a  Ford  turning  up 
one  of  these  side  roads  to  the 
east.  The  car  had  turned  the 
corner  sharply,  leaving  a  deep 
track  of  two  wheels  in  the  soft 
ground  on  the  edge  of  the 
road. 

Turning  down  this  side  road, 
they  proceeded  slowly  with- 
out seeing  any  further  car- 
tracks  until  they  came  to  a 
long  low  cottage,  standing  back 
about  fifteen  yards  from  the 
road.  Here  they  found  tracks 
which  showed  that  the  car  had 
pulled  up  at  the  door  of  the 
cottage,  turned,  and  returned 
towards  the  main  road. 

Leaving  his  men  outside, 
Blake  entered  with  a  sergeant, 
in  time  to  see  the  owner 
bolting  out  of  the  back  door, 
only  to  be  caught  by  the  ser- 
geant and  brought  back.  The 
man  said  his  name  was  Moran, 
and  protested  his  loyalty  loudly 
before  Blake  could  ask  him  a 
question. 

In  Ireland  if  you  want  in- 
formation badly,  often  the  best 
way  to  obtain  it  is  to  bluff 
your  opponent  into  believing 
that  you  already  know  part 
of  it,  leaving  him  to  guess  as 
to  how  much  you  know.  Blake 
took  this  line  of  attack  with 
Moran,  and  asked  him  the 
names  of  the  four  men  who 
had  called  at  his  cottage  on 
the  previous  Monday  in  a  car. 
But  Moran  knew  the  game  as 
well  as  Blake,  and  denied  that 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


309 


any  car  had  been  to  his  house 
lately,  or  indeed  at  any  time, 
whereby  Blake  knew  that  the 
man  lied,  and  had  something 
to  conceal. 

He  then  threatened  Moran 
that  if  he  did  not  tell  all  he 
knew  he  would  arrest  him  and 
keep  him  until  he  did,  and  at 
the  same  time  took  him  out- 
side and  pointed  out  the  old 
tracks  of  a  car  in  front  of  the 
cottage.  This  had  the  desired 
effect,  and  at  long  last  Blake 
thought  their  search  was  at  an 
end. 

Moran,  it  appeared,  was  the 
caretaker  of  an  I.E. A.  ceme- 
tery, or  rather  an  old  disused 
cemetery,  where  formerly  un- 
baptised  children  were  buried, 
and  which  now  was  used  to 
bury  Volunteers  who  had  "  gone 
to  America."  On  the  Monday 
in  question  three  armed  and 
masked  men  had  driven  up 
to  his  house  with  a  prisoner, 
and  after  trying  him  by  "  court- 
martial  "  in  the  cottage,  had 
taken  him  to  the  cemetery, 
and  made  Moran  help  them  to 
dig  a  grave,  while  the  unfortu- 
nate prisoner  looked  on.  They 
blindfolded  and  shot  him, 
and  finally  forced  Moran  to 
put  the  body  in  the  grave  and 
fill  it  in.  They  then  left. 
Though  hard-pressed,  Moran 
denied  any  knowledge  of  the 
identity  of  the  masked  men  or 
their  victim  ;  and  when  told 
to  describe  the  murdered  man, 
gave  a  description  which  might 
have  applied  to  hundreds  of 
men. 

Blake   then    ordered    Moran 
to  show  him  the  cemetery,  but 


when  thus  driven  into  a  corner 
he  took  on  the  courage  of  a 
cornered  rat,  and  though  they 
tried  for  an  hour  not  one  inch 
would  he  go.  Seeing  that  the 
man  was  desperate  and  would 
have  died  sooner  than  show 
them  the  cemetery,  Blake  re- 
turned to  the  barracks. 

That  night,  as  soon  as  it 
was  dark,  a  strong  police  force 
rounded  up  the  six  leading 
Volunteers  in  Ballybor,  and 
took  them  out  to  Moran's 
house  in  two  Crossleys,  arriving 
as  the  full  moon  was  showing 
over  the  top  of  the  mountains. 

At  the  first  knock  on  the 
door  Moran  came  out,  his  face 
contracted  with  fear,  which 
turned  to  relief  on  seeing  the 
uniforms  of  the  police ;  but 
when  he  saw  the  six  Volun- 
teers he  nearly  collapsed.  Blake 
now  ordered  Moran  to  lead 
them  to  the  cemetery,  and  so 
great  was  the  man's  terror  that 
he  started  off  across  the  bog 
without  a  word. 

After  walking  over  a  mile 
in  the  moonlight,  they  came  to 
a  low  ridge  of  limestone  mounds 
running  through  the  bog  and 
parallel  to  the  mountains.  Here 
in  a  hollow  was  the  old  grave- 
yard, which  looked  like  a  dis- 
used sheep -pen,  such  as  the 
country  people  use  for  the 
rounding-up  of  mountain  sheep 
when  the  different  owners  pick 
out  their  own  sheep  and  lambs 
to  brand  them.  The  cemetery 
was  surrounded  by  a  stone  wall, 
broken  down  in  many  places, 
and  inside  was  a  tangled  mass 
of  elder  and  thorn  bushes. 

After  posting  sentries  round 


310 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


[Sept. 


the  graveyard,  Blake  made 
Moran  point  out  the  latest 
grave,  and  after  the  trembling 
man  had  shown  them  a  mound 
between  two  bushes,  he  ordered 
two  of  the  Volunteers  to  start 
opening  the  grave  with  spades 
brought  by  the  police.  Pres- 
ently one  of  the  spades  met 
something  in  a  sack,  and  on 
opening  the  sack  they  found 
the  body  of  a  short  dark  man 
— obviously  a  peasant — whereas 
Drake  had  been  a  tall  fair  man. 
On  examination  they  found 
wounds  in  the  body  and  left 
leg. 

For  a  moment  Blake  was 
quite  nonplussed — he  had  been 
so  sure  that  the  body  would 
be  Drake's.  He  was  certain 
that  the  station-master  had 
spoken  the  truth,  and  there 
seemed  no  reason  to  doubt 
Moran's  evidence,  though  why 
he  should  be  in  such  a  state 
of  terror  was  not  plain.  Fur- 
ther, it  was  now  five  days 
since  Drake  was  supposed  to 
have  been  murdered,  and  the 
body  they  had  just  dug  up 
had  obviously  been  in  the 
ground  two  days  at  the  most, 
probably  only  one. 

A  careful  examination  of 
the  cemetery  showed  that  there 
was  no  other  recent  grave. 

Blake's  thoughts  were  in- 
terrupted by  one  of  the  Volun- 
teers, a  man  called  Brogan, 
asking  with  his  tongue  in  his 
cheek  and  an  impudent  sneer  : 
"  Is  yer  honour  satisfied  now, 
and  will  we  be  after  burying 
this  poor  fellow  decently  agin?" 
Taking  no  notice  of  Brogan's 
question,  Blake  told  a  sergeant 


to  make  the  Volunteers  carry 
the  dead  man  to  the  Crossleys, 
and  to  wait  for  him  there. 
After  they  had  gone  he  made 
Moran  go  down  on  his  knees 
and  swear  on  his  oath  that  the 
body  they  had  dug  up  was 
the  man  who  had  been  exe- 
cuted on  the  previous  Monday  ; 
but  Moran  could  only  swear 
that  he  had  been  so  frightened 
at  the  time  that  he  had  not 
taken  any  notice  of  the  pris- 
oner, but  that  to  the  best  of 
his  belief  the  body  was  the  one 
he  had  buried.  Moran  then 
broke  down,  and  had  to  be 
half-carried,  half -led  to  his  cot- 
tage, where  they  left  him,  and 
returned  to  Ballybor  with  the 
Volunteers  and  the  corpse  for 
a  military  investigation. 

The  failure  to  find  Drake's 
body  in  the  bog  cemetery 
forced  Blake  to  follow  up  the 
other  rumours  regarding  his 
sudden  disappearance,  but 
every  rumour  and  clue  failed 
them,  and  it  looked  as  though 
Drake's  fate  was  to  be  added 
to  the  long  list  of  unsolved 
Irish  crimes. 

Two  days  after  the  police 
had  visited  the  cemetery,  Blake 
received  information  that  arms 
for  a  police  ambush  had  been 
brought  into  Murrisk  townland, 
and  also  that  poteen  was  being 
freely  made  and  drunk  there. 

Having  arranged  with  a  com- 
pany of  Auxiliaries  stationed 
in  Armagh  to  co-operate  with 
him,  Blake  left  the  barracks 
with  two  Crossley  loads  of 
police  and  a  Ford  an  hour 
before  dawn  one  morning,  and 
as  the  day  broke  the  Auxiliaries 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


311 


and  police  started  to  close  in 
a  cordon  on  the  village  and 
outlying  farms  where  they  sus- 
pected the  arms  were  hidden. 

The  first  signs  of  life  were 
two  women  running  across  a 
bog,  and  when  followed  one 
of  them  was  seen  by  Blake  with 
his  glasses  to  throw  a  still  into 
a  bog-hole,  while  the  other  one 
took  two  large  jars  from  under 
her  shawl  and  smashed  them 
together  into  pieces.  The 
women  were  quickly  rounded 
up,  and  on  being  taken  to 
the  nearest  house,  the  police 
found  six  fully-dressed  men  well 
tucked  up  in  two  beds,  and  the 
remains  of  a  huge  fire  in  the 
kitchen,  while  the  whole  house 
reeked  of  poteen — good  circum- 
stantial evidence  that  the  party 
of  eight  had  spent  the  night 
running  a  still. 

After  a  long  and  fruitless 
search  for  arms,  Blake  found 
himself  close  to  Murrisk  Abbey ; 
so,  after  sending  the  Auxiliaries 
back  to  Annagh,  he  went  to 
pay  the  mac  Nessa  a  visit. 

The  old  man  was  delighted 
to  see  him,  and  insisted  that 
he  should  stay  to  dinner,  and 
the  police  should  have  drink 
and  food. 

Blake  and  the  mac  Nessa 
dined  alone,  and  over  the  port 
the  old  man  started  to  tell 
Blake  tales  of  his  youth.  After 
his  second  glass  and  the  long 
day  in  the  cold,  Blake  began 
to  feel  drowsy,  and  his  thoughts 
wandered  to  Drake  and  the 
grave  in  the  bog  cemetery,  only 
to  wake  up  with  a  start,  hear- 
ing the  old  man  say  some- 
thing about  a  grave,  followed 


by,  "  Is  yer  honour  satisfied 
now  1  " 

Apologising  for  his  deafness, 
he  asked  the  mac  Nessa  to 
begin  again,  and  the  old  man 
told  a  rambling  story  of  a 
butler  of  his  young  days  called 
Faherty,  whose  chief  recrea- 
tion was  shooting  rabbits  in 
the  park  during  the  summer 
evenings.  Close  to  the  park 
lived  a  pompous  retired  shop- 
keeper called  Malone,  who  had 
a  very  fine  red  setter,  which 
was  always  wandering  in  the 
park,  like  Faherty,  after 
rabbits. 

On  several  occasions  Faherty 
and  Malone  had  had  words 
over  the  setter,  and  the  climax 
was  reached  when  Malone  ar- 
rived at  the  Abbey  one  evening, 
purple  with  rage,  and  insisting 
on  seeing  the  mac  Nessa, 
burst  into  his  study,  accused 
Faherty  of  having  shot  his 
setter,  and  added  that  he  knew 
that  the  dog  was  buried  in  a 
shrubbery  at  the  back  of  the 
house.  The  mac  Nessa  at 
once  called  for  Faherty ;  the 
three  proceeded  straight  to 
the  shrubbery  with  a  spade, 
and  Faherty  was  made  to 
open  the  grave  which  they 
found  there.  After  digging 
down  a  short  way  he  came  on 
the  body  of  a  cur  dog,  to 
Malone's  great  astonishment 
and  disappointment,  and  Fa- 
herty asked  in  a  voice  of 
triumph,  "  Is  yer  honour  satis- 
fied now  ?  " 

After  Malone  had  gone  home, 
the  mac  Nessa  asked  Faherty 
for  an  explanation,  and  the 
butler  told  his  master  how  he 


312 


Tales  of  the  E.I.C. 


[Sept. 


had  shot  Malone's  setter  by 
mistake  in  the  dusk,  and  then 
buried  him  in  the  shrubbery. 
The  following  day  he  heard 
that  Malone  suspected  him, 
and  had  heard  of  the  funeral 
in  the  shrubbery,  so  the  next 
night  he  shot  a  cur  dog,  and 
buried  him  on  top  of  the 
setter. 

On  the  way  back  to  the 
barracks  Blake  could  not  help 
thinking  of  the  similarity  of 
the  remarks  of  Faherty  and 
Brogan  when  the  bodies  of 
the  cur  dog  and  the  dark 
peasant  were  dug  up,  and 
that  night  he  dreamt  that  he 
was  opening  an  endless  row 
of  graves,  and  never  knew 
whether  he  would  dig  up 
a  cur  dog  or  a  dark  peasant, 
and  all  the  time  he  was  hoping 
to  find  Drake's  body.  At  last 
he  came  to  a  grave  where  he 
was  positive  he  would  find 
Drake,  and  started  to  dig  like 
mad,  only  to  wake  up  and  find 
his  own  red  setter  on  his  bed. 

Blake  now  determined  to 
renew  his  efforts  to  find  Drake. 
He  ordered  the  Head  Constable 
to  round  up  the  same  six 
Volunteers,  and  as  soon  as 
this  was  done  set  off  once 
more  for  the  bog  cemetery. 
Making  their  way  to  Moran's 
house,  they  learnt  from  his 
wife  that  the  previous  even- 
ing her  husband  had  been 
removed  by  masked  men  with 
shovel  hats  and  wearing  black 
mackintoshes.  The  wife,  notic- 
ing the  black  mackintoshes,  ac- 
cused the  police. 

Borrowing  a  couple  of  spades, 
the  police  then  went  to  the 


graveyard,  and  as  soon  as  the 
dark  man's  grave  could  be 
found,  Blake  ordered  the  Volun- 
teers to  open  it  again,  and  at 
the  same  time  watched  Bro- 
gan's  face  carefully.  On  the 
way  out  to  the  cemetery,  Bro- 
gan had  been  laughing  and 
sneering  as  on  the  former  oc- 
casion, but  directly  he  heard 
Blake's  order  he  went  as  white 
as  a  sheet,  and  began  to 
tremble,  and  a  look  of  terror 
leapt  into  his  eyes. 

Blake  knew  that  at  last  he 
was  on  the  right  track. 

None  of  the  Volunteers 
moved,  waiting  for  Brogan  to 
give  a  lead,  and  Blake  had  to 
repeat  his  order,  calling  on 
Brogan  by  name  to  start  dig- 
ging. Pulling  himself  together 
with  a  great  effort,  the  Volun- 
teer commenced  slowly  to  throw 
the  earth  out  of  the  grave, 
the  sweat,  though  it  was  a  cold 
day,  pouring  down  his  face. 

The  lower  Brogan  dug  the 
slower  he  dug,  until  at  last, 
when  he  had  excavated  about 
two  feet  of  soil,  he  suddenly 
fainted  and  collapsed  into  the 
shallow  grave. 

The  police  were  by  now 
strung  up  to  the  highest  pitch 
of  excitement,  and  a  huge 
sergeant,  who  had  been  a  great 
favourite  with  Drake,  suddenly 
gave  a  hoarse  shout,  and, 
jumping  into  the  grave  threw 
Brogan  out,  and  started  digging 
like  a  madman,  while  the  rest 
began  to  fidget  with  the  triggers 
of  their  rifles  and  look  omin- 
ously at  the  uneasy  Volunteers. 

Suddenly  the  sergeant's  spade 
met  a  soft  resistance,  and  in  a 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


313 


few  seconds  he  had  uncovered 
and  opened  a  sack,  to  find,  as 
Blake  expected,  the  body  of 
poor  Drake  with  a  huge  ex- 
panding bullet  hole  through  his 
forehead. 

The  next  five  minutes  will 
always  be  to  Blake  a  night- 
mare :  the  police  went  stark 
mad, — when  highly-disciplined 
troops  break  they  are  far  worse 
to  handle  than  any  undis- 
ciplined crowd, — and  with  a 
howl  of  rage  made  for  the 
cowering  Volunteers,  ignoring 
Blake's  shouts ;  and  to  this 
day  Blake  has  no  idea  of  how 
he  kept  his  men  from  taking 
revenge  on  the  Volunteers. 

Probably  he  would  have 
failed  but  for  the  lucky  chance 
of  noticing  that  Brogan,  who 
had  come  to,  was  trying  to 
escape.  The  diversion  of  chas- 
ing Brogan  brought  the  police 
back  to  their  senses,  and  by 
the  time  he  had  been  captured 
and  brought  back,  discipline 
was  completely  restored. 

Before  they  left  the  ceme- 
tery, Brogan  made  a  complete 
confession  of  all  he  knew  about 
the  tragedy.  He  told  Blake 
that  information  had  been  given 
to  the  G.H.Q.  of  the  I.E.A.  in 
Dublin  that  Drake  was  on  the 
point  of  taking  command  of  a 
company  of  Auxiliaries  who 
were  to  be  stationed  in  his  own 
house,  the  idea  being  to  use 
Drake's  local  knowledge,  which 
Blake  knew  to  be  quite  untrue. 
On  the  Sunday  two  gunmen 
arrived  from  Dublin  with  orders 
to  shoot  Drake  and  burn  his 


house.  Finding  out  that  Drake 
intended  to  go  to  Dublin  the 
following  day  by  the  mail 
train,  they  commandeered  a 
Ford  in  Ballybor,  taking  Bro- 
gan with  them  as  a  guide, 
and  took  him  out  of  the  train 
at  Knockshinnagh  ;  and  after 
the  murder  they  returned  to 
Ballybor,  superintended  the 
burning  of  Drake's  house,  and 
then  disappeared  into  the  night 
on  stolen  bicycles. 

Shortly  afterwards  Brogan 
heard  a  rumour  that  Drake 
had  been  murdered  and  buried 
in  the  bog  cemetery,  and  he 
became  very  uneasy.  That 
night  he  and  three  of  the 
Volunteers  received  orders  to 
take  part  in  a  police  ambush  on 
the  far  side  of  the  Slievenamoe 
Mountains,  which  order  they 
obeyed,  going  in  a  Ford. 

In  the  ambush  a  strange 
gunman — none  of  the  local 
Volunteers  knew  who  he  was 
or  where  he  came  from — was 
killed,  and  when  some  argu- 
ment arose  as  to  how  to  dis- 
pose of  his  body,  Brogan  at 
once  volunteered  to  take  the 
body  back  with  him  and  bury 
it  in  the  bog  cemetery,  his 
intention  being  to  bury  the 
gunman  on  top  of  Drake,  so 
that  if  by  chance  the  police 
opened  the  grave  they  would 
find  the  body  of  the  gunman 
and  be  put  off  the  scent.  After 
the  first  visit  of  the  police  the 
Volunteers  had  removed  Moran 
to  a  Sinn  Fein  detention  prison, 
fearing  that  he  might  break 
down  and  give  information. 


314 


Tales  of  ihe  E.I.C. 


[Sept. 


.   A  JEW  IN   GAELIC  CLOTHING. 


"  Beware  of  false  prophets, 
which  come  to  you  in  sheep's 
clothing,  but  inwardly  they 
are  ravening  wolves." — St  Matt. 
vii.  15. 

Probably  very  few  people 
in  England  have  the  remotest 
idea  to  what  extent  anarchy 
was  rife  throughout  the  South 
and  West  of  Ireland,  even  in 
parts  of  loyal  Ulster,  during 
the  year  1920. 

Most  of  the  Irish  members  of 
Parliament,  seventy -three  to  be 
exact,  swore  allegiance  to  Dail 
Eireann.  Of  these,  seven  lived 
abroad,  and  the  remainder  spent 
most  of  their  time  in  prison. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year 
Sinn  Fein  captured  practically 
every  County  Council,  Eural 
Council,  and  Poor  Law  Guar- 
dian's Board  in  twenty-seven 
counties ;  nearly  all  these 
Boards  defied  the  Local  Govern- 
ment Board,  and  took  their 
orders  from  Dail  Eireann  direct. 

Next  came  the  burning  of 
County  and  Civil  Courts,  police 
barracks  and  Petty  Sessions 
Courts,  followed  by  murderous 
attacks  on  police  and  Loyalists 
throughout  the  South  and  West, 
though  chiefly  in  the  South  at 
first. 

In  many  parts  Loyalists  were 
forced  under  the  jurisdiction 
of  Sinn  Fein  Land,  Arbitration, 
and  Civil  Courts.  Solicitors 
had  their  choice  of  practising 
in  these  Courts  or  not  prac- 
tising at  all,  and  a  solicitor 
must  live  as  well  as  another 
man. 


The  police  had  no  power 
outside  their  barracks,  and  in 
many  districts  a  policeman  was 
never  seen  for  weeks  on  end, 
whole  districts  being  policed 
by  civilian  Volunteers. 

A  large  national  loan  was 
raised  openly  in  defiance  of 
the  British  Government,  its 
avowed  purpose  being  to  carry 
on  war  against  England  and 
to  break  up  the  British  Army. 
Sinn  Fein  banks  and  insurance 
societies  were  floated,  the  money 
obtained  being  used  for  the 
same  purposes.  Sinn  Fein  laws 
were  passed  and  enforced,  and 
a  large  army  organised  and 
built  up,  drilled  and  armed. 

At  this  time  the  British 
Prime  Minister  repeatedly  as- 
sured the  country  that  there 
never  could  and  never  would  be 
an  Irish  Eepublic  ;  while  Lloyd 
George  talked  de  Valera  acted, 
and  the  Eepublic  came  into 
being  while  Lloyd  George  was 
still  talking. 

During  the  summer  of  1919 
a  very  ordinary  and  at  first 
uninteresting  strike  of  shop 
assistants  took  place  in  Bally- 
bor  for  higher  wages  and  shorter 
hours,  and  the  shopkeepers  man- 
aged to  carry  on  with  the  aid 
of  their  families,  and  few  of  the 
public  suffered  any  inconveni- 
ence from  the  strike. 

Good  relations  still  existed 
between  master  and  employee 
in  nearly  every  shop  in  the 
town,  and  the  shopkeepers  were 
just  on  the  point  of  an  amicable 
settlement  with  their  assistants 


1921.] 


T ales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


315 


when  a  Transport  Union  agita- 
tor, or,  as  he  called  himself,  a 
Gaelic  organiser,  appeared  on 
the  scene,  and  in  a  few  hours 
the  whole  situation  was  changed. 
The  local  secretary  of  the 
Transport  Union,  to  which  the 
shop  assistants  belonged,  at 
once  broke  off  all  negotiations 
with  the  shopkeepers,  and  be- 
fore night  several  acts  of  sabot- 
age had  been  committed  in  the 
town. 

The  next  morning  saw  the 
strike  begin  afresh  in  deadly 
earnest.  Every  street  was  pick- 
eted by  strikers,  who  refused 
to  allow  any  one,  townspeople 
or  country  people,  to  purchase 
any  foodstuffs  until  the  shop- 
keepers had  given  in  to  their 
impossible  demands.  Doubt- 
less the  idea  was  that  the  starv- 
ing people  would  bring  such 
pressure  to  bear  on  the  shop- 
keepers that  they  would  be 
forced  to  give  in  and  grant 
practically  any  terms  to  the 
shop  assistants.  In  a  word, 
the  old  game  of  blackmail. 

Several  unfortunate  old  coun- 
try-women, who  had  managed 
to  evade  the  pickets  and  to 
purchase  provisions,  were 
caught  on  their  way  home  by 
the  strikers  and  their  pur- 
chases trodden  into  the  mud 
of  the  streets.  One  old  clergy- 
man, who  lived  several  miles 
from  Ballybor  in  an  isolated 
district,  managed  not  only  to 
dodge  the  pickets  and  buy 
much-needed  food,  but  to  get 
two  miles  on  his  way  home. 
However,  a  picket  of  shopboys, 
mounted  on  bicycles,  overtook 
him,  threw  all  his  provisions 


into  a  bog-hole,  beat  him  severe- 
ly, turned  his  pony  loose  in 
the  bog,  and  left  him  by  the 
roadside. 

At  first  the  shopkeepers  were 
bewildered  and  at  a  complete 
loss  to  understand  the  sudden 
change  in  the  attitude  of  their 
assistants,  but  on  hearing  Paid- 
raig  O'Kelly,  the  so  -  called 
Gaelic  organiser,  make  his  first 
public  speech,  they  knew  at 
once  what  they  were  up 
against. 

In  1914,  before  the  war  broke 
out,  all  thinking  Irishmen  knew 
that  the  coming  and  growing 
danger  in  Ireland  was  the 
Transport  Union,  formed  orig- 
inally for  the  perfectly  legiti- 
mate object  of  raising  the  status 
and  wages  of  the  working  classes 
(quite  apart  from  the  small 
farmer  class)  by  combined  ac- 
tion. But  in  a  very  short  time 
this  Union  became  the  instru- 
ment of  Bolshevism  in  Ireland 
under  the  able  command  of 
James  Connelly,  a  disciple  of 
Lenin's  long  before  the  latter 
had  risen  to  power. 

And  so  thoroughly  and  well 
had  Connelly  made  out  his 
plans  for  the  future  that  in 
every  town  and  village  the 
complete  machinery  of  Soviet 
Government  had  been  prepared, 
ready  to  start  working  the 
instant  the  revolution  should 
break  out.  Men  had  been  ap- 
pointed to  every  public  office, 
and  the  houses  of  the  well-to-do 
allotted  to  the  different  Com- 
missioners and  officers  of  each 
local  Soviet. 

Luckily  for  Ireland,  the  re- 
bellion of  1916  saw  the  end  of 


316 


Tales  of  the  E.I.  C. 


[Sept. 


James  Connelly,  probably  the 
most  dangerous  and  one  of  the 
cleverest  men  of  modern  times 
in  Ireland. 

With  the  death  of  Connelly 
and  the  disappearance  of  Larkin 
to  America,  the  Transport  Union 
fell  into  the  hands  of  less  able 
men,  but  still  carried  on  suc- 
cessfully with  agrarian  agita- 
tion, though  marking  time  as 
regards  revolution. 

After  the  war  the  Union  found 
itself  up  against  Sinn  Fein, 
and  for  a  time  it  looked  as 
though  the  two  parties  would 
come  to  blows  and  so  nullify 
each  other's  efforts.  Unfortu- 
nately both  parties  saw  that 
their  only  chance  of  success  was 
to  co-operate ;  doubtless  the 
Transport  Union  thought  that 
if  the  rebellion  was  successful 
their  chance  would  come  in  the 
general  confusion,  and  that 
they  would  be  able  to  get  their 
Soviet  Government  working  be- 
fore the  Sinn  Feiners  could  get 
going. 

During  1919  and  1920  Sinn 
Fein  and  the  Transport  Union 
nearly  came  to  blows  on  several 
occasions  in  the  West  over 
agrarian  trouble.  The  Trans- 
port Union  wanted  to  take 
advantage  of  the  absence  of 
law  and  order  to  hunt  every 
landlord  and  big  farmer  out 
of  the  country  and  divide  their 
lands  amongst  the  landless  mem- 
bers of  the  Union,  while  Sinn 
Fein  policy  was  to  wait  until 
the  Eepublic  had  been  set  up, 
when,  so  they  declared,  there 
would  be  an  equitable  division 
made. 

The  Ballybor  strike  collapsed 


as  suddenly  as  it  had  started 
with  the  disappearance  of  Paid- 
raig  O 'Kelly.  The  previous 
day  a  public  meeting  on  the 
town  fair  green  had  been  held 
by  the  Transport  Union,  and 
all  the  young  men  and  girls 
of  the  town  and  countryside 
had  attended.  At  first  the  local 
firebrands  addressed  the  meet- 
ing with  their  usual  grievance, 
and  then  O 'Kelly  spoke  for  a 
full  hour.  At  first  he  confined 
himself  to  the  strike,  and  car- 
ried his  audience  with  him 
when  he  painted  a  vivid  picture 
of  the  different  lives  led  by  the 
shopkeepers  and  their  "  slaves," 
how  the  former  and  their  fami- 
lies lived  on  the  fat  of  the  land, 
the  latter  in  the  gutter. 

The  crowd  had  now  had  all 
they  wanted  and  were  prepared 
to  go  home  to  tea,  but  O 'Kelly 
had  a  good  deal  more  to  tell 
them.  Suddenly  and  without 
any  warning  he  began  to  unfold 
the  doctrine  of  Lenin,  to  show 
them  how  the  world  and  all 
the  good  things  in  it  ought 
really  to  belong  to  them,  and 
that  these  good  things  would 
never  be  theirs  until  the  ruling 
classes  were  forced  to  disgorge 
them,  and  that  the  only  way 
to  make  the  swine  disgorge  was 
to  kill  them  one  and  all — 
gentry,  business  men,  and  shop- 
keepers. 

The  man  could  really  speak, 
and  held  his  audience  spell- 
bound while  he  unfolded  the 
Irish  Eldorado  of  the  future  ; 
but  through  all  his  speech  ran 
the  one  idea  to  kill,  always  to 
kill  those  in  a  higher  station 
of  life  than  his  listeners.  To 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


317 


finish  with  he  called  upon  them 
to  start  with  the  police,  to 
shoot  them  like  the  dogs  they 
were,  and  when  they  were  gone 
the  rest  would  be  easy. 

Sergeant  M'Grath  had  been 
detailed  to  attend  the  meeting 
to  take  down  in  shorthand  any 
speeches  which  might  require 
explaining  afterwards,  but  until 
O 'Kelly  started  to  preach  the 
doctrine  of  Lenin  he  had  not 
opened  his  notebook. 

The  sergeant  had  served  in 
most  parts  of  Ireland,  but 
O'Kelly's  speech  and  brogue 
puzzled  him  :  the  man  spoke 
like  an  Englishman  trying  to 
imitate  the  Irish  brogue,  but 
with  a  thickness  of  speech 
which  the  sergeant  could  not 
place.  Nor  could  he  place  the 
shape  of  O'Kelly's  head,  a 
round  bullet-shaped  one  with 
a  high  narrow  forehead  and 
coarse  black  hair. 

He  duly  reported  O'Kelly's 
speech  to  the  D.I.,  who  en- 
deavoured to  find  out  where 
the  man  came  from,  but  failed 
to  get  any  definite  information. 
One  rumour  said  that  O 'Kelly 
came  from  Cork,  another  from 
America,  and  yet  a  third  that 
he  was  a  native  of  Castleport. 
So  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to 
arrest  the  man  and  then  try 
to  identify  him  ;  but  O 'Kelly 
had  completely  disappeared. 

Nothing  further  appears  to 
have  been  heard  of  O 'Kelly 
in  Ireland  during  1919,  but  the 
following  year  an  itinerant  lec- 
turer on  bee-keeping  turned  up 
in  Co.  Donegal,  who  bore  a 
strong  resemblance  to  Lenin's 
disciple.  This  man's  practice 


was  to  give  a  short  lecture  on 
bees  in  school-houses,  and  then 
to  launch  forth  into  pure  Bol- 
shevism— a  complete  waste  of 
time  on  the  average  Donegal 
peasant.  Next  he  was  heard 
of  in  Belfast,  where  he  was 
lucky  to  escape  a  violent  death 
at  the  hands  of  some  infuriated 
shipyard  workers. 

In  May  1920  the  Transport 
Union  in  Ballybor  began  sud- 
denly to  give  Blake  a  lot  of 
trouble — cases  of  men  being 
dragged  out  of  their  beds  at 
night  and  forced  with  a  loaded 
gun  at  their  heads  to  join  the 
Union  steadily  increased. 

Several  landlords  who  em- 
ployed a  good  many  men  were 
threatened  that,  if  they  did 
not  pay  a  higher  wage  than  the 
maximum  laid  down  by  law, 
all  their  men  would  be  called 
out  and  that  they  would  in 
addition  be  boycotted.  And 
any  who  refused  at  once  had 
their  hayricks  burnt  and  their 
cattle  injured. 

Eumours  came  to  Blake's 
ears  of  a  man  making  ex- 
traordinary speeches  at  night 
in  the  different  country  school- 
houses  throughout  the  district 
to  audiences  of  young  men  and 
girls,  speeches  which  apparently 
combined  Sinn  Fein  aims  with 
red  revolution. 

During  1920  Sergeant  M'Grath 
had  been  sent  to  Grouse  Lodge 
as  sergeant-in-charge,  and  think- 
ing that  he  recognised  O' Kelly 
in  the  revolutionary  lecturer 
who  was  touring  the  district, 
he  kept  a  careful  watch  on  the 
Cloonalla  school  -  house,  and 
within  a  week  had  surprised 


318 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


[Sept. 


and  captured  the  man,  who 
turned  out  to  be  O 'Kelly. 

O 'Kelly  was  brought  up  be- 
fore the  E.M.  in  Ballybor 
Barracks,  charged  with  inciting 
the  people  to  murder  the  police 
during  the  strike  of  1919,  and 
pleaded  not  guilty. 

The  E.M.,  who  looked  upon 
the  man  as  a  harmless  lunatic 
(he  had  not  heard  him  harangu- 
ing a  crowd),  offered  to  let  him 
go  provided  he  entered  into  a 
recognisance  to  be  of  good  be- 
haviour and  could  find  two 
sureties  in  fairly  substantial 
sums.  O 'Kelly  replied  that 
he  dared  not  enter  into  a  recog- 
nisance to  be  of  good  behaviour, 
and  further,  that  if  he  was  re- 
leased he  would  continue  to 
preach  revolution.  Whereupon 
the  E.M.  gave  him  three  months 
and  left  the  barracks. 

Blake  then  saw  O 'Kelly  alone, 


and  endeavoured  to  find  out 
who  and  what  he  was.  It  was 
obvious  that  the  man  was  not 
an  Irishman,  nor  did  he  appear 
to  be  English.  O 'Kelly  refused 
to  give  him  any  information 
regarding  himself. 

While  this  interview  was 
going  on  an  Auxiliary,  whose 
home  was  in  Scotland,  and 
who  commanded  a  section  of 
Cadets  on  temporary  duty  in 
Ballybor,  looked  in  to  see  Blake 
and  found  him  with  O 'Kelly. 

After  O 'Kelly  had  left  the 
room  the  Auxiliary  told  Blake 
that  he  knew  the  man  well,  and 
had  often  seen  him  in  Glasgow, 
where,  previous  to  1919,  the 
man  had  lived  for  two  years 
working  as  a  Jewish  Bolshevik 
agent,  and  that  he  had  sud- 
denly disappeared  from  Glas- 
gow when  the  police  began  to 
get  unpleasantly  attentive. 


1921.] 


319 


BAKE   FOEESTS. 

"  In  April  come  he  will. 
In  May  he  blows  all  day." 


I. 


THE  old  couplet  adapted  as 
above  applies  very  well  to  the 
hot  wind  which  in  India  has 
its  chief  season  in  the  fourth 
and  fifth  months  of  the  year. 
A  wind  that  is  a  terror  and  a 
torment  to  some,  yet  it  is  not 
so  bad  but  that  it  blows  good 
to  somebody.  To  myself  and 
others  it  blows  leave,  sixty 
days  of  it  or  often  more,  when 
you  are  free  to  go  whither  you 
will  —  uphill  after  mountain 
game,  or  away  over  the  great 
plains  after  a  tolerably  wide 
choice  of  the  greater  beasts  of 
the  forests  thereof.  And  should 
you  choose  the  latter,  you  will 
find  that  the  hot  wind  has 
swept  and  garnished  the  forests 
for  you,  licked  up  the  under- 
growth, seared  off  the  last 
leaves,  reduced  the  number  of 
drinking  places,  and  increased 
the  drinkers  at  such  water  as 
remains. 

Were  I  starting  life  over 
again,  I  think  I  should  give 


the  mountains  a  turn,  eschew 
all  scorching  places  and  sleep- 
less nights,  and  get  me  to  chilly 
regions  where  snow  is,  and  cool 
shady  precipices,  and  the  scent 
of  pine  and  birch,  or  the  sight 
of  their  green  tops  far  below 
me.  I  should  warm  my  toes 
by  camp-fires  o'  nights,  and 
retire  under  blankets  and  not 
mosquito-curtains,  and  dream 
of  Ibex  and  Markhor.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  might  take  the 
bad  old  road,  and  start  once 
again  as  I  started  years  ago, 
full  of  youth  and  inexperience, 
after  bison  and  tiger.  On  that 
occasion,  having  done  every- 
thing foolish  that  only  extreme 
youth  could  do,  does  still  do, 
and  will  ever  do,  I  returned 
with  neither  bison  nor  tiger, 
but  with  a  good  deal  of  well- 
deserved  fever  and  a  burning 
desire  to  go  again.  From  that 
day  onwards  I  continued  at 
my  old  haunts  with  more  suc- 
cess and  less  fever. 


Not  by  any  means  the  most  "  nasty  "   animal.     When  the 

commonly  shot  animal  of  In-  hot  wind  started  blowing  not 

dian  big  game  is  the  buffalo —  long  ago,  or  rather  before  its 

ce  mechanic  guand  Von  attaque,  advent,  I  was  casting  about  for 

il  se  defend,  which  is  French  the  most  likely  spot  to  go  to 

for    vindictiveness.      In    other  for  buffalo, 

words,  the  buffalo  is  reputed  a  Much  hampered  by  the  curse 


320 


Bare  Forests. 


[Sept. 


of  all-pervading  railways  which 
nowadays  will  carry  Dick,  Tom, 
or  Harry  without  much  trouble 
to  the  remotest  places,  I  was 
sore  put  to  it  to  find  virgin  soil 
— that  is  to  say,  soil  with  heaps 
of  buffaloes,  and  no  sandwich 
papers,orange-peel,or  egg-shells. 
I  was  determined  to  find  virgin 
soil,  or  failing  that,  virginal. 

I  opened  an  atlas,  and  found 
a  largish  bit  of  India  marred 
with  few  or  no  railways.  Buf- 
falo dwelt  here,  I  heard,  and 
the  inhabitants  insisted  on 
beads  for  payment,  and  would 
not  look  at  coin  of  the  realm. 
This  seemed  about  the  line  of 
goods  I  was  after.  It  was  a 
Native  State,  containing  a  po- 
tentate and  a  political  officer.  I 
addressed  a  letter  to  the  proper 
person,  who  was,  of  course,  the 
political  officer,  and  received  a 
curt  reply  saying  that  my  pro- 
position to  come  and  kill  a  few 
of  the  potentate's  buffaloes  was 
quite  out  of  the  question. 

I  then  employed  a  third 
party,  one  who  was  able  to 
use  thick  creamy  notepaper 
bearing  the  superscription, 
' '  Viceregal  Lodge. ' '  The  super- 
scription did  it.  He  was  in- 
structed to  write  and  ask  for  a 
permit  for  a  friend.  It  worked 
like  a  pink  pill  on  that  pale 
political  person.  He  replied, 
to  the  third  party,  with  tre- 
mendous warmth.  Eelays  of 
the  potentate's  motors  were 
offered  to  convey  third  party's 
esteemed  friend  into  the  cream 
of  the  shooting  country.  A 
camp  would  be  found  ready 
pitched  here,  another  there, 
and  so  on. 


I  pinned  together  the  politi- 
cal's two  letters,  the  warm  one 
to  Viceregal  Lodge  and  the 
cold  one  to  myself,  wrote  a 
covering  line  explaining  that 
I  was  very  grateful  but  had 
changed  my  mind,  and  for- 
warded the  docket  to  him.  I 
bore  him  no  malice.  We  are 
all  human.  But  I  felt  that  I 
should  be  better  elsewhere,  and 
I  again  sought  for  a  sequestered 
spot.  Eventually  I  found  one, 
one  hundred  and  twenty  miles 
from  the  nearest  railway,  and, 
faute  de  mieux,  decided  to  go 
there. 

I  summoned  Genghis  Khan, 
my  servant  and  companion  of 
many  another  expedition,  and 
told  him  to  have  all  things 
ready  by  15th  April.  Not  a 
very  difficult  matter,  for  fre- 
quent practice  had  made  our 
mobilisable  state  very  perfect. 
Tents  wanted  neither  patching, 
poles,  nor  pegs,  nor  did  rifles 
or  other  gear  want  looking  to. 
Genghis,  for  his  second  name 
was  not  baptismal,  and  only 
assumed  with  increasing  years 
and  respectability,  said  he 
would  want  ten  days'  leave  to 
remove  his  "  house  "to  "  her  " 
home.  We  do  not  speak  of  our 
wives  in  the  East.  He  also 
wanted  an  advance  of  pay,  and 
information  as  to  who  else  was 
going  with  us.  He  knew  what 
the  answers  to  all  three  re- 
quests would  be.  Who  but 
Chujjoo,  the  jolly  young  water- 
man, Genghis 's  slave  and  my 
servant,  should  accompany  us  ? 
Chujjoo  was  a  stout  fellow, 
with  few  cares  and  no  interests 
beyond  those  connected  with 


1921.] 


Bare  Forests. 


321 


his  goatskin  water-bags.  He 
was  jolly  in  a  silent  way,  for 
he  possessed  such  an  impedi- 
ment in  his  speech  that  he  was 
to  all  intents  dumb. 

Genghis  was  of  the  bearded, 
bluff,  King  Henry  VIII.  type 
of  Mahommedan,  who  could 
cook  meals  almost  impossible 
to  eat  at  quite  impossible  times 
and  places,  skin  a  tiger,  drive 
a  pair  of  bullocks,  and  do  many 
other  things  besides.  Bullock- 
driving  was  his  favourite  ac- 
complishment. He,  his  slave, 
and  myself  had  fared  forth  on 
the  chase  many  a  time,  and 


we  suited  one  another  admir- 
ably. 

The  heavy  rifle  was  unboxed, 
and  from  that  day  till  we 
started  it  stood  in  a  corner 
of  the  room,  convenient  for 
frequent  handling.  It  was 
much  too  heavy  for  me,  but 
by  frequently  throwing  it  up 
before  starting  on  a  shoot,  I 
became  more  or  less  inured  to 
it.  The  shock  of  its  discharge 
had  often  knocked  off  my  hat 
if  not  well  secured,  and  some- 
times sent  me,  in  a  sitting 
posture,  into  it.  It  was  a 
rough  friend,  but  an  honest  one. 


in. 


One  afternoon  in  mid-April  a 
train  carried  us  away.  A  night 
and  the  best  part  of  another 
day  we  were  in  the  belly  thereof, 
and  were  then  cast  up  on  the 
platform  of  a  little  junction  to 
await  a  connection. 

It  was  while  Genghis,  always 
a  man  of  resource,  was  boiling 
the  kettle  on  a  long  iron  rod 
over  the  furnace  of  an  unpro- 
testing  locomotive,  that  the 
Casual  Fellow  blew  in  on  us. 
A  second  cup  was  got  out, 
and  he  was  asked  to  join  me 
at  tea.  We  learnt  that  we 
were  both  bound  for  the  same 
terminus  and  with  the  same 
object  in  view. 

He  was  of  the  kind  that  con- 
siders the  lily  of  the  field  too 
closely,  and  takes  no  thought 
for  food,  raiment,  or  anything 
else.  Most  of  us  have  met  that 
kind,  quite  undeserving,  but 
usually  rather  attractive  folk, 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXI. 


drifting  placidly  on  the  current 
of  destiny  or  of  chance,  and 
generally  finding  somebody  to 
do  for  them  what  they  should 
do  for  themselves. 

B.  was  one  of  these  lucky 
people.  He  had  dimly  formu- 
lated an  intention,  or,  more 
properly  speaking,  a  hope  or 
wish,  to  come  where  he  now 
was ;  and  here  he  was,  some 
one  having  caught  his  train  for 
him,  taken  his  ticket,  and  pre- 
sented him  with  a  large  iced 
cake.  The  cake  appeared  to 
have  been  the  extent  of  the 
arrangements  for  spending  sixty 
days'  shooting  leave  in  some 
remote  place.  As  to  exactly 
where  he  was  to  shoot  or  what, 
or  about  such  troublesome  de- 
tails as  permits  to  shoot,  and 
so  on,  he  was  waiting  for  some 
one  to  see  to  all  that. 

At  tea  he  produced  his  cake 
from  a  large  tin  helmet-case, 

M 


322 


Bare  Forests. 


[Sept. 


and  drawing  a  hunting-knife, 
stood  poised  over  it  as  if  un- 
willing to  strike.  "  Not  a  bad 
inscription,  I  think  ?  "  he  re- 
marked in  a  pondering  tone. 
No,  certainly  not  bad,  but  at 
the  moment  I  did  not  grasp  its 
full  significance.  Scrawled  in 
thick  pink  letters  on  the  white 
top  were  the  words,  "  O  God  ! 
keep  kind  master."  B.  was  a 
little  hazy  as  to  who  had  given 
him  the  cake,  but  rather  thought 
it  was  his  cook,  who,  he  added, 
"  had  remained  behind."  I 
decided  later  that  the  cook 
was  a  pious  and  a  discreet  man, 
who,  having  recorded  this 
prayer  in  pink  sugar,  had  re- 
mained behind  to  watch  its 
efficacy.  In  plunged  the  knife, 
and  the  inscription  was  marred. 
I  ate  some  of  it  myself. 

Next  morning  we  finished 
our  railway  journey  and  the 
cake,  nearly ;  for  B.,  fully 
assured  by  past  experience  of 
manna,  quails,  or  other  heaven- 
sent provender,  could  afford  to 
be  prodigal. 

An  ancient  rest-house  re- 
ceived us  into  its  shadows. 
Under  its  low  thatch  it  stood 
blinking  out  into  the  glare 
which  encompassed  it,  just  like 
some  old  man  whose  eyes  hate 
the  sunlight,  and  who  wears  a 
wide-brimmed  sun-hat  so  much 
too  large  for  him  that  he  can 
barely  see  out  of  it  at  all.  An 
ancient-of-days,  deeply  rever- 
ential, and  of  the  kind  nowhere 
else  to  be  found  save  in  these 
remote  old  rest-houses,  received 
us.  After  the  hot  railway  it 
was  paradise — the  darkness  of 
the  rooms,  the  shelter  from  the 
wind  now  raging  impotently 


against  rattling  doors,  and  the 
large  zinc  baths  and  abundance 
of  water. 

B.  was  not  the  least  con- 
cerned over  the  fact  that  he 
had  come  something  like  four 
days'  journey  without  having 
first  obtained  a  shooting  permit 
and  an  area  of  forest  assigned 
to  him  to  use  it  in.  It  was 
late  in  the  day  to  get  the  latter. 
We  agreed  that  something  must 
be  done,  and  that  it  might  be 
done  when  we  called  on  the 
Deputy  Commissioner  next 
morning,  if  we  could  pitch  a 
piteous  enough  tale.  B.  sug- 
gested that,  as  he  was  a  bad 
hand  at  pitching  any  kind  of 
tale  whatever,  I  was  to  stir 
the  heart  of  the  Deputy  Com- 
missioner with  something  really 
moving.  As  B.  put  it,  "I  feel 
sure  that  you  could  cause  the 
bowels  of  a  brass  image  to 
yearn  over  me." 

When  entering  the  realms  of 
potentates — and  Deputy  Com- 
missioners are  scarcely  less  in 
their  own  districts — it  is  as 
well  to  go  and  pay  your  re- 
spects on  them.  I  have  found 
them  very  friendly  and  helpful, 
and  often  very  lonely  in  months 
like  April  or  May,  when  their 
consorts  depart  to  the  hills  or 
over-seas. 

We  paid  our  call  next  morn- 
ing, and  by  the  time  we  had 
adjourned  with  our  host  to  the 
swimming-bath,  B.  was  in  pos- 
session of  a  permit  to  shoot  in 
one  of  the  best  blocks  or  areas 
of  forest  in  that  district.  He 
was  not  elated  as  he  should 
have  been.  Complacently  con- 
tent would  describe  "his  atti- 
tude towards  his  extraordinary 


1921.] 


Bare  Forests. 


323 


luck.  During  the  interview  his 
part  had  been  to  maintain  a 
child-like  eagerness.  This  he 
had  done  and  nothing  more. 
He  thanked  me  later  for  my 
part  in  the  matter,  but  added, 
"  I  think  it  was  that  dewy- 
eyed  child-like  look  I  put  on 
that  did  it,  and  made  him  get 
his  yearn  on."  B.  had  eyes 
like  boiled  gooseberries. 

In  the  swimming-bath  we 
met  the  station :  to  wit,  a 
missionary,  the  police  officer, 
the  doctor,  and  the  judge — not 
your  wigged  and  scarlet-robed 
kind,  but  the  plainer  variety, 
who  can  pass  a  death  sentence 
one  hour,  and  can  be  jostling 
nobodies  in  a  swimming-bath 
the  next,  and  then  goes  on 
passing  sentences  all  day,  and 
writing  judgments  most  of  the 


night.  Then  to  breakfast  with 
the  Deputy-Commissioner,  and 
then  the  passing  of  the  long 
day  as  best  we  might.  Some 
of  its  cooler  hours  were  spent 
in  fitting  out  B.  with  a  few 
things  to  supplement  the  cake 
at  a  Parsee's  shop. 

That  night  after  dinner  we 
and  our  carts  rumbled  off  by 
different  roads  on  the  first 
stage  towards  our  respective 
shooting  grounds.  I  heard  from 
my  casual  acquaintance  once 
or  twice.  Figuratively  speak- 
ing, ripe  plums  seemed  to  be 
dropping  into  his  mouth  and 
roses  to  strew  his  path.  Put 
plainly,  he  was  having  a  great 
deal  better  sport  than  he  de- 
served. I  have  never  met  him 
since,  but  he  paid  me  back  a 
small  loan  I  made  him. 


IV. 


There  followed  one  hundred 
and  twenty  miles  of  straight 
flat  road,  traversed  by  night, 
with  the  long  days  spent  in 
dark  silent  rest-houses,  and 
when  they  petered  out,  beneath 
roadside  trees.  Days  and 
nights  of  infinite  leisure  and 
restfulness,  with  long  hours  to 
read  good  old  books  that  are 
so  often  jostled  out  by  bad 
new  ones  and  too  little  time. 
There  are  worse  things  than 
rumbling  along  over  a  fairly 
good  road  lying  on  one's  back 
in  a  cart  and  staring  up  at  the 
stars  until  one  is  rumbled  off 
to  sleep. 

Early  one  morning  we  met 
the  broken  rifle  of  an  angry 
man.  It  was  being  sent  in 


for  repair,  I  don't  know  how 
many  marches  and  later  how 
many  days  by  train.  Its  bearer, 
a  reticent  Pathan  soldier,  under 
Genghis 's  genial  influences,  let 
out  that  its  owner  recently  had 
at  last  obtained  an  absolute 
pot-shot  at  a  tiger  which  had 
long  defeated  him.  He  had 
pressed  the  right  trigger  and 
had  a  miss-fire.  He  then  pressed 
the  left  trigger,  and  had  an- 
other. The  tiger  had  then 
walked  quietly  away,  and  the 
sahib  had  taken  the  rifle  by 
the  barrels  and  smashed  it 
against  a  tree.  This  sort  of 
thing  is  better  done  with  golf 
clubs  and  nearer  shops.  But 
let  him  that  would  throw  the 
first  stone  be  certain  that  he 


324 


Bare  Forests. 


[Sept: 


himself  would  have  been  sin- 
less under  like  provocation. 

Day  or  night  the  silent- 
footed  jingling  mail  -  runners 
passed  or  overtook  us — always 
at  a  five-mile  an  hour  jog-trot, 
and  never  at  any  lesser  pace. 
Surely  they  are  the  most  con- 
scientious of  all  postmen,  ap- 
pearing like  specks  down  the 
long  perspective  of  the  straight 
road,  growing  in  size  till  the 
music  of  their  jingling  staves 
is  heard,  and  again  passing 
away  into  specks.  Myself  un- 
seen, I  have  often  watched 
them  pass  along  the  blazing 
road,  and  with  heavyish  bags 
sometimes,  and  they  have  never 
dropped  into  a  walk.  Probably 
a  merciless  babu  -  postmaster 
with  a  clock  and  a  meticulously 
prepared  table  of  fines  awaits 
the  runner  at  the  end  of  the 
seven-mile  stage.  Hereabouts 
the  night  runners  passed  us 
carrying  torches.  I  asked  why, 
and  was  told  "  Bears." 

I  can  imagine  an  English- 
man running  seven  miles  on 
the  hard  highway  on  an  Indian 
summer's  day,  and  thinking  it 
did  him  good  ;  but  to  see  an 
Indian  doing  this  is  the  most 


un-Eastern  sight  hi  all  the 
East,  and  shows  what  the 
G.P.O.  can  do. 

And  so  after  about  a  week 
on  the  road,  we  came  to  a  tiny 
civil  station,  which  marked  the 
end  of  all  things  save  the  forest, 
which  here  began  in  earnest. 
A  subordinate  member  of  the 
Provincial  Civil  Service  ruled 
here.  I  looked  him  up,  and 
found  him  to  be  a  native  from 
a  far  distant  part  of  India  and 
a  dweller  in  towns.  A  fish  out 
of  water  was  scarcely  more  out 
of  place  or  more  miserable  than 
this  mild-mannered  young  man. 
I  wanted  all  sorts  of  informa- 
tion out  of  him  about  his  dis- 
trict ;  but  although  the  great 
brain  that  had  laughed  at  ex- 
aminations and  had  landed 
its  owner  here  in  hell,  was 
stored  with  regulations  and 
statistics,  he  could  tell  me 
little  enough  about  the  human 
side  of  things. 

Hoping  to  cheer  him  up, 
I  congratulated  him  on  finding 
himself  in  such  a  sporting  dis- 
trict. But  to  this  he  replied, 
"  But,  sir,  I  have  promised 
mother  not  to  shoot  any  danger- 
ous games." 


v. 


As  darkness  fell  that  night, 
my  equipage  and  I  faded  away 
into  the  forest  dim.  Not  quite 
like  Keats 's  Nightingale.  No 
one  sang  of  summer,  there  was 
no  beechen  green,  and  no  full- 
throated  ease  of  any  sort  what- 
ever. Of  leafless  forest  there 
was  plenty,  and  a  track  con- 
sisting chiefly  of  boulders,  and 


several   sweating  mortals   and 
their  lurching  carts. 

Our  progress  through  those 
silent  forest  aisles  savoured  of 
the  outrageous.  For  hung  about 
on  the  outside  of  the  carts  was 
every  kind  of  banging  rattling 
utensil — pots,  kettles,  and  cans  ; 
and  the  uproar  that  these  set 
up  as  we  jolted  along  was  fear- 


1921.] 


Bare  Forests. 


325 


ful.  On  either  hand  stood  a 
wall  of  bare  trees,  and  above  us 
there  was  a  strip  of  sky  and 
some  unrefreshing-looking  stars. 
It  was  a  horrid  hot  night,  too 
hot  to  stumble  along  in  the 
dark  over  the  boulders,  and 
yet  scarcely  better  in  the  cart. 
It  ended  at  last  before  dawn, 
when  the  bullocks  with  a  last 
weary  snuffle  were  taken  out, 
the  pole  sank  to  rest,  and  every 
one  fell  asleep  at  once  and 
without  a  word. 

While  prowling  about  next 
morning  before  turning  in  for 
the  day,  I  actually  trod  on 
the  tail-end  of  a  bear  in  some 
long  grass.  He  rushed  straight 
away,  and  I  let  him  go  as  I 
did  not  wish  to  disturb  the 
forest.  It  was  lucky  it  was  his 
tail  that  I  trod  on  and  not  his 
snout,  for  the  bear  with  a  wipe 
from  his  terrible  claws  when  he 
is  feeling  hot  and  bothered, 
can  remove  the  whole  of  the 
human  face.  No  animal  is  so 
dreaded  by  forest  folk  as  is 
the  sloth-bear,  and  with  such 
reason.  He  is  not  out  to  make 
trouble,  but  being  something 
like  a  semi-blind  and  rather 
deaf  person,  very  much  over- 
dressed for  the  time  of  year, 
his  temper  is  a  bit  short  and 
jumpy.  With  his  turned-in 
feet,  awkward  gait,  and  great 
bare  snout,  he  is  far  from  or- 
namental ;  and  when  alarmed 
and  rolling  doubled-up  down  a 
hillside  or  scrabbling  down  a 
tree,  screaming  and  roaring 
and  whinnying  with  fear,  he  is 
often  enough  a  figure  of  fun. 
He  has  a  sad  and  bad  reputa- 
tion, mythical  of  course,  for  a 
fondness  for  village  maidens 


and  for  carrying  them  off  to  his 
den. 

Two  great  tamarind  -  trees 
marked  the  end  of  our  journey. 
These  stood  on  high  ground 
that  overlooked  a  mile -wide 
river-bed,  more  bed  than  river 
at  this  season.  The  farther 
bank  was  walled  in  by  forest. 

Here  under  the  trees  a  sylvan 
bower  was  speedily  erected, 
roofed  and  walled  with  green 
boughs,  and  affording  fragrant 
and  airy  quarters,  much  pre- 
ferable to  a  tent,  which,  how- 
ever, remained  pitched  in  case 
of  storms. 

The  man  I  had  come  400 
miles  to  find  appeared  soon 
after  daylight  —  Heera  the 
tracker,  a  little  old,  rather  deaf 
product  of  the  jungle,  insig- 
nificant and  humble  ;  and  yet 
his  fame  and  name  were  greater 
than  mine  would  ever  be.  With 
him  came  a  younger  man,  also 
a  tracker. 

Heera  said  at  once  that  no 
buffalo  existed  this  side  of  the 
river — no,  nor  bison  either.  If 
I  wanted  tiger  there  were  three 
about.  No  ?  Well,  then,  only 
over  yonder  were  buffalo  and 
bison,  and  he  waved  his  arm 
to  the  forest  on  the  farther 
bank.  But  this  was  not  in  my 
area,  and  out  of  bounds.  It  was, 
in  fact,  in  the  Native  State 
(but  in  quite  another  extremity 
of  it),  which  I  have  mentioned 
earlier  in  connection  with  two 
letters. 

Heera  quashed  any  scruples 
I  may  have  had.  Every  one, 
he  said,  who  camped  here  shot 
there,  and  there  was  an  end 
to  the  matter.  To-morrow, 


326 


Bare  Forests. 


[Sept. 


then,  two  hours  before  light 
began  to  come,  we  were  to 
make  a  start. 

It  was  a  sizzling  night.  I 
abandoned  bed,  and  got  me  to 
a  deck-chair  and  to  sleep  at 
midnight.  I  had  not  had 
nearly  enough  of  this  at  3.30 
A.M.,  when  I  had  to  rouse  and 
eat  a  dismal  meal  of  one  of 
Genghis's  horrible  stews.  A 
hot  tramp  of  an  hour  followed, 
and  then  after  some  groping 
about  in  the  dark,  a  creek  and 
a  dug-out  came  to  hand,  the 
latter  possessing  a  choice  tap 
of  bilge-water,  but  it  was  as 
cool  as  anything  else  to  sit  in. 
We  pushed  off  on  to  a  wide 
star-lit  channel  of  the  river, 
and  I  fell  asleep.  The  stars 
were  not  yet  paling  when  we 
grated  quietly  on  a  sandy 
beach,  and  so  we  all  went  to 
sleep  on  the  warm  sand  till 
daylight.  I  was  struck  with 
the  profundity  of  the  silence 
that  reigned,  and  yet  dawn 
showed  that  we  had  not  been 
the  on]y  living  things  abroad. 

When  sufficient  light  came, 
the  trackers  got  to  work  amidst 
a  maze  of  buffalo  and  bison 
tracks,  for  both  animals  watered 
here.  After  half  an  hour's 
silent  work,  the  two  men  came 
together,  held  a  low  consulta- 
tion, and  then  transferred  most 
of  the  few  garments  they  wore, 
to  their  heads.  They  then 
started  away  from  the  bank 
on  the  tracks  of  something. 
From  the  scores  of  tracks,  old 
and  new,  of  two  kinds  of  animal 
of  all  ages  and  both  sexes,  and 
some  of  these  tracks  sunk  a  foot 
or  more  in  the  ooze,  the  sleuth- 
hounds  had  disentangled  those 


of  a  solitary  bull.  To-day  it 
was  a  buffalo,  but  we  never 
knew  when  it  would  be  a  bison. 
The  head  of  a  herd  is  not  to  be 
worried  with  his  nursery,  and 
is  therefore  solitary,  and  there- 
fore the  most  shootable  of  that 
herd.  His  tracks  are  therefore 
the  ones  to  follow. 

This  was  to  be  an  easy  day. 
Even  to  me  the  track  in  some 
places  was  plain  to  see,  some- 
thing like  that  of  the  largest 
cart-horse,  with  a  slight  in- 
dentation at  the  toe.  In  other 
places  it  was  quite  invisible  to 
me,  but  like  large  print  to  the 
trackers  who  kept  along  with 
scarcely  a  check  for  an  hour. 
At  the  end  of  that  time,  its 
owner  suddenly  shot  across  a 
glade  at  150  yards'  range.  I 
loosed  two  barrels,  but  heard 
no  thud.  Eeloading,  I  dashed 
after  him  as  he  disappeared 
into  a  thick  plantation.  Into 
this  I  rushed,  and  then  pulled 
up  short.  A  pair  of  immense 
black  horns  faced  me  at  twenty 
yards'  distance.  They  were 
slowly  swinging  from  side  to 
side,  and  neither  advanced  nor 
retreated.  From  the  under- 
growth, which  at  first  hid 
them,  the  great  wet  muzzle, 
the  forehead,  and  the  fore-parts 
of  the  buffalo  grew  into  the 
picture.  The  saplings  I  was 
amongst  were  not  of  a  very 
comforting  size,  and  I  won- 
dered what  sort  of  protection 
one  of  them  would  provide 
against  those  horns,  should  the 
buffalo  decide  on  taking  the 
initiative. 

I  worked  to  one  side,  and 
put  what  I  thought  a  finishing 
bullet  into  the  centre  of  the 


1921.] 


Bare  Forests. 


327 


neck.  There  was  no  result. 
I  put  in  two  more.  I  might 
have  been  shooting  into  a  stop- 
butt.  I  put  two  into  his  chest, 
just  under  the  muzzle,  which 
covered  most  of  it,  and  all  the 
forehead.  Still  no  result.  I 
felt  for  more  cartridges,  and 
found  that  my  first  reserve  had 
been  expended.  My  second 
reserve  was  with  Heera,  well 
back,  and  thirty  feet  up  a  tree. 
I  judged  this  by  his  voice,  for 
I  dared  not  take  my  eye  off 
the  buffalo.  I  called  to  him 
that  I  wanted  cartridges.  Heera 
wisely  remained  where  he  was, 
and  to  encourage  me  shouted, 
"  Be  very  careful.  This  is  a 
bad  one.  He  has  killed  sev- 
eral." I  backed  under  Heera's 
tree  and,  after  some  argument, 
persuaded  him  to  descend  so 
far  as  to  reach  my  upstretched 
hand.  With  five  more  cart- 
ridges I  resumed  operations. 
Of  these  the  fourth  brought  the 
poor  bull  to  his  knees,  but  on 
them  he  was  lively  enough  to 
pivot  round  and  continually 
face  me.  Finally,  I  walked  up 
to  him  and  put  my  last  bullet 
into  his  forehead,  and  he  rolled 
over  dead.  The  trackers  came 
to  earth  when  they  were  re- 
assured that  all  was  well.  Slow- 
ly they  curvetted  round  the 
dead  animal,  intoning,  "  Won't 
we  drink  a  bottle  to-night  ? 
Won't  we  drink  a  bottle  to- 
night ?  "  I  asked  Heera  whom 
this  buffalo  had  killed.  He 
replied,  nobody  so  far  as  he 
knew.  Then  why  did  he  tell 
me  just  now  that  he  had  killed 
several  ?  To  this  was  given 


no  satisfactory  answer.  It  was 
probably  as  good  a  way|"as 
any  other  to  warn  an  ass  tojbe 
careful.  We  were  back  in  camp 
by  10  A.M.,  and  found  Genghis 
wondering  what  all  the  firing 
had  meant.  Well,  it  meant  a 
headache  to  me.  He  had  heard 
my  rolling  salvoes  echoing  in 
the  hills  about  camp,  and  knew 
that  the  heavy  rifle  did  not 
usually  have  to  speak  more 
than  once,  or  twice.  A  posse 
later  went  out  to  carry  in  the 
head  and  meat.  When  these 
came  in,  an  inquiry  elicited  the 
following  facts.  The  first  shots 
of  all  had  broken  a  shoulder, 
and  anchored  the  buffalo  in 
the  copse  where  I  had  suddenly 
come  on  him  after  first  shoot- 
ing. In  skinning  the  head  and 
neck,  the  neck-skin  was  found 
to  be  three  inches  thick.  It 
is  always  the  toughest  part  of 
an  animal's  skin,  for  it  protects 
several  vitals,  and  this  was  a 
very  old  bull. 

This  had  proved  too  much 
for  my  solid  hardened  bullets, 
which,  despite  the  weight  of 
powder  behind  them,  had  sim- 
ply penetrated  the  skin  partly, 
and  then  mushroomed.  It  was 
the  chest  shots  that  got  home. 
His  head  from  tip  to  tip  along 
the  curves  and  across  the  fore- 
head measured  nearly  nine  feet 
— quite  good,  but  nothing  very 
wonderful. 

Several  bottles  of  native  grog 
were  drunk  that  night,  at  two- 
pence a  bottle ! 

That  afternoon  I  mixed  the 
bag  by  catching  a  |-lb.  mah- 
seer. 


328 


Bare  Forests. 


[Sept. 


VI. 


Almost  daily  we  sallied  forth 
as  on  that  first  morning,  drifted 
down  the  star-lit  river,  grated 
on  the  same  sandbank,  and 
when  light  came  searched  for 
fresh  tracks  at  the  same  drink- 
ing-place.  It  was  always  a 
toss-up  whether  we  hit  on 
buffalo  or  bison  tracks.  It  was 
seldom  that  we  found  none. 
Then  sometimes  we  had  luck, 
and  sometimes  (which  in  big- 
game  parlance  means  pretty 
often)  we  had  not.  A  shower 
of  rain  would  wash  out  in  two 
minutes  tracks  we  had  been  on 
for  hours.  A  shift  of  wind  or 
the  crack  of  a  twig  would  send 
away  with  a  snort  and  a  crash 
the  quarry  we  had  been  after 
for  the  best  part  of  a  long  day. 
On  one  occasion  two  pairs  of 
naked  human  foot-tracks  sud- 
denly appeared  over  the  buffalo 
tracks  we  were  following.  I 
did  not  realise  their  full  sig- 
nificance till  Heera  threw  up 
the  sponge  and  whispered  some 
very  bad  words.  Our  day  was 
spoilt.  Soon  afterwards  the 
thunderous  discharge  of  some- 
thing evidently  very  antique 


and  large  in  the  rifle  line  proved 
that  I  was  not  the  only  poacher 
abroad. 

There  were  several  tigers 
about.  On  the  flat  sandy 
river-bed  their  tracks  would 
run  out  for  hundreds  of  yards 
in  a  perfectly  straight  line  from 
the  forest.  A  thirsty  tiger 
makes  a  bee-line  for  his  water, 
and,  after  drinking,  gets 
back  to  covert  again  by  the 
shortest  possible  route.  That 
was  all  as  plainly  written  in  the 
smooth  sand  as  large  print. 
What  sights  one  would  see  if 
one  had  eyes  that  could  see  in 
the  dark  !  I  had  with  me  a 
little  herd  of  six  buffaloes  in- 
tended for  tiger,  but  beaters 
were  not  to  be  had,  and  sit- 
ting up  over  a  tied-up  buffalo 
is  not  a  form  of  sport  I 
have  any  relish  for.  So  my 
herd  grazed  in  peace,  and  re- 
turned eventually  whence  they 
came.  There  were  plenty  of 
bear,  stag  of  two  kinds, 
mostly  in  velvet,  and  some 
antelope,  but  I  was  after  better 
game,  and  left  these  all  well 
alone. 


vn. 

Alligators  can  by  no  stretch  much,  that  I  feel  compelled  to 

of  imagination  come  under  the  mention  him, 

heading  of  "  sport  "  ;   still  less  Immediately  below  my  camp 

under  that  of  "  scenery,"  ex-  was   a   pool — long,   deep,   and 

cept  as  a  blot  upon  it.    I  feel  quiet.     Its  banks  were  richly 

therefore  rather  apologetic  in  upholstered    with    the    softest 

introducing   Humphrey.      But  sandbanks,  some  of  them  nicely 

we   were   neighbours   so   long,  shaded  by  bushes, 

and    amused    one   another    so  It  was  not  till  I  had  twice 


1921.] 


Bare  Forests. 


329 


taken  a  short  cut  to  camp  by 
swimming  across  this  pool,  that 
it  occurred  to  me  as  a  very 
likely  place  for  an  alligator  or 
two.  A  pretty  safe  guess,  for 
most  pools  in  Indian  rivers  hold 
these  beasts. 

It  was  not  long  before  one 
appeared  taking  his  ease  upon 
his  sandbank,  looking  as  dead 
as  only  an  alligator  can  look, 
and  wearing  that  hideous  dead 
smile  common  to  his  race.  In 
reality  no  animal  exists  which 
is  more  alive  or  less  given  to 
smiling. 

In  big-game  shooting  there 
are  many  intervals  of  leisure. 
Nor  did  Humphrey  appear  very 
affaire". 

I  therefore  looked  to  him  to 
help  me  wile  away  those  long 
hot  hours.  He  did  not  fail  me, 
nor  I  him.  Stretched  there  in 
a  flat  and  sprawlsome  way  on 
his  sandy  couch,  he  looked  as 
disgusting  a  reptile  as  any 
reptile  could  look.  Yet  with 
better  luck  alligators,  which  are 
distinctly  of  a  pre-historic  or 
antediluvian  type,  and  I  imag- 
ine live  to  regrettably  immense 
ages,  should  command  some 
respect  or  at  least  interest. 
But  their  hideous  looks  inspire 
only  one  feeling,  and  that  is 
loathing.  His  presence  in  the 
pool  must  have  been  known  in 
the  village  for  probably  genera- 
tions, for  he  regularly  drew  his 
rations  therefrom,  at  intervals 
of  about  a  month,  in  the  form 
of  a  calf  or  a  cow.  A  Hindu 
has  a  habit  of  canonising  any- 
thing really  nasty,  and  I  dare 
say  his  real  name  was  Saint 
Humphrey.  Anyway,  it  had 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXT. 


been  nobody's  business  to  tell 
me  of  his  presence  in  the  pool, 
and  as  the  saint  was  always 
well  fed,  perhaps  it  mattered 
the  less. 

Genghis  got  out  the  tackle — 
to  wit,  a  fifty-yard-long  rope 
and  a  treble-hook  about  the 
size  of  a  baby  grapnel.  The 
end  of  the  rope  was  connected 
to  the  eye  of  the  hook  by  a 
dozen  thin  cords.  An  alligator 
could  bite  through  a  rope,  and 
he  could  bite  through  some  of 
these  cords,  but  enough  would 
remain  in  the  intervals  between 
his  teeth  to  hold  him.  The  bait 
was  any  kind  of  meat,  and  the 
higher  the  better.  Putrid 
tiger's  guts  were  a  certain  lure, 
but  at  the  time  we  weren't 
stocking  any  of  this  line  in 
baits. 

Whatever  the  dainty,  it  was 
lapped  and  wound  and  in- 
extricably woven  into  and  on 
the  hook,  barbs,  and  shank ; 
and  further,  it  was  bound 
thereto  with  brass  picture-wire. 
All  being  ready,  the  game  of 
cross-purposes  began.  Hum- 
phrey won  every  time.  The 
rules  were  quite  simple.  The 
baited  hook  was  laid  on  a  rock 
just  above  water-level.  Hum- 
phrey had  to  go  away  and 
submerge,  and  I  had  to  seques- 
ter myself  fifty  yards  away, 
with  the  free  end  of  the  rope, 
a  book,  and  a  pipe.  About  ten 
minutes  were  allowed.  Then 
Humphrey  appeared  camou- 
flaged as  a  dead  leaf,  propelled 
by  the  breeze  slowly  over  the 
surface  of  the  pool  toward  the 
bait — that  is  to  say,*  nothing 
of  Humphrey  appeared'but  the 
M  2 


330 


Bare  Forests. 


[Sept. 


tip  of  his  snout,  or  it  may 
have  been  a  scaly  eyelid.  In 
this  guise  he  had  approached 
and  seized  by  the  nose  and 
dragged  to  their  doom,  how 
many  thirsty  kine  ?  Slowly 
and  with  many  pauses  he  would 
blow  across  till  he  nuzzled  the 
rock.  Then  two  human-like 
hands — grey,  and  scaly,  and 
with  long  nails  (very  horrible- 
looking  hands) — gently  imposed 
themselves  on  the  rock,  and 
prised  a  pair  of  bandy  elbows 
out  of  the  water,  and  a  pair  of 
jaws  full  of  jagged  and  irregular 
yellow  teeth.  The  jaws  closed 
softly  on  the  bait.  Then  the 
whole  slid  back  quietly  under 
water  and  disappeared.  The 
rope  began  to  run  out.  I 
allowed  thirty  seconds,  and 
then  struck  heartily.  The  hook 
came  bounding  ashore.  But 
in  those  thirty  seconds  every 
shred  of  meat  had  been  stripped 
off  it.  There  were  never  any 
variations  to  the  game,  except 
that  I  allowed  Humphrey  longer 
and  longer  to  gorge  the  bait. 
The  result  was  always  the  same 
— meat  taken,  hook  ejected. 
The  mystery  remains  how  he 
stripped  the  one  from  the  other, 
whether  in  thirty  seconds  or 
thirty  minutes,  and  how  he 
always  came  clear  of  the  hooks. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
Humphrey  possessed  immense 
powers  of  suction,  and  some- 
how sucked  the  meat  off  the 
hook.  But  this  is  no  real  ex- 
planation ;  and  he,  being  a 
very  secretive  fellow,  never  let 
on.  A  modest  livelihood  awaits 
him  when  he  is  prevailed  on  to 
leave  his  pool  and  have  the 


whole  performance  properly 
staged  in  London. 

Had  I  wished  to  play  the 
dirty  on  Humphrey,  I  could 
easily  have  left  the  hook  out 
over  night,  and  would  probably 
have  found  him  well  home  in 
it  next  morning.  I  had  done 
it  with  others  of  his  kind.  But 
this  would  have  been  killing 
the  goose  with  the  golden  egg — 
or,  if  you  like,  descending  from 
the  heights  of  dry-fly  fishing 
to  the  depths  of  bottom  fishing 
and  night-lines.  Or  I  could 
have  planted  a  bullet  with  con- 
siderable ease  in  Humphrey's 
neck.  In  neither  case  would 
I  have  felt  the  smallest  thrill 
in  entering  him  in  the  game- 
book  under  the  heading 
"  Mixed." 

At  our  last  stance — for,  bar- 
ring a  darkened  room,  a  few 
tambourines,  and  a  mysterious 
cabinet,  the  matter  had  become 
a  sort  of  Maskelyne  and  Davant 
affair — the  question  had  finally 
to  be  answered,  "  Did  Hum- 
phrey know  that  I  was  trying 
to  do  him  a  mischief,  and  that 
he  was  defeating  me  ?  "  or 
"  Did  he  think  that  I  had  taken 
a  fancy  to  him,  and  was  simply 
feeding  him  out  of  love  ?  " 
I  am  inclined  to  the  latter 
alternative,  for  after  a  long 
and  close  study  of  him,  I  per- 
ceived that  his  besetting  sin 
was  a  profound  self-compla- 
cency. Other  saints  besides 
Humphrey  have  stained  their 
earthly  garments  in  the  same 
respect.  Humphrey  was  plainly 
dead  to  his  own  absolute  loath- 
someness, and  failed  entirely 
to  realise  that  the  only  decent 


1921.] 


Bare  Forests. 


331 


thing  about  him  was  his  belly- 
skin,  which,  when  tanned,  might 
have  made  me  a  suit-case. 
This  being  so,  I  felt  sure  that 
he  looked  on  me  as  his  admirer 
and  cherisher,  and  probably 
thought  that  I  was  going  short 
myself  in  order  to  feed  him. 
In  short,  it  was  a  matter  of 
cross -purposes  throughout.  I 
can  picture  Humphrey,  long 
after  my  departure,  lolling  on 
his  sandbank,  engaged  in  hand- 
ing out  lies  to  his  beastly  little 
snub-nosed  grandchildren.  I 
can  hear  the  nosy  snuffle  of 
that  unctuous  old  saurian : 
"  Yes,  my  dears,  dear  old  grand- 
dad has  never  lacked  for  ad- 
mirers. There  was  that  kind 


gentleman  I  have  mentioned 
to  you  before.  He  had  heard 
of  me,  and  came  thousands  and 
thousands  of  miles  to  see  me. 
(Did  I  see  you  wink,  Grace  ? 
No  ?  Well,  don't  do  it  again.) 
Day  after  day  he  visited  me, 
bringing  me  cartloads  of  meat ; 
yes,  for  days  and  days,  and 
thousands  of  carts.  Ah  !  poor 
old  granddad  missed  him  sadly 
when  he  went  away. — Gilbert, 
straighten  out  your  tail,  and 
look  nice  if  you  can't  feel  nice." 
In  the  London  Zoo  you  can 
see  several  little  Humphreys — 
poor  specimens, — but  I  always 
give  one  of  them  a  good  dig 
with  my  umbrella,  and  hope 
it  may  hurt  him  a  little. 


vm. 


There  is  one  bad  black  day 
to  record.  We  picked  up  a 
solitary  bison's  tracks  at  dawn, 
and  came  on  him  lying  down 
in  an  hour.  I  fired  at  him 
foolishly  without  quite  seeing 
how  he  was  lying,  and  where 
I  was  to  hit  him.  He  went 
away,  and  we  followed  blood 
till  it  petered  out,  and  then  for 
three  hours  kept  on  his  tracks 
with  great  difficulty.  During 
the  long  checks,  while  those 
tireless  sleuth  -  hounds  never 
ceased  scrutinising  the  ground, 
I  had  to  wait  in  the  full  blaze 
of  the  sun,  ready  to  shoot,  and 
with  the  barrels  too  hot  to 
hold.  At  last  Heera  came  back 
to  me  to  warn  me  to  be  ready 
with  covering  fire,  and  from 
thenceforward  he  climbed  a 
tree  every  thirty  or  forty  yards. 


What  told  him  that  we  were 
drawing  up  to  the  bison,  I  do 
not  know.  Then  from  a  small 
thorn -tree  up  which  he  had 
climbed,  he  reached  back  a 
silent  beckoning  finger.  I 
joined  him  as  well  as  the  small- 
ness  of  the  tree  and  the  thorns 
allowed  me,  but  I  was  only 
able  to  retain  my  position 
by  violent  muscular  exertion. 
Twenty  yards  off  the  outgoing 
tracks,  and  just  visible  in  the 
grass,  was  a  pair  of  horns. 
The  bison  had  retraced  his 
steps  and  was  lying  up.  It 
was  impossible  to  see  which 
way  he  lay :  the  grass  hid  all 
but  the  horns.  I  could  hang 
on  no  longer,  even  with  the 
support  of  Heera 's  leg  round 
my  neck.  I  guessed  and  fired. 
The  shot  brought  the  bison 


332 


Bare  Forests. 


[Sept. 


rushing  under  the  tree,  on  his 
chest,  propelled  by  his  hind- 
legs.  He  passed  away  and 
disappeared.  I  was  too  cramped 
for  the  second  barrel.  Heera 
simply  chattered  at  me  with 
rage.  Why  hadn't  I  given  him 
the  second  barrel  1  I  said  that 
it  was  physically  impossible, 
but  that  it  mattered  the  less, 
as  we  should  find  the  bison 
dead  pretty  close.  "  Not  mat- 
ter much  ?  "  repeated  Heera, 
with  frightful  malice  and  scorn. 
"  You'll  never  see  him  again." 
Nor  did  we.  We  followed  till 
2  P.M.  The  checks  became 
longer  and  longer,  and  at  last, 
after  a  solid  hour's  search, 
Heera  announced  that  fTthe 
tracks  were  completely  lost. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  we  were  all 
beaten  by  thirst.  The  trackers 


knew  of  a  pool.  We  found  it 
with  some  difficulty.  They 
drank  quarts.  I  managed  two 
mouthfuls.  It  was  little  better 
than  a  puddle  of  hot  urine, 
and  had  been  fouled  by  every 
living  thing  within  miles.  At 
evening  we  reached  the  river, 
and  a  drink  and  a  bathe  en- 
abled us  to  do  the  last  four 
miles  into  camp. 

Sundials  may  record  nil  nisi 
serenas  noras,  but  to  imitate 
sundials  would  not  be  recording 
the  whole  truth.  Hence  this 
account  of  a  black  day — a  bad 
maladroit  black  day,  caused 
by  ill-judged  shooting,  not  by 
bad  luck.  The  blackest  thing 
about  it  was  the  thought  of 
that  great  wounded  animal 
going  away  to  perish,  probably 
of  thirst. 


IX. 


A  day  or  two  later  saw  us 
peering  at  two  sleeping  buffa- 
loes. Between  us  and  the  only 
place  "for  a  certain  shot  at 
them  lay  twenty  yards  of  im- 
mense dried  teak  leaves.^;  A 
silent  approach  over  theseZwas 
about  as  feasible  as  one  over 
twenty  yards  of  empty  biscuit- 
tins.  Yet  I  reached  the  spot 
required,  and  those  heavy 
sleepers  still  slept.  When  I 
fired,  one  of  them  got  up, 
looked  at  me  first  as  if  he  would 
and  then  as  if  he  wouldn't, 
and  finally  trotted: away.  fHe 
was  unshootable.  2?  The  other 
lay  so  completely  j  still  •  that  I 
almost  thought  that  ^  he  still 
slept.  So  he  did :  his  last 
sleep.  The  bullet  had  taken 


him  where  intended,  in  the  ear. 
No  more  neck-shots  for  me. 

The  next  day  proved  to  be 
my  last.  We  were  not  after 
tiger,  but  it  chanced  that  one 
had  passed  along  the  nulla-bed 
where  we  were  looking  for  other 
tracks.  The  tiger's  were  fresh 
tracks — that  night's,  but  even 
fresher  than  we  thought  at  the 
moment.  Half  an  hour  later 
we  chanced  still  to  be  on  them  ; 
and  then  we  heard  the  tiger 
speak,  the  low  grumbling  rum- 
ble of  a  hungry  tiger.  For  him 
to  have  been  out  at  this  hour, 
10  A.M.,  in  the  heat  was  a  fair 
proof  that  he  had  failed  to  kill 
anything  during  the  night,  and 
was  still  supperless  but  hopeful. 
On  rounding  a  bend  in  the  nulla 


1921.] 


Bare  Forests. 


333 


bed,  we  saw  what  his  hopes 
were — a  herd  of  tame  buffaloes 
grazing.  The  tracks  immedi- 
ately began  an  enveloping  move- 
ment, and  we,  who  could 
scarcely  have  been  a  hundred 
yards  behind  the  tiger,  although 
we  never  saw  him,  followed  suit. 
We  crossed  a  stream,  on  the 
farther  bank  of  which  the  water 
was  still  running  into  the  square 
masculine  tracks  of  a  very  big 
tiger.  The  buffaloes  were  now 
hidden  from  view.  Here,  un- 
fortunately, on  some  bad  ground 
we  lost  the  tracks  for  about 
thirty  seconds.  Then  on  again 
a  score  of  yards,  till  we  topped 
a  rise  and  looked  down  fifteen 
feet  into  the  river-bed.  A  huge 
bull  buffalo  lay  dead  just  below 
us.  He  must  have  been  struck 
down  within  a  few  seconds  of 
our  appearance,  and  the  tiger, 
hearing  our  footsteps  on  the 
bank  just  above  him  from 
which  he  had  sprung  on  to  the 
buffalo,  had  taken  six  great 
bounds  into  a  tangle  of  reeds 
and  jungle  and  disappeared. 
The  smooth  sand  gave  very 
plain  reading  of  all  that.  The 
tiger  had  sprung  clear  fifteen 
feet  down  on  to  the  buffalo's 
neck,  in  which  I  could  only 
discover  one  deep  punctured 
wound  and  no  other  mark 
whatever.  From  this  the  blood 
was  still  flowing.  None  but 
the  very  biggest  tiger  could 
have  downed  so  big  a  bull  so 
completely,  nor  indeed  would 
have  made  the  attempt. 

The  trackers  were  sent  noisily 
away,  and  I  took  post  on  a 
rock  twenty  yards  away  and 
waited.  A  vulture  did  the 
same  on  a  tree  close  by.  I 


thought  that  probably  he  from 
his  high  perch  could  see  the 
tiger,  while  he  possibly  thought 
that  I  wouldn't  be  sitting  on 
my  rock  without  some  very 
good  reason.  It  was  then  be- 
tween 10  A.M.  and  11  A.M., 
and  we  sat  till  6  P.M.  Twilight 
and  the  approach  of  a  heavy 
storm  brought  this  fruitless 
vigil  to  an  end.  I  felt  like  a 
joint  of  meat  rather  over- 
cooked, for  the  May  sun  had 
beamed  on  me  all  day.  Just 
as  darkness  came  and  the  storm 
burst,  the  trackers  appeared 
with  the  boat.  We  pushed  off 
up-stream  in  a  tornado  of  hot 
wind  with  a  few  scalding  rain- 
drops. Luckily  the  trackers 
were  really  skilful  river-men, 
and  I  had  an  electric  torch. 
Poling,  paddling,  towing,  and 
pushing,  we  fought  our  way 
up  rapids  and  over  submerged 
rocks,  the  fish  constantly  leap- 
ing over  and  sometimes  into 
the  boat,  attracted,  I  suppose, 
by  the  orilux.  It  was  abso- 
lutely pitch  dark.  Toward 
9  P.M.  we  stumbled  thankfully 
into  camp.  The  storm  had 
ceased,  but  it  had  brought  no 
relief  from  the  heat.  Sleep 
even  in  a  deck-chair  was  im- 
possible. From  a  little  village 
near  by  came  all  night  sounds 
of  dolour  and  wakefulness,  the 
howl  of  babies  and  the  lowing 
of  kine.  Overhead  the  parched 
fronds  of  a  tall  palm  clashed 
thirstily  now  and  again,  but 
never  a  breath  stirred  below. 

I  decided  during  that  night 
that  I  had  had  enough  of  it, 
and  that  I  would  on  the  very 
next  day  start  for  another 
country,  where  it  always  rained, 


334 


Bare  Forests. 


[Sept. 


and  where  the  grass  was  green 
and  people's  cheeks  were  pink. 
With  luck  I  might  yet  arrive 
there  in  time  to  smell  the  hay 
and  hear  the  nightingale. 

As  no  one  had  slept  that 
night,  it  was  the  easier  to  start 
at  3  A.M.  next  morning  and 
see  what  was  a-doing  by  the 
dead  buffalo.  As  we  crossed 
the  river-bed,  the  rocks  were 
still  unpleasantly  hot  to  the 


touch,  and  were  generously 
exhaling  the  heat  they  had 
absorbed  the  previous  day. 
Three  hours  later  I  cautiously 
crept  up  the  bank  beneath 
which  the  buffalo  lay,  peeped 
over,  and  there  he  still  lay — 
untouched.  We  had  evidently 
so  frightened  the  tiger,  just 
as  he  killed  on  the  previous  day, 
that  he  had  made  a  clean  bolt 
of  it  and  never  come  back. 


That  night  we  started  home- 
wards. There  were  the  six- 
score  miles  to  do,  and  they 
were  done  to  the  last  long 
furlong.  Least  said  soonest 
mended.  At  the  railway  station 
I  called  up  the  cartmen  for 
payment.  They  had  done  me 
right  well,  had  always  been 
cheery  and  helpful,  and  I 
wanted  to  do  them  well.  Patri- 
archally  I  endowed  them  with 
my  herd  of  young  buffaloes 
(not  knowing  what  else  to  do 
with  them),  together  with  their 
agreed-on  payment  and  a  not 
unliberal  douceur.  But  it  was 
the  old  story,  which  payment 
far  in  excess  of  expectation  so 
often  and  rightly  brings  about. 
Payment  and  buffaloes  were 
refused,  turbans  were  dashed 
on  the  ground,  and  the  be- 
haviour of  those  cartmen  was 
as  unseemly  and  truculent  as 
such  humble  folk  dared  to  ex- 
hibit. Leaving  my  live  stock 
to  get  into  the  luggage  van 
and  follow  their  patriarch  to 
England  if  they  so  wished,  or 
to  desert  him,  and  remain  be- 
hind at  large,  I  hopped  into 


my  railway  carriage,  reflecting 
on  the  ingratitude  of  man. 
Man,  however,  speedily  came 
to  himself,  and  his  innocent 
little  bluff  having  failed,  ap- 
proached with  tears  and  peni- 
tence, and  accepted  payment, 
and  speedily  removed  both  him- 
self and  the  buffaloes. 

Then  the  train  started.  For 
some  miles  it  ran  by  the  road, 
then  turned  and  crossed  it. 
The  road  kept  straight  on.  It 
was  one  of  the  kind  that  have 
no  turning. 

Forty-eight  hours  later,  I  was 
boozing — no  other  word  quite 
expresses  it — iced  water  from 
a  sweating  silver  flagon  on  the 
dining-saloon  table  of  a  home- 
ward -  bound  ship.  Was  this 
not  better  than  the  old  canvas 
water-bag  and  its  tepid  con- 
tents I  Were  not  the  cool  and 
dustless  decks  preferable  to  that 
long  dusty  road  f  And  the 
blue  sea  to  the  leafless  forest  ? 
The  answer  was  in  the  negative. 
I  was  already  hankering  to  get 
back. 

X. 


1921.] 


335 


A  TBADE   EEPORT   ONLY. 


BY  C.   E.  MONTAGUE, 


No  one  has  said  what  was 
wrong  with  The  Garden,  nor 
even  why  it  was  called  by  that 
name  :  whether  because  it  had 
apples  in  it,  and  also  a  devil, 
like  Eden ;  or  after  Gethse- 
mane  and  the  agonies  there  ; 
or,  again,  from  Proserpine's 
garden,  because  of  the  hush 
filling  the  foreground.  All  the 
air  near  you  seemed  like  so 
much  held  breath,  with  the 
long  rumble  of  far-away  guns 
stretching  out  beyond  it  like 
some  dreamful  line  of  low  hills 
in  the  distance  of  a  land- 
scape. 

The  rest  of  the  Western 
Front  has  been  well  written 
up — much  too  well.  The 
Garden  alone — the  Holy  Terror, 
as  some  of  the  men  used  to 
call  it — has  not.  It  is  under 
some  sort  of  taboo.  I  think 
I  know  why.  If  you  never 
were  in  the  line  there  before 
the  smash  came  and  made  it 
like  everywhere  else,  you  could 
not  know  how  it  would  work 
on  the  nerves  when  it  was  still 
its  own  elvish  self.  And  if 
you  were  there  and  did  know, 
then  you  knew  also  that  it 
was  no  good  to  try  to  tell 
people.  They  only  said,  "  Oh, 
so  you  all  bad  the  wind  up  ?  " 
We  had.  But  who  could 
say  why  ?  How  is  a  horse 
to  say  what  it  is  that  be- 


devils one  empty  place  more 
than  another  ?  He  has  to 
prick  up  his  ears  when  he  gets 
there.  Then  he  starts  sweat- 
ing. That's  all  he  knows,  and 
it  was  the  same  story  with  us 
in  The  Garden.  All  I  can  do 
is  to  tell  you,  just  roughly, 
the  make  of  the  place,  the  way 
that  the  few  honest  solids  and 
liquids  were  fixed  that  came 
into  it.  They  were  the  least 
part  of  it,  really. 

It  was  only  an  orchard,  to 
look  at :  all  ancient  apples, 
dead  straight  in  the  stem,  with 
fat  wet  grass  underneath,  a 
little  unhealthy  in  colour  for 
want  of  more  sun.  Six  feet 
above  ground,  the  lowest  apple 
boughs  all  struck  out  level, 
and  kept  so ;  some  beasts, 
gone  in  our  time,  must  have 
eaten  every  leaf  that  tried  to 
grow  lower.  So  the  under 
side  of  the  boughs  made  a  sort 
of  flat  awning  or  roof.  We 
called  the  layer  of  air  between 
it  and  the  ground  The  Six-Foot 
Seam,  as  we  were  mostly  miners. 
The  light  in  this  seam  always 
appeared  to  have  had  some- 
thing done  to  it :  sifted  through 
branches,  refracted,  messed 
about  somehow,  it  was  not  at 
all  the  stuff  you  wanted  just 
at  that  time.  You  see  the  like 
of  it  in  an  eclipse,  when  the 
sun  gives  a  queer  wink  at  the 


336 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


[Sept. 


earth  round  the  edge  of  a  black 
mask.  Very  nice,  too,  in  its 
place  ;  but  the  war  itself  was 
quite  enough  out  of  the  com- 
mon just  then — falling  skies  all 
over  the  place,  and  half  your 
dead  certainties  shaken. 

We  and  the  Germans  were 
both  in  The  Garden,  and  knew 
it.  But  nobody  showed.  Every- 
where else  on  the  Front  some- 
body showed  up  at  last ;  some- 
body fired.  But  here  nothing 
was  seen  or  heard  ever.  You 
found  you  were  whispering  and 
walking  on  tiptoe,  expecting 
you  didn't  know  what.  Have 
you  been  in  a  great  crypt  at 
twilight  under  a  church,  noth- 
ing round  you  but  endless  thin 
pillars,  holding  up  a  low  roof  f 
Suppose  there's  a  wolf  at  the 
far  end  of  the  crypt  and  you 
alone  at  the  other,  staring  and 
staring  into  the  thick  of  the 
pillars,  and  wondering,  wonder- 
ing— round  which  of  the  pillars 
will  that  grey  nose  come  rub- 
bing ? 

Why  not  smash  up  the  silly 
old  spell,  you  may  say — let  a 
good  yell,  loose  a  shot,  do  any 
sane  thing  to  break  out  ? 
That's  what  I  said  till  I  got 
there.  Our  unit  took  over  the 
place  from  the  French.  A 
French  platoon  sergeant,  my 
opposite  number,  showed  me 
the  quarters  and  posts  and 
the  like,  and  I  asked  the  usual 
question,  "  How's  the  old 
Boche  1  " 

"  Mais  assez  gentil,"  he  pat- 
tered. That  Gaul  was  not 
waiting  to  chat.  While  he 
showed  me  the  bomb-store,  he 
muttered  something  low,  hur- 


ried, and  blurred — "  Le  bon 
Dieu  Boche,"  I  think  it  was, 
had  created  the  orchard.  The 
Germans  themselves  were  "bons 
bourgeois  "  enough,  for  all  he 
had  seen  or  heard  of  them — 
"  Not  a  shot  in  three  weeks. 
Seulement,"  he  grinned,  half- 
shamefaced  and  half-confiden- 
tial, as  sergeant  to  sergeant, 
"  ne  faut  pas  les  embeter." 

I  knew  all  about  that.  French 
sergeants  were  always  like  that : 
dervishes  in  a  fight  when  it 
came,  but  dead  set,  at  all  other 
times,  on  living  paisiblement, 
smoking  their  pipes.  Paisible- 
ment— they  love  the  very  feel 
of  the  word  in  their  mouths. 
Our  men  were  no  warrior  race, 
but  they  all  hugged  the  belief 
that  they  really  were  marks- 
men, not  yet  found  out  by  the 
world.  They  would  be  shoot- 
ing all  night  at  clods,  heads  of 
posts,  at  anything  that  might 
pass  for  a  head.  Oh,  I  knew. 
Or  I  thought  so. 

But  no.  Not  a  shot  all  the 
night.  Nor  on  any  other  night 
either.  We  were  just  sucked 
into  the  hush  of  The  Garden, 
the  way  your  voice  drops  in  a 
church — when  you  go  in  at  the 
door  you  become  part  of  the 
system.  I  tried  to  think  why. 
Did  nobody  fire  just  because 
in  that  place  it  was  so  easy  for 
anybody  to  kill  1  No  trench 
could  be  dug ;  it  would  have 
filled  in  an  hour  with  water 
filtering  through  from  the  full 
stream  flanking  The  Garden. 
Sentries  stood  out  among  the 
fruit  trees,  behind  little  breast- 
works of  sods,  like  the  things 
you  use  to  shoot  grouse.  These 


1921.] 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


337 


screens   were  merely   a  form  ;    that  were  real  elsewhere.  Every 


they  would  scarcely  have  slowed 
down  a  bullet.    They  were  not 


thing  else  in  the  place  was  on 
queer  terms  with  reality  ;    so 


defences,  only  symbols  of  things    were  they. 


n. 


Our  first  event  was  the  shriek. 
It  was  absolutely  detached, 
unrelated  to  anything  seen  or 
heard  before  or  soon  after,  just 
like  the  sudden  fall  of  a  great 
tree  on  a  still  windless  day.  At 
three  o'clock  on  a  late  autumn 
morning,  a  calm  moonless  night, 
the  depths  of  The  Garden  in 
front  of  our  posts  yielded  a 
long  wailing  scream.  I  was 
making  a  round  of  our  posts 
at  the  time,  and  the  scream 
made  me  think  of  a  kind 
of  dream  I  had  had  twice  or 
thrice :  not  a  story  dream, 
but  a  portrait  dream ;  just 
a  vivid  rending  vision  of  the 
face  of  some  friend  with  a 
look  on  it  that  made  me  feel 
the  brute  I  must  have  been 
to  have  never  seen  how  he  or 
she  had  suffered,  and  how  little 
I  had  known  or  tried  to  know. 
I  could  not  have  fancied  before 
that  one  yell  could  tell  such  a 
lot  about  any  one.  Where  it 
came  from  there  must  be  some 
kind  of  hell  going  on  that 
went  beyond  all  the  hells  now 
in  the  books,  like  one  of  the 
stars  that  are  still  out  of  sight 
because  the  world  has  not 
lived  long  enough  to  give  time 
for  the  first  ray  of  light  from 
their  blaze  to  get  through  to 
our  eyes. 

I  found  the  sentries  jumpy. 
"  What  is  it,  sergeant,"  one  of 


them  almost  demanded  of  me, 
as  if  I  were  the  fellow  in  charge 
of  the  devils.  "  There's  no 
one  on  earth,"  he  said,  "  could 
live  in  that  misery."  Toomey 
himself,  the  red-headed  game- 
keeper out  of  the  County  Fer- 
managh, betrayed  some  per- 
turbation. He  hinted  that 
"  Thim  Wans "  were  in  it. 
"  Who  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Ach,  the 
Good  People,"  he  said,  with  a 
trace  of  reluctance.  Then  I 
remembered,  from  old  days  at 
school,  that  the  Greeks  too  had 
been  careful ;  they  called  their 
Furies  "  The  Well  -  disposed 
Ladies." 

All  the  rest  of  the  night 
there  was  not  a  sound  but  the 
owls.  The  sunless  day  that 
followed  was  quiet  till  2.30 
P.M.,  when  the  Hellhound  ap- 
peared. He  came  trotting 
briskly  out  of  the  orchard, 
rounding  stem  after  stem  of 
the  fruit  trees,  leapt  our  little 
formal  pretence  of  barbed  wire, 
and  made  straight  for  Toomey, 
as  any  dog  would.  It  was  a 
young  male  black-and-tan.  It 
adored  Toomey  till  three,  when 
he  was  relieved.  Then  it  came 
capering  around  him  in  ecstasy, 
back  to  the  big  living  cellar, 
a  hundred  yards  to  the  rear. 
At  the  door  it  heard  voices 
within  and  let  down  its  tail, 
ready  to  plead  lowliness  and 


338 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


[Sept. 


contrition  before  any  tribunal 
less  divine  than  Toomey. 

The  men,  or  most  of  them, 
were  not  obtrusively  divine 
just  then.  They  were  out  to 
take  anything  ill  that  might 
come.  All  the  hushed  days 
had  first  drawn  their  nerves 
tight,  and  then  the  scream  had 
cut  some  of  them.  All  bawled 
or  squeaked  in  the  cellar,  to 
try  to  feel  natural  after  the 
furtive  business  outside. 

"  Gawd  a'mighty  !  "  Looker 
shrilled  at  the  entry  of  Toomey, 
"  if  Fritz  ain't  sold  'im  a  pup  !  " 

Jeers  flew  from  all  parts 
of  the  smoky  half  -  darkness. 
"  Where's  licence,  Toomey  $  " 

"Sure  'e's  clean  in  th'  'ousel " 

"  'Tain't  no  Dogs  'Ome  'ere. 
Over  the  way  !  "  Corporal 
Mullen,  the  ever  friendly,  said 
to  Toomey,  more  mildly, 
"  Wot  !  Goin'  soft  1  " 

"  A  daycent  dog,  Corp,"  said 
Toomey.  "  He's  bruk  wi'  the 
Kaiser.  An'  I'll  engage  he's 
through  the  distemper.  Like 
as  not,  he'll  be  an  Alsatian." 
Toomey  retailed  these  com- 
mendations slowly,  with  pauses 
between,  to  let  them  sink  in. 

"  What '11  you  feed  him  I  " 
asked  Mullen,  inspecting  the 
points  of  the  beast  with  charity. 

"  Feed  'im  !  "  Looker 
squealed.  "  Feed  'im  into  th' 
incinerator !  " 

Toomey  turned  on  him. 
"  Aye,  an'  be  et  be  the  rats  !  " 

"  Fat  lot  o'  talk  'bout  rats," 
growled  Brunt,  the  White  Hope, 
the  company's  only  prize- 
fighter. "Tha'd  think  rats 
were  struttin'  down  fairway, 
shovin'  folk  off  duck-board." 


"  Ah  !  "  Looker  agreed.  "  An' 
roostin'  up  yer  armpit." 

"Thot's  reet,  Filthy,"  said 
Brunt.  We  all  called  Looker 
Filthy,  without  offence  meant 
or  taken. 

"  I'll  bet  'arf  a  dollar,"  said 
Looker,  eyeing  the  Hellhound 
malignantly,  "  the  'Tins  'ave 
loaded  'im  up  with  plague 
fleas.  Sent  'im  acrorse.  Wiv 
instructions." 

Toomey  protested.  "  Can't 
ye  see  the  dog  has  been  hit, 
ye  blind  man  f  "  In  fact,  the 
immigrant  kept  his  tail  licking 
expressively  under  his  belly 
except  when  it  lifted  under  the 
sunshine  of  Toomey's  regard. 

Brunt  rumbled  out  slow 
gloomy  prophecies  from  the 
gloom  of  his  corner.  "  'A'll 
be  tearin'  'imsel'  t'  bits  wi'  t' 
mange  in  a  fortneet.  Eat  for 
breakfas',  rat  for  dinner,  rat 
for  tea  ;  bit  o'  rat  las'  thing  at 
neet,  'fore  'e'll  stretch  down 
to  't." 

"  An'  that's  the  first  sinse 
ye've  talked,"  Toomey  con- 
ceded. "  A  rotten  diet-sheet 
is  ut.  An'  dirt !  An'  no 
kennel  the  time  the  roof  11 
start  drippin'.  A  dog's  life 
for  a  man,  an'  God  knows 
what  for  a  dog." 

We  felt  the  force  of  that. 
We  all  had  dogs  at  home. 
The  Hellhound  perhaps  felt 
our  ruth  in  the  air  like  a  rise 
of  temperature,  for  at  this 
point  he  made  a  couple  of 
revolutions  on  his  wheel  base 
to  get  the  pampas  grass  of  his 
imagination  comfortable  about 
him,  and  then  collapsed  in  a 
curve  and  lay  at  rest  with  his 


1921.] 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


339 


nose  to  the  ground  and  two 
soft  enigmatic  gleams  from  his 
eyes  raking  the  twilight  re- 
cesses of  our  dwelling.  For  the 
moment  he  was  relieved  of  the 
post  of  nucleus-in-chief  for  the 
vapours  of  fractiousness  to  con- 
dense upon. 

He  had  a  distinguished  suc- 
cessor. The  Company  Ser- 
geant -  Major,  no  less,  came 
round  about  five  minutes  after 
with  "  word  from  the  Colonel." 
Some  mischief,  all  our  hearts 
told  us  at  once.  They  were 
right  too.  The  Corps  had  sent 
word — just  what  it  would,  we 
inwardly  groaned.  The  Corps 
had  sent  word  that  G.H.Q. — 
Old  G.H.Q.  !  At  it  again  !  we 
savagely  thought.  We  knew 
what  was  coming.  Yes,  G.H.Q. 
wanted  to  know  what  German 
unit  was  opposite  to  us.  That 
meant  a  raid,  of  course.  The 
Colonel  couldn't  help  it.  Like 
all  sane  men  below  Brigade 
staffs,  he  hated  raids.  But 
orders  were  orders.  He  did 
all  he  could.  He  sent  word 
that  if  any  one  brought  in  a 
German,  dead  or  alive,  on  his 
own,  by  this  time  to-morrow, 
he,  the  Colonel,  would  give  him 
a  fiver.  Of  course  nobody 
could,  but  it  was  an  offer, 
meant  decently. 

Darkness  and  gnashing  of 
teeth,  grunts  and  snarls  of 
disgust,  filled  the  cellar  the 
moment  the  C.S.M.  had  de- 
parted. "  Gawd  'elp  us  !  " 
"  A  ride  !  In  The  Gawden  !  " 
"  'Oo  says  Gawd  made  gaw- 
dens  !  "  "  Ow  !  Everythink 
in  The  Gawden  is  lovely ! " 
"  Come  into  The  Gawden, 


Maud  !  "  You  see,  the  wit  of 
most  of  us  was  not  a  weapon 
of  precision.  Looker  came 
nearest,  perhaps,  to  the  point. 
"As  if  we  'ad  a  chawnce,"  he 
said,  "  to  gow  aht  rattin'  Ger- 
mans, wiv  a  sack  !  " 

"  We   gotten   dog   for't   ahl 
reet,"   said  Brunt.     This  was 
the  only  audible  trace  of  good 
humour.      Toomey    looked    at 
Brunt  quickly. 

Toomey  was  destined  to 
trouble  that  afternoon ;  one 
thing  came  after  another.  At 
3.25  I  sent  him  and  Brunt, 
with  a  clean  sack  apiece,  to 
the  Sergeant-Major's  dug-out 
for  the  rations.  They  came 
back  in  ten  minutes.  As  Too- 
mey gave  me  his  sack,  I  feared 
that  I  saw  a  thin  train  of  mixed 
black  and  white  dust  trending 
across  the  powdered  mortar 
floor  to  the  door.  Then  I  saw 
Looker,  rage  in  his  face,  take 
a  candle  and  follow  this  trail, 
stooping  down,  and  once  tast- 
ing the  stuff  on  a  wet  finger-tip. 

And  then  the  third  storm 
burst.  "  Christ !  "  Looker 
yelled.  "If  he  ain't  put  the 
tea  in  the  sack  with  the  'ole 
in  it !  " 

We  all  knew  that  leak  in  a 
bottom  corner  of  that  special 
sack  as  we  knew  every  very 
small  thing  in  our  life  of  small 
things — the  cracked  dixie-lid, 
the  brazier's  short  leg,  the 
way  that  Mynns  had  of  clear- 
ing his  throat,  and  Brunt  of 
working  his  jaws  before  spit- 
ting. Of  course,  the  sack  was 
all  right  for  loaves  and  the 
tinned  stuff.  But  tea  ! — loose 
tea  mixed  with  powdered  sugar ! 


340 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


[Sept. 


It  was  like  loading  a  patent 
seed- so  wing  machine  with  your 
fortune  in  gold-dust.  There 
was  a  general  groan  of  "  God 
help  us  !  "  with  extras.  In  this 
report  I  leave  out,  all  along, 
a  great  many  extras.  Print 
and  paper  are  dear. 

Looker  was  past  swearing. 
"  Plyin'  a  piper-chise  !  "  he 
ejaculated  with  venom.  "  All 
owver  Frawnce !  Wiv  our 
grub  !  " 

Toomey  was  sorely  distressed. 
He,  deep  in  whose  heart  was 
lodged  the  darling  vision  of 
Toomey  the  managing  head, 
the  contriver,  the  "  ould  lad 
that  was  in  ut,"  had  bungled 
a  job  fit  for  babes.  "  Ah,  then, 
who  could  be  givin'  his  mind 
to  the  tea,"  he  almost  moaned, 
"  an'  he  with  a  gran'  thought 
in  ut  f  " 

At  any  other  time  and  place 
the  platoon  would  have  settled 
down,  purring,  under  those 
words.  "  A  gran'  thought," 
"  a  great  idaya  " — when  Too- 
mey in  happier  days  had  owned 
to  being  in  labour  with  one 
of  those  heirs  of  his  invention, 
some  uncovenanted  mercy  had 
nearly  always  accrued  before 
long  to  his  friends — a  stew  of 
young  rabbits,  two  brace  of 
fat  pheasants,  once  a  mighty 
wild  goose.  The  tactician,  we 
understood  in  a  general  way, 
had  "  put  the  comether  upon  " 
them.  Now  even  those  de- 
licious memories  were  turned 
to  gall.  "  Always  the  sime  !  " 
Looker  snarled  at  the  fallen 
worker  of  wonders.  "  Always 
the  sime !  Ye  cawn't  'ave  a  bit 


o'  wire  sived  up  for  pipe- 
cleanin'  without  'e'll  loan  it  off 
yer  to  go  snarin'  'ares."  Looker 
paused  for  a  moment,  gathering 
all  the  resources  of  wrath,  and 
then  he  swiftly  scaled  the  high 
top-gallant  of  ungraciousness  : 
"  'E  wiv  the  'ole  platoon  work- 
in'  awaye  for  'im,  pluckin'  paw- 
tridge  an'  snipes,  the  'ole  wye 
up  from  the  sea  !  Top  end  o' 
Frawnce  is  all  a  muck  o' 
feathers  wiv  'im  !  " 

All  were  good  men  ;  Looker, 
like  Toomey,  a  very  good  man. 
It  was  only  their  nerves  that 
had  gone,  and  the  jolly  power 
of  gay  and  easy  relentment 
after  a  jar.  However  they 
tried,  they  could  not  cease 
yapping.  I  went  out  for  a 
drink  of  clean  air.  If  you  are 
to  go  on  loving  mankind,  you 
must  take  a  rest  from  it  some- 
times. As  I  went  up  the  steps 
from  the  cellar  the  rasping 
jangle  from  below  did  not 
cease ;  it  only  sank  on  my 
ears  as  I  went.  "  Ow,  give  us 
'Owm  Eule  for  England,  Gord's 
sike  !  "  "  Sye  there  ain't  no 
towds  in  Irelan',  do  they  ?  " 
"Filthy,  I've  tould  ye  I'm 

sorry   an' "     "  Gam,   both 

on  yer  !  Ol'  gas  projectors  !  " 
"  Begob,  if  ye  want  an  eye 

knocked  from  ye  then !  " 

I  nearly  went  back,  but  then 
I  heard  Corporal  Mullen,  pa- 
ternal and  firm,  like  Neptune 
rebuking  the  winds,  "  Now, 
then,  we  don't  none  of  us  want 
to  go  losing  our  heads  about 
nothing."  No  need  to  trouble. 
Mullen  would  see  to  the  chil- 
dren. 


1921.] 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


341 


in. 


I  went  east  into  The  Garden. 
Ungathered  apples  were  going 
to  loss  on  its  trees.  I  stood 
looking  at  one  of  them  for  a 
time,  and  then  it  suddenly  de- 
tached itself  and  fell  to  the 
ground  with  a  little  thud  and 
a  splash  of  squashed  brown 
rottenness,  as  if  my  eye  had 
plucked  it.  After  that  sound 
the  stillness  set  in  again  :  still- 
ness of  autumn,  stillness  of 
vigilant  fear,  and  now  the  still- 
ness of  oncoming  evening,  the 
nun,  to  make  it  more  cloistral. 
No  silence  so  deep  but  that  it 
can  be  deepened  ?  As  minutes 
passed,  infinitesimal  whispers — 
I  think  from  mere  wisps  of 
eddies,  twisted  round  snags  in 
the  stream — began  to  lift  into 
hearing.  Deepening  silence  is 
only  the  rise  into  clearness  of 
this  or  that  more  confidential 
utterance. 

I  must  have  been  sucking 
that  confidence  in  for  a  good 
twenty  minutes  before  I  turned 
with  a  start.  I  had  to,  I  did 
not  know  why.  It  seemed  as 
if  some  sense,  which  I  did  not 
know  I  had  got,  told  me  that 
some  one  was  stealing  up  be- 
hind me.  No  one  there  ;  noth- 
ing but  Arras,  the  vacuous 
city,  indistinct  among  her 
motionless  trees.  She  al- 
ways seemed  to  be  listening 
and  frightened.  It  was  as 
if  the  haggard  creature  had 
stirred. 

I  looked  to  my  front  again, 
rather  ashamed.  Was  I  losing 
hold  too,  I  wondered,  as  I 


gazed  level  out  into  the  Seam 
and  watched  the  mist  deepen- 
ing. Each  evening,  that  au- 
tumn, a  quilt  of  very  white 
mist  would  come  out  of  the 
soaked  soil  of  The  Garden,  lay 
itself  out,  flat  and  dense,  but 
shallow  at  first,  over  the  grass, 
and  then  deepen  upward  as 
twilight  advanced,  first  sub- 
merging the  tips  of  the  grass 
and  the  purple  snake-headed 
flowers,  and  then  thickening 
steadily  up  till  the  whole  Six- 
Foot  Seam  was  packed  with 
milky  opaqueness. 

Sixty  yards  out  from  our 
front  a  heron  was  standing, 
immobilised,  in  the  stream, 
staring  down — for  a  last  bit  of 
fishing,  no  doubt.  As  I  watched 
him,  his  long  head  came  sud- 
denly round  and  half  up.  He 
listened.  He  stood  like  that, 
warily,  for  a  minute,  then 
seemed  to  decide  it  was  no 
place  for  him,  hoisted  himself 
off  the  ground,  and  winged 
slowly  away  with  great  flaps. 
I  felt  cold,  and  thought,  "  What 
a  time  I've  been  loafing  round 
here  !  "  But  I  found  it  was 
four  o'clock  only.  I  thought 
I  would  go  on  and  visit  my 
sentries,  the  three  o'clock  men 
who  would  come  off  duty  at 
five.  It  would  warm  me  ;  and 
one  or  two  of  the  young  ones 
were  apt  to  be  creepy  about 
sundown. 

Schofield,  the  lad  in  one  of 
our  most  advanced  posts,  was 
waist-deep  in  the  mist  when  I 
reached  him. 


342 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


[Sept. 


"  Owt,  boy  VI  whispered. 
He  was  a  North-country  man. 

"  Nowt,  Sergeant,"  he  whis- 
pered, "  barrin' — "  He  checked. 
He  was  one  of  the  stout  ones 
you  couldn't  trust  to  yell  out 
for  help  if  the  devil  were  at 
them. 

"  What's  wrong  VI  asked 
pretty  sharply. 

"Nobbut  t'way,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  they  deucks  doan't 
seem  t'  be  gettin'  down  to  it 
to-neet."  My  eye  followed  his 
through  the  boughs  to  the 
pallid  sky.  A  flight  of  wild- 
duck  were  whirling  and  counter- 
whirling  aloft  in  some  wild  pas 
d'inquiStude.  Yes ;  no  doubt 
our  own  duck  that  had  come 
during  the  war,  with  the  herons 
and  snipe,  to  live  in  The  Gar- 
den, the  untrodden  marsh, 
where,  between  the  two  lines 
of  rifles  never  unloaded,  no 
shot  was  ever  heard,  and  snipe 
were  safe  from  all  snipers.  A 
good  lad,  Schofield  ;  he  always 
took  notice  of  things.  But 
what  possessed  the  creatures  ? 
What  terror  infested  their  quar- 
ters to-night  ? 

I  looked  Schofield  over.  He 
was  as  near  to  dead  white  as 
a  tanned  man  can  come — that 
is,  a  bad  yellow.  But  he  could 
be  left.  A  man  that  keeps  on 
taking  notice  of  things  he  can 
see,  instead  of  imagining  ones 
that  he  can't,  is  a  match  for  the 
terror  that  walketh  by  twilight. 
I  stole  on  to  our  most  advanced 
post  of  all.  There  I  was  not 
so  sure  of  my  man.  He  was 
Mynns.  We  called  him  Billy 
Wisdom,  because  he  was  a 
schoolmaster  in  civil  life — some 


Council  School  at  Hoggerston. 
"  What  cheer,  Billy  VI  whis- 
pered. "  Anything  to  report  1  " 

The  mist  was  armpit  deep 
on  him  now,  but  the  air  quite 
clear  above  that ;  so  that  from 
three  feet  off  I  saw  his  head 
and  shoulders  well,  and  his 
bayonet ;  nothing  else  at  all. 
He  did  not  turn  when  I  spoke, 
nor  unfix  his  eyes  from  the 
point  he  had  got  them  set  on, 
in  front  of  his  post  and  a  little 
below  their  own  level.  "  All 
—  quiet  —  and  correct  —  Ser- 
geant," he  said,  as  if  each 
word  were  a  full  load  and  had 
to  be  hauled  by  itself.  I  had 
once  seen  a  man  drop  his  rifle 
and  bolt  back  overland  from 
his  post,  to  trial  and  execution 
and  anything  rather  than  that 
everlasting  wait  for  a  bayonet's 
point  to  come  lunging  up  out 
of  thick  mist  in  front  and  a 
little  below  him,  into  the  gullet, 
under  the  chin.  Billy  was  near 
bolting-point,  I  could  tell  by 
more  senses  than  one.  He  was 
losing  hold  on  one  bodily  func- 
tion after  another,  but  still 
hanging  on  hard  to  something, 
some  grip  of  the  spirit  that 
held  from  second  to  second 
after  muscle  had  mutinied  and 
nerve  was  gone. 

He  had  hardly  spoken  before 
a  new  torment  wrung  him. 
The  whole  landscape  suddenly 
gave  a  quick  shiver.  The  single 
poplar,  down  the  stream,  just 
perceptibly  shuddered  and 
rustled,  and  then  was  dead 
still  again.  A  bed  of  rushes, 
nearer  us,  swayed  for  an  in- 
stant, and  stood  taut  again. 
Absurd,  you  will  say.  And, 


1921.] 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


343 


of  course,  it  was  only  a  faint 
breath  of  wind,  the  only  stir 
in  the  air  all  that  day.  But 
you  were  not  there.  So  you 
cannot  feel  how  the  cursed 
place  had  tried  to  shake  itself 
free  of  its  curse,  and  had  failed, 
and  fallen  rigid  again,  dreeing 
its  weird,  and  poor  Billy  with 
it.  His  hold  on  his  tongue 
was  what  he  lost  now.  He 
began  to  wail,  under  his  breath, 
"  Christ,  pity  me  !  Oh,  suffer- 
ing Christ,  pity  me  !  "  He  was 
still  staring  hard  to  his  front, 
but  I  had  got  a  hand  ready  to 
grab  at  his  belt  when,  from 
somewhere  out  in  the  mist 
before  us,  there  came,  short 
and  crisp,  the  crack  of  a  dead 
branch  heavily  trodden  upon. 

Billy  was  better  that  instant. 
Better  an  audible  enemy,  one 
with  a  body,  one  that  could 
trample  on  twigs,  than  that 
horrible  infestation  of  life  with 
impalpable  sinisterness.  Billy 
turned  with  a  grin — ghastly 
enough,  but  a  grin. 

"  Hold  your  fire,"  I  said  in 
his  ear,  "  till  I  order."  I  made 
certain  dispositions  of  bombs 
on  a  little  shelf.  Then  we 
waited,  listening,  second  by 
second.  I  think  both  our  ears 
must  have  flicked  like  a  mule's. 
But  the  marvel  came  in  at  the 
eye.  We  both  saw  the  vision 
at  just  the  same  instant.  It 
was  some  fifty  yards  from  us, 
straight  to  our  front.  It  sat 
on  the  top  of  the  mist  as  though 
mist  were  ice  and  would  bear. 
It  was  a  dog  of  the  very  same 
breed  as  the  Hellhound,  sit- 
ting upright  like  one  of  the 
beasts  that  support  coats-of- 


arms  ;  all  proper,  too,  as  the 
heralds  would  say,  with  the 
black-and-tan  as  in  life.  The 
image  gazed  at  us  fixedly. 
How  long  ?  Say,  twenty  sec- 
onds. Then  it  about-turned 
without  any  visible  use  of  its 
limbs,  and  receded  some  ten 
or  twelve  yards,  still  sitting 
up  and  now  rhythmically  rising 
and  falling  as  though  the  mist 
it  rode  upon  were  undulating. 
Then  it  clean  vanished.  I 
thought  it  sank,  as  if  the  mist 
had  ceased  to  bear.  Billy 
thought  the  beast  just  melted 
into  the  air  radially,  all  round, 
as  rings  made  of  smoke  do. 

You  know  the  crazy  cool- 
ness, a  sort  of  false  presence 
of  mind,  that  will  come  in  and 
fool  you  a  little  bit  further  at 
these  moments  of  staggering 
dislocation  of  cause  and  effect. 
One  of  these  waves  of  mad 
rationalism  broke  on  me  now. 
I  turned  quickly  round  to  de- 
tect the  cinema  lantern  behind 
us  which  must  have  projected 
the  dog's  moving  figure  upon 
the  white  sheet  of  mist.  None 
there,  of  course.  Only  the 
terrified  city,  still  there,  aghast, 
with  held  breath. 

Then  all  my  anchors  gave 
together.  I  was  adrift ;  there 
was  nothing  left  certain.  I 
thought,  "  What  if  all  we  are 
sure  of  be  just  a  mistake,  and 
our  sureness  about  it  conceit, 
and  we  no  better  than  puppies 
ourselves  to  wonder  that  dogs 
should  be  taking  their  ease  in 
mid-air  and  an  empty  orchard 
be  shrieking  ?  "  While  I  was 
drifting,  I  happened  to  notice 
the  sleepy  old  grumble  of  guns 


344 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


[Sept. 


from  the  rest  of  the  front,  and 
I  envied  those  places.  Sane, 
normal  places  ;  happy  all  who 
were  there  ;  only  their  earth- 
works were  tumbling,  not  the 
last  few  certainties  that  we  men 
think  we  have  got  hold  of. 

All  of  this,  of  course,  had 
to  go  on  in  my  own  mind  be- 
hind a  shut  face.  For  Billy 
was  one  of  the  nerve  special- 
ists ;  he  might  get  a  V.C.  or 
be  shot  in  a  walled  yard  at 
dawn,  according  to  how  he  was 
handled.  So  I  was  prilling  my 
wits  together  a  little  to  dish 
out  some  patter  fit  for  his  case 
— you  know,  the  "  bright, 
breezy,  brotherly"  bilge — when 
the  next  marvel  came.  A 
sound  this  time — a  voice,  too  ; 
no  shriek,  not  even  loud,  but 
tranquil,  articulate,  slow,  and 
so  distant  that  only  the  deathly 
stillness  which  gave  high  relief 
to  every  bubble  that  burst  with 
a  plop,  out  in  the  marsh,  could 
bring  the  words  to  us  at  all. 
"  Has  anny  wan  here  lost  a 
dog  ?  Anny  wan  lost  a  good 
dog  f  Hoond  *  Goot  hoond  ? 
Anny  wan  lost  a  goot  hoond  *  " 

You  never  can  tell  how  things 
will  take  you.  I  swear  I  was 
right  out  of  that  hellish  place 
for  a  minute  or  more,  alive 
and  free  and  back  at  home 
among  the  lost  delights  of 
Epsom  Downs,  between  the 
races ;  the  dear  old  smelly 
crowd  all  over  the  course,  and 
the  merchant  who  carries  a 
tray  crying,  "  'Oo'll  'ave  a 
good  cigar,  gents  ?  Two  pence  ! 
'Oo  wants  a  good  cigar  ?  'Oo 
says  a  good  smoke  ?  "  And 
the  sun  shining  good  on  all  the 


bookies  and  crooks  by  the  rails, 
the  just  and  unjust,  all  jolly 
and  natural.  Better  than  Lear's 
blasted  heath  and  your  mind 
running  down ! 

You  could  see  the  relief 
settle  on  Mynns  like  oil  going 
on  to  a  burn  on  your  hand. 
Have  you  seen  an  easy  death 
in  bed  "? — the  yielding  sigh  of 
peace  and  the  sinking  inwards, 
the  weary  job  over  ?  It  was 
like  that.  He  breathed  "  That 
Irish  swine  !  "  in  a  voice  that 
made  it  a  blessing.  I  felt  the 
same,  but  more  uneasily.  One 
of  my  best  was  out  there  in  the 
wide  world,  having  God  knew 
what  truck  with  the  enemy. 
Any  Brass  Hat  that  came  loaf- 
ing round  might  think,  in  his 
blinded  soul,  that  Toomey  was 
fraternising  ;  whereas  Toomey 
was  dead  or  prisoner  by  now, 
or  as  good,  unless  delivered  by 
some  miracle  of  gumption  sur- 
passing all  his  previous  prac- 
tices against  the  brute  creation. 
We  could  do  nothing,  could  not 
even  guess  where  he  was  in  the 
fog.  It  had  risen  right  up  to 
the  boughs  ;  the  whole  Seam 
was  packed  with  it,  tight.  No 
one  but  he  who  had  put  his 
head  into  the  mouth  of  the 
tiger  could  pull  it  out  now. 

We  listened  on,  with  pricked 
ears.  Voices  we  certainly 
heard ;  yes,  more  than  one  ; 
but  not  a  word  clear.  And 
voices  were  not  what  I  harked 
for  ;  it  was  for  the  shot  that 
would  be  the  finish  of  Toomey. 
I  remembered  during  the  next 
twenty  minutes  quite  a  lot  of 
good  points  about  Toomey.  I 
found  that  I  had  never  had  a 


1921.] 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


345 


sulky  word  from  him,  for  one. 
At  the  end  of  the  twenty  min- 
utes the  voices  finally  stopped. 
But  no  shot  came.  A  prisoner, 
then? 

The  next  ten  minutes  were 
bad.  Towards  the  end  of  the 
two  hours  for  which  they  lasted, 
I  could  have  fancied  the  spook 
symptoms  were  starting  again. 
For  out  of  the  mist  before  us 
there  came  something  that  was 
not  seen,  or  heard,  or  felt ; 
no  one  sense  could  fasten  upon 
it ;  only  a  mystic  conscious- 


ness came  of  some  approaching 
displacement  of  the  fog.  The 
blind,  I  believe,  feel  the  same 
when  they  come  near  a  lamp- 
post. Slowly  this  undefined 
source  of  impressions  drew  near, 
from  out  the  uncharted  spaces 
beyond,  to  the  frontiers  of 
hearing  and  sight,  slipped  across 
them  and  took  form,  at  first 
as  the  queerest  tangle  of  two 
sets  of  limbs,  and  then  as 
Toomey  bearing  on  one  shoulder 
a  large  corpse,  already  stiff, 
clothed  in  field-grey. 


IV. 


"  May  I  come  in,  Sergeant  ?  " 
said  Toomey,  "  an'  bring  me 
sheaves  wid  me  ?  "  The  pride 
of  'cuteness  shone  from  his  eyes 
like  a  lamp  through  the  fog  ; 
his  voice  had  the  urbanely 
affected  humility  of  the  con- 
sciously great. 

"You  may,"  said  I,  "if 
you've  given  nothing  away." 

"  I  have  not,"  said  he.  "  I'm 
an  importer  entirely.  Me  ex- 
ports are  nil."  He  rounded  the 
flank  of  the  breastwork  and 
laid  the  body  tenderly  down, 
as  a  collector  would  handle  a 
Strad.  "  There  wasn't  the 
means  of  an  identification  about 
me.  Me  shoulder  titles,  me 
badge,  me  pay-book,  me  small- 
book,  me  disc,  an'  me  howl 
correspondence — I  left  all  be- 
yant  in  the  cellar.  They'd  not 
have  got  value  that  tuk  me." 
Toomey's  face  was  all  one  wink. 
To  value  himself  on  his  courage 
would  never  enter  his  head. 
It  was  a  sense  of  the  giant 


intellect  within  that  filled  him 
with  triumph. 

I  inspected  the  bulging  eyes 
of  the  dead.  "  Did  you  strangle 
him  sitting  1  "  I  asked. 

"  Not  at  all.  Amn't  I  just 
after  tradin'  the  dog  for 
him  ?  "  Then,  in  the  proper 
whisper,  Toomey  made  his 
report : — 

"  Ye '11  remember  the  whilla- 
balooin'  there  was  at  meself  in 
the  cellar.  Leppin'  they  were, 
at  the  loss  of  the  tea.  The  ind 
of  it  was  that  '  I'm  goin'  out 
now,'  I  said,  '  to  speak  to  a 
man,'  said  I,  '  about  a  dog,' 
an'  I  quitted  the  place,  an' 
the  dog  with  me,  knockin'  his 
nose  against  every  lift  of  me 
heel.  I'd  a  gran'  thought  in 
my  head,  to  make  them  whisht 
thinkin'  bad  of  me.  Very  near 
where  the  lad  Schofiel'  is,  I 
set  out  for  Germ'ny,  stoopin' 
low,  to  get  all  the  use  of  the 
fog.  Did  you  notus  me,  Ser- 
geant ?  " 


346 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


[Sept. 


"  Breaking  the  firewood  ?  " 
I  said. 

"  Aye,  I  med  sure  that  ye 
would.  So  I  signalled." 

Now  I  perceived.  Toomey 
went  on.  "I  knew,  when  I 
hild  up  the  dog  on  the  palm 
of  me  hand,  ye'd  see  where  I 
was,  an'  where  going.  Then 
I  wint  on,  deep  into  th'  East. 
Their  wire  is  nothin'  at  all ; 
it's  the  very  spit  of  our  own. 
I  halted  among  ut,  an'  gev 
out  a  notus,  in  English  and 
German,  kapin'  down  well  in 
the  fog  to  rejuice  me  losses. 
They  didn't  fire — ye'll  have 
heard  that.  They  sint  for  the 
man  with  the  English.  An', 
by  the  will  of  God,  he  was  the 
same  man  that  belonged  to  the 
dog." 

"  '  Hans,'  says  I,  courcheous 
but  firrum,  '  the  dog  is  well  off 
where  he  is.  Will  you  come  to 
him  quietly  !  ' 

"  I  can't  just  give  ye  his 
words,  but  the  sinse  of  them 
only.  '  What  are  ye  doin'  at 
all,'  he  says,  '  askin'  a  man  to 
desert  !  ' 

"  There  was  trouble  in  that 
fellow's  voice.  It  med  me 
ashamed.  But  I  wint  on,  an' 
only  put  double  strenth  in  me 
temptin's.  '  Me  Colonel,'  I 
told  him, '  is  offerin'  five  pounds 
for  a  prisoner.  Come  back  with 
me  now  an'  ye'll  have  fifty 
francs  when  I  get  the  reward. 
Think  over  ut  well.  Fifty 
francs  down.  There's  a  gran' 
lot  of  spendin'  in  that.  An' 
ye'll  be  with  the  dog.'  As  I 
offered  him  each  injuicement, 
I  lifted  the  tirrier  clear  of  the 
mist  for  two  sicconds  or  three, 


to  keep  the  man  famished  wid 
longin'.  Ye  have  to  be  crool 
in  a  war.  Aich  time  that  I 
lowered  the  dog  I  lep  two 
paces  north,  under  the  fog, 
to  bedivil  their  aim  if  they'd 
fire. 

"  '  Ach,  to  hell  wi'  your 
francs  an'  your  pounds  !  '  says 
he  in  his  ag'ny.  '  Give  me  me 
dog  or  I'll  shoot.  I  see  where 
ye  are.' 

"  '  I'm  not  there  at  all,'  says 
I,  '  an'  the  dog's  in  front  of  me 
bosom.' 

"  Ye'll  understan',  Ser- 
geant," Toomey  said  to  me 
gravely,  "  that  las'  was  a  roose. 
I'd  not  do  the  like  o'  that  to 
a  dog,  anny  more  than  your- 
self. 

"  The  poor  divil  sckewed  in 
his  juice  for  a  while,  very  qui-ut. 
Then  he  out  with  an  offer. 
'  Will  ye  take  sivinty  francs 
for  the  dog  ?  It's  the  whole  of 
me  property.  An'  it  only 
comes  short  be  five  francs  of 
th'  entire  net  profuts  ye'd 
make  on  the  fiver,  an'  I  comin' 
wid  you.' 

"  '  I  will  not,'  says  I,  faint 
and  low.  It  was  tormint,  re- 
fusin'  the  cash. 

"  '  Won't  anny  thin'  do  ye,' 
says  he  in  despair,  '  but  a  live 
wan  $  ' 

"  '  Depinds,'  says  I  pensively, 
playin'  me  fish.  I  hild  up  the 
dog  for  a  siccond  again,  to  kape 
his  sowl  workin'. 

"  He  plunged  at  the  sight 
of  the  creature.  '  Couldn't  ye 
do  with  a  body  ?  '  he  says  very 
low.' 

" '  Depinds,'  says  I,  mar- 
vellin'  was  ut  a  human  sacrifice 


1921.] 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


347 


he  was  for  makin',  the  like  of 
the  Druids,  to  get  back  the  dog. 

"  '  Not  fourteen  hours  back,' 
says  he,  '  he  died  on  us.' 

"  '  Was  he  wan  of  your- 
selves ?  '  says  I.  '  A  nice  fool 
I'd  look  if  I  came  shankin' 
back  from  the  fair  wid  a  bit  of 
the  wrong  unit.' 

"  '  He  was,'  says  he,  '  an' 
the  best  of  us  all.'  An'  then 
he  went  on,  wid  me  puttin'  in 
a  word  now  and  then,  or  a 
glimpse  of  the  dog,  to  kape 
him  desirous  an'  gabbin'. 
There's  no  use  in  cheapenin' 
your  wares.  He  let  on  how 
this  fellow  he  spoke  of  had 
niver  joyed  since  they  came 
to  that  place,  an'  gone  mad  at 
the  finish,  wi'  not  gettin'  his 
sleep  without  he'd  be  seein' 
Thim  Wans  in  a  dream  an' 
hearin'  the  Banshies ;  the  way 
he  bruk  out  at  three  in  the 
mornin'  that  day,  apt  to  cut 
anny  in  two  that  would  offer 
to  hold  him.  '  Here's  out  of 
ut  all,'  he  appeared  to  have 
said  ;  '  I've  lived  through  ivery 
room  in  hell :  how  long,  O  Lord, 
how  long,  but  it's  glory  an' 
victory  now,'  an'  off  an'  away 
wid  him  West,  through  The 
Garden.  '  Ye'll  not  have  seen 
him  at  all  ?  '  said  me  friend. 
We  hadn't  notussed,  I  told 
him.  '  We  were  right,  then,' 
says  he  ;  '  he'll  have  died  on  the 
way.  For  he  let  a  scream  in 
the  night  that  a  man  couldn't 
give  an'  live  after.  If  he'd 
fetched  up  at  your  end,'  says 
he,  '  you'd  have  known,  for  he 
was  as  brave  as  a  lion.' 

"  '  A  livin'  dog's  better,'  says 
I,  'than  anny  dead  lion.  It's 


a  Jew's  bargain  you're  makin'. 
Where's  the  decay sed  ?  ' 

"  '  Pass  me  the  dog,'  says 
he,  '  an'  I'll  give  ye  his  route 
out  from  here  to  where  he'll 
have  dropped.  It's  his  point 
of  deparchure  I  stand  at.' 

"Til  come  to  ye  there,' 
says  I,  '  an'  ye'll  give  me  his 
bearin's,  an'  when  I've  sot 
eyes  on  me  man  I'll  come  back 
an'  han'  ye  the  dog,  an'  not 
sooner.' 

"  He  was  spaichless  a  mo- 
ment. '  Come  now,'  says  I, 
from  me  lair  in  the  fog,  '  wan 
of  the  two  of  us  has  to  be 
trustful.  I'll  not  let  ye  down.' 

"  '  Ye'll  swear  to  come  back  f ' 
says  he  in  great  anguish. 

"  I  said,  '  Tubbe  sure.' 

"  '  Come  on  wid  ye,  then,'  he 
answered. 

"  I  went  stoopin'  along  to 
within  six  feet  of  his.  voice, 
the  way  ye'd  swim  under  water, 
an'  then  I  came  to  the  surface. 
His  clayey-white  face  an'  the 
top  of  his  body  showed  over  a 
breas'-work  the  moral  of  ours. 
An',  be  cripes,  ut  was  all  right. 
The  red  figures  were  plain  on 
his  shoulder-strap — wan  eighty- 
six.  Another  breas'-work,  the 
fellow  to  his,  was  not  thirty 
yards  south.  There  was  jus' 
the  light  left  me  to  see  that  the 
sintry  there  was  wan  eighty- six 
too.  I'd  inspicted  the  goods  in 
bulk  now,  an'  had  only  to  see 
to  me  sample,  and  off  home 
wid  it." 

Toomey  looked  benedictively 
down  at  the  long  stiff  frame 
with  its  Iron  Cross  ribbon  and 
red  worsted  "186."  "An  ould 
sthorm-trooper ! "  Toomey  com- 


348 


A  Trade  Report  Only. 


[Sept. 


mendingly  said.  "  His  friend 
gev  me  the  line  to  him.  Then 
he  got  anxious.  '  Ye'll  bury 
him  fair  ?  '  he  said.  '  Is  he  a 
Prod'stant  ?  '  said  I,  'or  a 
Cath'lic  ?  '  'A  good  Cath'lic,' 
says  he  ;  '  we're  Bavarians 
here.'  'Good,'  says  I;  'I'll 
speak  to  Father  Moloney  me- 
self.'  '  An'  yell  come  back,' 
says  he,  '  wi'  the  dog  1  '  'I 
will  not,'  says  I,  '  I  shall  hand 
him  ye  now.  Ye're  a  straight 
man  not  to  ha'  shot  me  before. 
Besides,  ye're  a  Cath'lic  ?  '  So 
I  passed  him  the  an'mal,  and 
off  on  me  journey.  Not  the 
least  trouble  at  all,  findin'  the 
body.  The  birds  was  all  but 
pointin'  to  ut.  They  hated  ut. 
Begob,  that  fellow  had  seen  the 
quare  things."  Toomey  looked 
down  again,  at  the  monstrously 
starting  eyes  of  his  capture, 
bursting  with  agonies  more  fan- 
tastic, I  thought,  than  any 
that  stare  from  the  bayoneted 
dead  in  a  trench. 

"The  man  wi'  the  dog," 
Toomey  said,  "  may  go  the 
same  road.  His  teeth  were  all 
knockin'  together.  A  match 
for  your  own,  Billy."  In 
trenches  you  did  not  pretend 
not  to  know  all  about  one  an- 
other, the  best  and  the  worst. 


In  that  screenless  life  friend- 
ship frankly  condoled  with  weak 
nerves  or  an  ugly  face  or  black 
temper. 

"  Sergeant,"  said  Toomey, 
"  ye '11  help  me  indent  for  the 
fiver  ?  A  smart  drop  of  drink 
it'll  be  for  the  whole  of  the 
boys." 

I  nodded.  "  Bring  him 
along,"  I  said,  "  now." 

"  Well,  God  ha'  mercy  on  his 
soul,"  said  Toomey,  hoisting 
the  load  up  on  to  his  back. 

"And  of  all  Christian  souls, 
I  pray  God."  I  did  not  say  it. 
Only  Ophelia's  echo,  crossing 
my  mind.  How  long  would 
Mynns  last  ?  Till  I  could 
wangle  his  transfer  to  the  Divi- 
sional laundry  or  gaff  ? 

I  brought  Toomey  along  to 
claim  the  fruit  of  his  guile. 
We  had  to  pass  Schofield.  He 
looked  more  at  ease  in  his  mind 
than  before.  I  asked  the  rou- 
tine question.  "  Ahl  correct, 
Sergeant,"  he  answered. 
"  Deucks  is  coom  dahn.  Birds 
is  ahl  stretchin'  dahn  to  it, 
proper." 

Its  own  mephitic  mock-peace 
was  refilling  The  Garden.  But 
no  one  can  paint  a  miasma. 
Anyhow,  I  am  not  trying  to. 
This  is  a  trade  report  only. 


1921.] 


349 


TWO  HOTELS. 

BY  HOPE  DAWLISH. 

I. — THE  WAGONS  LITS  HOTEL,   PEKING. 
A  PRE-WAR  RECOLLECTION. 


CARAVANSERAI,  Sanctuary, 
Oasis  !  I  hardly  know  which 
is  the  more  appropriate  to 
describe  that  unique  hostelry 
in  the  turning  off  Legation 
Street  which  leads  to  the  Peking 
Eailway  Station :  the  road 
which  all  must  travel  when, 
nothing  accomplished,  nothing 
done,  weary  of  the  struggle 
for  life  in  the  capital  of  China, 
they  give  it  up.  It  has  some 
of  the  characteristics  of  each, 
many  which  are  peculiar  to 
itself. 

A  fascinating  place,  Legation 
Quarter  ;  that  at  least  is  the 
first  impression  it  makes  on 
your  mind ;  but  a  cruel  place 
when  you  come  to  know  it  as 
the  mark  which  the  commercial 
travellers  for  Christendom  have 
stamped  on  the  face  of  an 
ancient  civilisation. 

A  city  within  a  city  ;  rest- 
ing on  one  side,  for  safety's 
sake,  on  that  city's  wall,  on 
the  other  cutting  itself  off 
from  the  common  streets  by 
a  "  glacis,"  and  Legation  Street 
running  through  it  from  eastern 
gate  to  western ;  arrogating 
to  itself  full  privileges  of  muni- 
cipal government,  with  right 
of  citizenship ;  a  very  prac- 
tical and  tangible  example  of 
imperium  in  imperio.  Yet  justi- 


fying its  anomalous  position 
by  profession  of  a  great  inter- 
national altruism,  the  promo- 
tion of  the  wellbeing  of  some 
four  hundred  millions  of  men 
and  women  who  care  not  one 
snap  of  the  finger  for  this  ten- 
der solicitude,  who  are  about  as 
much  impressed  by  it  as  the 
sandy  wastes  under  the  city 
wall  by  the  camels  padding 
along  with  their  loads  of  rice. 
Government  largely  depends  on 
phrases  and  formulas.  The 
formula  which  the  western  poli- 
tician has  devised  as  a  cure  for 
all  the  ills  which  this  distracted 
country  is  heir  to,  is  the  need 
for  a  "United  China."  It 
sounds  all  right ;  and  is,  in 
fact,  a  consummation  devoutly 
to  be  wished.  But  for  its 
achievement  something  more  is 
necessary  than  pious  aspira- 
tions. There  was  a  time,  not 
so  long  ago,  when  a  little 
judicious  and  friendly  guidance 
might  have  helped  to  bring  it 
about,  and  would  not  have 
been  unwelcomed.  As  it  is, 
the  North  and  the  South,  in- 
comprehensible to  one  another 
both  in  language  and  idea, 
have  as  little  chance  of  uniting 
in  brotherly  government  as, 
to  use  the  homely  simile,  cat 
and  dog.  The  only  method 


350 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


which  we  have  so  far  resorted 
to  for  bringing  about  that 
which  would  benefit  ourselves 
as  well  as  China,  is  the  primi- 
tive one  of  supplying  money 
to  enable  her  to  carry  on,  and 
assuming  control  of  certain  of 
her  resources  which,  well  man- 
aged, are  likely  to  bring  us  our 
money  back.  The  Consortium, 
a  politico-financial  body,  was 
devised  to  help  China  out  of  the 
difficulties  into  which  an  un- 
toward fate  had  plunged  her, 
not  without  substantial  advan- 
tage to  the  various  Banking 
Corporations  which  composed 
it. 

The  members  of  the  Con- 
sortium looked  askance  at  much 
that  went  on  in  the  Wagons 
Lits,  for  some  of  it  ran  counter 
to  their  policy.  In  solemn 
conclave  they  worked  out  the 
salvation  of  China  after  their 
own  plan — the  limited  nature 
of  the  policy  considered,  per- 
haps the  wiser  plan,  if  only  it 
could  have  been  carried  through 
by  less  cumbersome  methods. 
If,  in  the  simple  affairs  of  life, 
"  two's  company,  three's  none  " 
is  the  condensation  of  prac- 
tical wisdom,  it  is  infinitely 
more  true  of  that  complicated 
business  known  as  interna- 
tional finance.  The  first  Con- 
sortium— a  four-Power  group — 
came  into  being  in  much  the 
same  way  as  the  "  Big  Four  " 
of  more  recent  date.  They 
assumed  control  of  China's  bor- 
rowing. Then  Eussia  and  Japan 
came  knocking  for  admittance, 
and  four  became  six.  Then,  in 
due  course,  the  United  States 
stood  out,  and  six  became 


five  ;  and  now  Germany  has 
gone,  four  once  more.  Belgium 
and  Austria,  being  omitted, 
played  lone  hands.  If  the 
Empress  Dowager  ever  re- 
turned in  spirit  to  the  scene 
of  her  last  great  fight  with 
Christendom,  how  she  must 
have  laughed  to  watch  the 
struggle  between  the  clever 
bankers  and  the  Ministers 
of  the  Eepublic.  On  the 
face  of  things  the  battle  was 
scarcely  equal ;  for  arrayed 
against  the  Ministers  were  those 
champions  of  the  high  finance 
of  Christendom :  the  Hong- 
Kong  and  Shanghai  Bank,  the 
Banque  de  1'Indo-Chine,  the 
Deutsch-Asiatische  Bank,  the 
Eusso-Asiatic  Bank,  the  Yoko- 
hama Specie  Bank,  and  the 
American  firm,  Pierpont  Mor- 
gan &  Company ;  and  each 
champion  stood  for  a  group  of 
its  own  national  banks. 

But  with  the  best  intentions 
in  the  world  a  Consortium  had 
too  many  heads — and  as  many 
opinions  as  heads — to  be  any- 
thing but  cumbersome  in  its 
working.  Each  member  was 
in  two  parts,  the  Bank  and  its 
Government,  sometimes  inde- 
pendent, sometimes  labouring 
in  harmony  at  the  new  concept, 
"  Finance  and  State."  The 
Foreign  Minister  or  the  Bank 
Manager  was  the  "  Inexorable 
Jorkins"  as  occasion  demanded. 
Imagine  too  all  the  permuta- 
tions and  combinations  of  which 
such  a  heterogeneous  body  was 
capable — the  six  Ministers  col- 
lectively, the  six  Managers 
collectively,  the  independent 
groupings  of  Ministers,  of  Man- 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels. 


351 


agers,  and  of  Ministers  and 
Managers,  by  twos  and  threes. 
The  Chinese  mind  has  an  in- 
stinct for  the  weak  spots  in 
his  adversary's  armour,  and  is 
adept  at  planting  an  arrow  just 
there  ;  and  the  Consortium  was 
so  many-jointed,  so  loosely 
knit  together,  that  one  now 
and  again  got  home  as  a  matter 
of  course.  The  meetings  of 
the  Wise  Men  of  the  West 
were  endless ;  rumours  of 
wrangling  made  abundant  and 
amusing  gossip  in  the  Wagons 
Lits  when  the  well-known  finan- 
ciers walked  home  along  Lega- 
tion Street  at  the  time  of  the 
midday  refection,  discussing 
what  they  had  not  done  at  the 
morning  sitting.  Much  talk, 
of  course  ;  but  the  proceedings 
partook  too  much  of  the  nature 
of  a  hyperbola  and  its  asymp- 
totes :  day  by  day  they  got 
nearer  and  nearer  to  agree- 
ment, but  never  reached  it. 
"  Yesterday  it  looked  as  if  the 
last  difficulty  had  been  over- 
come, and  all  was  ready  for 
signing :  now  to-day  they've 
sprung  another  on  us  ;  and, 
strange  is  it  not !  our  German 
colleague  seems  to  think  there 
is  something  in  it  !  " 

Towards  midnight  there  had 
been  a  distant  rumbling  in  the 
street,  growing  louder  and 
louder,  as  of  Jehu  furiously 
driving  some  ancient  vehicle: 
then  it  stopped  suddenly.  And 
in  the  smaller  hours  the  light 
sleeper  in  the  Wagons  Lits  was 
wakened  by  that  clattering 
again — fortissimo,  then  dimin- 
uendo, but  always  prestissimo, 
till  it  passed  out  of  hearing: 


' '  Chinamen,  been  playing  poker, 
I  suppose.  I  thought  their 
carriages  weren't  allowed  in 
the  Quarter.  ...  Oh!  .  .  .  I 
wonder !  .  .  .  perhaps  they've 
been  hobnobbing  with  one  of 
the  bankers !  .  .  .  Then  they 
won't  sign  to-morrow  after 
all !  " 

Seriously,  it  is  very  difficult 
for  a  lender  to  keep  up  the 
pretence  of  inexorableness  when 
he  knows  that  the  proposition 
he  is  considering  is  a  good  thing, 
and  the  borrower  knows  that 
he  knows  it.  That  was  the 
leit  motif  of  the  Consortium  de- 
bates. The  Chinaman's  trump 
card  was  the  admitted  fact 
that  the  resources  of  China 
are  unexhaustible ;  only,  in 
commercial  parlance,  they  want 
developing. 

But  we  are  more  concerned 
with  that  other  world  of  Peking, 
which  is  not  the  Legation  world, 
whose  siSge  is  the  Wagons  Lits 
Hotel.  There  also  you  could 
see  the  spirit  of  civilising  in- 
fluence at  its  work.  Little 
groups  of  men  getting  them- 
selves away  in  corners,  out  of 
hearing  of  one  another — con- 
ferring benefits  on  China  is  as 
thorny  a  business  as  weeding 
a  bed  of  roses, — for  there  is 
much  listening  and  much 
whispering :  the  one  the 
corollary  of  the  other.  Hence 
the  furtive  glance  over  the 
shoulder  whenever  two  or 
three  were  gotten  together, 
which  came  to  be  recognised 
as  the  sign  of  the  Wagons 
Lits,  the  mark  of  the  beast 
on  business. 

There  was  the  greater  busi- 


352 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


ness  and  the  lesser  business. 
The  greater  business  related 
to  loans,  of  surprising  amounts, 
to  be  advanced  on  surprising 
terms  ;  for  in  fulfilling  the  task 
of  unifying  itself  China  needed 
money,  and  the  sieve,  or  the 
bottomless  pail,  were  poor  sim- 
iles for  her  infinite  capacity 
of  borrowing.  But  great  was 
the  multitude  of  the  lenders, 
and  infinite  their  capacity 
for  lending.  Groups  and  in- 
dividuals from  all  parts  of  the 
world  were  ready  to  strike  the 
rock  from  which  a  pactolian 
stream  would  gush  forth  to  fill 
the  empty  coffers — on  terms. 
And  sometimes  the  Consortium 
had  to  pull  itself  together  and 
show  its  claws  to  repel  trespass 
on  its  preserve. 

Then  there  were  projectors 
and  constructors  of  railways 
without  end — Sun  Yat  Sen's 
magnet,  a  great  network  of 
lines  linking  up  every  part  of 
China  with  every  other,  had 
drawn  promoters  innumerable 
to  Peking — and  schemers  ready 
to  work  mines,  oil-fields,  forests, 
all  the  manifold  forms  of  wealth 
with  which  nature  has  dowered 
China,  which  unfortunately  are 
not  currency,  but  need  so  much 
for  their  exploiting.  Generic- 
ally,  the  Concession  Hunters. 
In  the  manner  of  their  stalking 
they  were  amusing  to  watch. 
After  breakfast,  the  atoms  of 
the  little  groups,  not  yet  co- 
agulated, would  loaf  around, 
idly  smoking,  apparently  bored 
with  existence,  and  wondering 
how  to  get  through  the  morning. 
Then  one  would  move  towards 
the  door,  with  a  great  uncon- 


cern, to  "  see  what  the  weather 
looks  like"  —  and  suddenly 
disappear.  The  same  idea 
would  at  once  strike  all  of  the 
others,  and  they  too  vanished 
— reflex  action,  just  as  one 
man's  yawn  sets  others  yawn- 
ing. The  hall  was  empty  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the 
ricksha  men  racing  to  their 
accustomed  destinations.  The 
hunt  was  up.  Towards  lunch- 
time,  one  by  one,  they  would 
come  dribbling  back  :  the  hall 
as  suddenly  filled  again.  Then 
one,  over  his  cocktail,  would 
say,  "Well  .  .  .  !  ";  and  an- 
other would  shrug  his  shoulders, 
or  perhaps  answer,  "  Nothing 
doing " ;  or  another,  more 
candid  than  his  fellows, 
"  And  never  will  be  to  my 
thinking." 

Those  in  the  lesser  lines  of 
business  had  occasional  streaks 
of  luck,  and  took  a  cheerier  view 
of  life  and  its  potentialities 
in  the  way  of  orders.  I  see 
still  in  my  mind's  eye  the 
Lady  of  the  Hunt — gay,  spark- 
ling, fashionably  dressed;  amus- 
ing too,  with  subtle  little  Ameri- 
canisms which  told  us  whence 
she  came.  Everybody  talked 
to  her ;  some,  the  selected, 
dined  vicissim  ;  and  always  over 
the  coffee  and  cigarette  was 
much  laughing  talk,  the  full- 
gestured  talk  peculiar  to  those 
who  have  seen  many  lands  : 
evidently  a  great  traveller — 
in  type-writers,  as  she  told  you 
quite  frankly  in  the  morning, 
when  it  came  to  your  turn  to 
be  canvassed.  And  the  sum- 
total  of  orders  booked — the 
story,  as  she  told  it,  ran 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels. 


353 


from  chatterer  to  chatterer — 
amounted  to  many  thousands  ! 
Quite  a  chapter  in  the  ro- 
mance of  commerce  ! 

Among  the  denizens  of  the 
Wagons  Lits  a  few  were  bona- 
fide  travellers.  Peking  is  not 
exactly  a  Sabbath-day's  jour- 
ney from  anywhere,  though  you 
may  get  to  Shanghai,  the  near- 
est large  European  community, 
by  rail  in  thirty-six  hours. 
To  reach  Hong-Kong,  that  little 
bit  of  China  "  in  the  temporary 
occupation  of  the  British,"  you 
must  go  on  by  steamer  for 
three  days  and  a  night  more. 
From  Europe  you  must  add 
to  the  usual  period  of  getting 
from  one  European  capital  to 
another,  that  terrible  stretch 
of  weariness  known  as  the 
Siberian  Eailway.  So,  though 
the  Grand  Tour  of  to-day  ex- 
tends to  Peking,  it  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  understand  why  it 
should  be  looked  upon  as  the 
central  point,  whether  your 
ultimate  purpose  be  to  go  east 
or  west.  The  feeling  comes  to 
the  traveller  which  must  have 
inspired  those  who  chose  the 
site  for  the  Temple  of  Heaven  : 
it  is  the  centre  of  the  world, 
from  which  all  paths,  by  land 
or  water,  radiate  to  the  utter- 
most parts  of  the  earth.  It 
is  journey's  end ;  a  week  to 
rest  before  you  start  fresh 
journeys  ;  such  a  nice,  clean, 
spacious,  well-run  hotel  invites 
you  to  outspan,  refit.  The 
call  of  the  West  grows  faint  as 
a  voice  in  dreamland.  The 
spirit  of  the  East  is  already 
enveloping  you.  Inspan  again 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXI. 


quickly ;  pack  up  and  take 
the  night  train  if  you  would 
escape  and  retain  free  will- 
power— else  you  are  lost ;  the 
week  will  stretch  to  two,  the 
two  to  a  month,  the  month 
to  three :  you  will  no  longer 
roam.  With  the  first  ricksha 
ride  in  that  dirty,  dusty,  gar- 
bage-ridden, stench-pervaded, 
wonderful  city,  through  streets 
full  of  the  accumulated  filth 
of  ages,  the  spell  will  have 
begun  its  work.  Above  all, 
if  you  would  steel  your  soul 
against  that  creeping  paralysis 
of  the  will,  turn  your  back  to 
the  wall.  Facilis  ascensus  muri. 
There  are  easy  gradients  every 
half-mile,  enticing  you  upwards. 
From  earliest  youth  the  fas- 
cination of  the  top  of  any  wall 
was  irresistible  ;  but  from  the 
top  of  this  wall  of  Peking,  to 
which  for  sheer  height  and 
breadth  and  resulting  mass  the 
Great  Wall  of  China  is  a  pigmy, 
lies  spread  before  you  a  whole 
world  of  mystery.  Eealise, 
then,  the  risk  you  run  before 
you  set  foot  on  the  gentle 
incline.  You  will  come  down 
not  quite  the  same  man  as 
you  went  up.  There  will  have 
been  added  to  your  wisdom 
something  of  the  wonder-teach- 
ing of  the  East,  which  will  play 
havoc  with  your  Western  no- 
tions. 

It  matters  little  whether  it 
is  winter,  and  you  mark  the 
track  of  dust-storms,  or  see 
the  hideous  wilderness  of  the 
squalid  city  snowed  under ; 
or  spring,  when  the  dull  brown 
is  picked  out  with  innumerable 
lines  of  young  green,  and  the 

N 


354 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


roar  of  the  city's  life  grows 
more  intense  ;  or  summer,  when 
the  leaf  is  full  upon  the  trees, 
and  the  city  has  almost  dis- 
appeared under  its  mantle  of 
dark  foliage  ;  or  autumn,  when 
the  falling  leaf  warns  you  that 
another  year  is  passing  into 
the  eternity  of  the  ages — the 
East  has  claimed  another 
victim. 

What  are  the  strands  which 
go  to  the  weaving  of  the  spell  ? 
What  makes  it  so  potent,  and 
the  victim  so  unresisting  t  For 
long  I  have  searched  in  vain, 
finding  everywhere  Paradox  a 
giant  in  the  path  of  under- 
standing. Assuredly  neither 
beauty  nor  grace  of  form,  as 
recognised  in  the  West,  is  one 
of  them  ;  for  the  great  gates 
and  guard-houses  upon  the 
wall  are  in  themselves  mon- 
strous, ungraceful  in  concep- 
tion, monotonous  in  detail. 
The  wooden  carvings  of  their 
ornament  have  been  worn  away 
by  winds  and  rains,  and  the 
Chinaman  never  thinks  of  re- 
pairing or  rebuilding.  The 
colour  is  perished  ;  at  its  best, 
when  fresh,  it  could  only  have 
been  garish  ;  and  the  painted 
muzzles  of  imaginary  guns  are 
merely  ridiculous,  or  indicate 
scant  intelligence  in  the  native 
mind.  And  yet  these  fantastic 
edifices  hold  you  as  part  of 
some  greatly-conceived  whole 
which  your  mind  for  long  fails 
to  grasp.  The  yellow  -  tiled 
roofs  of  the  Imperial  City 
within  the  Tatar  walls  catch 
the  eye  as  the  sunlight  strikes 
them  ;  but  the  City  itself  has 
no  germ  of  beauty  in  its  struc- 


ture. You  see  only  a  series 
of  ungainly  quadrangles  en- 
closed by  unlovely  walls.  And 
yet  it  is  not  the  glistening  tiles 
that  rivet  your  attention,  but 
some  inherent  characteristic  of 
vast  walled  Peking,  at  present 
not  understood.  You  seek  a 
new  scale  of  values  by  which 
to  appreciate  the  meaning  of 
"  grandeur,"  for  it  is  the  gran- 
deur of  conception  of  the  Tatar 
City,  the  magic  sense  of  its 
proportion,  which  holds  you 
enthralled;  such  as — 

Immensity  of  labour  :  in  the 
mere  mass  of  the  wall,  which 
translated  into  prosaic  figures 
—that  it  is  50  feet  high,  60 
feet  broad  at  the  base,  and 
the  terreplein  40  feet — conveys 
little  meaning ; 

Immensity  of  distance : 
starting  from  Chien-men,  the 
great  southern  entrance,  the 
eye  travels  east  and  west  two 
measured  miles  each  way  ;  then 
at  the  angles  turning  north 
four  miles  on  each  side,  and 
far  away  another  four  miles 
of  wall  completing  the  vast 
rectangle,  with  Hata-men  and 
the  other  gates  pinnacles  for 
milestones  ; 

Immensity  of  the  city's  past, 
"  standing  upon  the  debris  of 
centuries  of  buildings,"  which 
the  wall,  though  it  reaches  no 
farther  back  than  Kublai  Khan, 
embodies  ;  the  sign  visual  the 
great  Observatory  on  the  east- 
ern side,  with  its  celestial  and 
terrestrial  armillary  spheres,  its 
quadrants  and  its  sextants, 
standing  large  against  the  sky  ; 
and  lastly — 

Immensity  of  the  future  :   as 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels. 


355 


it  was,  so  it  is,  and  so  it  will 
remain,  permanent  in  a  world 
of  change ;  in  a  word,  the 
embodiment  of  China. 

At  this  point  my  cogitations 
are  violently  (in  stage  lan- 
guage) "  blacked  out,"  and  I 
see  the  wall  under  very  modern 
conditions.  The  full  moon  of 
an  autumn  night ;  the  cosmo- 
politans of  the  Wagons  Lits 
have  betaken  themselves  to 
its  summit  to  listen  to  Sir 
Eobert  Bredon's  band ;  the 
conductor,  a  German  who  has 
spent  his  life  training  the  East 
to  play  and  appreciate  the 
music  of  the  West.  No  one 
knows  so  well  as  he  what 
melodies  go  best  with  moon- 
shine. 

It  is  time  to  get  back  to  the 
hotel  and  watch  the  concession- 
hunters  and  the  curio-hunters 
at  play.  Their  tiresome  avoca- 
tions are  laid  aside  at  dinner, 
their  rivalries  so  far  forgotten 
that  they  will  sit  together  and 
confide  the  story  of  the  day's 
adventures  :  how  one  made 
progress,  had  advanced  a  room 
forward  in  the  scale  of  ante- 
chambering,  and  another  had 
gone  a  step  backwards,  even 
his  accustomed  room — "  wait- 
ing-room "  in  the  true  sense  of 
the  word — barred  by  an  open 
but  unlined  palm.  And  one 
tells  how,  in  the  secret  auction 
mart  to  which  all  fine  porce- 
lain coming  to  Peking  for  sale 
goes,  and  to  which  no  European 
may  find  admittance  save  by 
proxy  of  a  Chinaman,  his  own 
particular  buyer  had  played 


the  rogue,  and  let  a  fine  bit  of 
famille  rose  slip  through  his 
hands ;  to  which  the  other 
replies,  "  Well,  old  chap,  I 
don't  mind  telling  you,  my 
man  bought  that,  but  your 
man  got  the  lieu  poudre*  vase 
which  I'd  got  my  eye  on  for 
a  client  in  Paris. "  Philosophers 
all,  who  have  learned  their 
lesson  in  the  Eastern  way. 

After  dinner  you  wander 
round  the  arcade  of  stalls  in 
the  hotel  vestibule,  buying  nick- 
nacks  old  and  new — a  chain 
of  amber  beads  that  you  know 
your  niece  will  love,  some 
pendant  of  carved  purple  ame- 
thyst, a  bit  of  jade,  attractive 
to  your  unaccustomed  eye,  but 
of  no  great  value  ;  or  lazily, 
over  coffee  and  cigars,  you  let 
the  merchant  open  his  bundles, 
spreading  before  you  fascinated 
his  silks  and  brocades  and 
embroideries.  Your  letter-of- 
credit  will  be  heavily  drawn 
on  to-morrow.  Then  a  famous 
conjurer  holds  you,  in  spite  of 
your  senses'  protest,  enthralled 
by  the  skill  with  which  he 
produces  many  things  out  of 
an  empty  bag,  in  defiance  of 
the  tag  "  ex  nihilo  .  .  .  ",  you 
know  the  rest ;  and  even  as 
you  look,  "  before  your  very 
eyes,"  as  the  saying  is,  returns 
it  whence  it  came.  Quite 
symbolical  of  the  business  of 
concession-hunting  that  feat  of 
producing  something  out  of 
nothing,  only  the  hunters  lack 
the  lightness  of  hand,  the  swift- 
ness of  the  pass,  of  this  master 
of  Uger-de-main. 

On  Saturday  evenings  the 
word  goes  round,  "  Let  us 


356 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


dance."  Tables  in  the  dining- 
room  are  pushed  to  one  side. 
In  thrall  to  Strauss  the  week 
and  its  worries  and  futilities 
are  all  forgot ;  and  if,  now  and 
again,  some  youth,  newly  ar- 
rived, would  show  us  the  steps 
and  the  trots  they  are  dancing 
in  the  West,  we  will  have  none 
of  them.  The  lilt  of  "  Tau- 
send  und  eine  Nacht,"  and 
"  Wein,  Weib  und  Gesang  "  still 
holds  captive  our  willing  feet. 

From  gay  to  graver  matters  ; 
from  the  past  with  its  Consor- 
tiums to  the  present  with  its 
post-war  problems,  of  which 
the  Chinese  has  a  special  im- 
portance. 

The  relations  of  China  with 
Europe,  forced  upon  her  in  the 
early  days  of  intercourse,  have 
given  place  to  a  newer  inti- 
macy, which  suggests  some 
interesting  reflections  on  a  curi- 
ously occult  subject,  the  morals 
of  nations.  Morality  of  con- 
duct between  individuals  has 
a  fairly  well-recognised  mean- 
ing. For  my  purpose  it  is  not 
necessary  to  be  too  meta- 
physical or  exhaustive.  This 
point  at  least  will  be  conceded 
— that  professions  of  goodwill 
should  not  cover  an  ultimate 
benefit  to  the  professor.  Single- 
ness of  purpose — the  purpose 
professed — is  of  its  essence. 
There  is  no  reason  why  so 
elementary  a  principle  should 
not  govern  the  conduct  of  in- 
dividuals in  the  mass,  when 
they  are  acting  by  their  accre- 
dited agent,  a  representative 
government.  The  sous-entendu 
of  our  protested  desire  to 


see  a  "  United  China  "  was, 
however,  well  understood :  a 
disunited  China  meant,  and 
still  means,  disturbances  pre- 
judicial to  our  commercial  in- 
terests. It  is  unnecessary  to 
labour  the  point.  The  tender 
solicitude  for  China,  about 
which  there  was  so  much  talk 
at  the  time  of  the  Consortiums, 
resolved  itself  into  a  question 
of  profitable  investment.  The 
financial  magnates  of  Legation 
Street  were  convinced  that, 
although  the  Customs  revenues 
were  fully  mortgaged,  under 
proper  control  and  manage- 
ment the  Salt  Gabelle  was  a 
good  security  for  further  loan- 
ing. And  frankly,  both  head 
and  body  of  the  groups  being 
joint-stock  companies,  the  re- 
generation of  China  in  itself 
was  not  a  thing  in  which  the 
shareholders'  money  could  legi- 
timately have  been  invested. 
It  served,  however,  as  a  sound 
reason  for  Government  super- 
vision of  the  investments. 

But  these  later  years  have 
raised  another  question :  Is 
there  such  a  thing  as  national 
gratitude  ? 

One  would  have  imagined 
that  the  war  had  so  shaken 
up  the  husks  of  our  professions 
of  goodwill  towards  China  that 
the  kernel,  if  there  were  a 
kernel,  would  at  last  have 
dropped  out  of  them.  In  truth 
there  was  one,  but  it  was  such 
a  little  shrivelled  bit  of  a  thing 
as  hardly  to  deserve  the  name. 
Think  for  a  moment.  China 
did  what  she  could  for  Christen- 
dom. She  might  well,  declar- 
ing neutrality,  have  stood  aloof, 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels. 


357 


with  a  scornful,  "  See  how  these 
Christians  hate  one  another  !  " 
It  needed  some  courage  even 
to  break  off  diplomatic  rela- 
tions with  our  enemy,  for 
Germany  had  a  grip  on  her : 
threatened  revenge  for  the  loss 
of  Tsingtau,  still  controlled 
many  railways,  owned  large 
commercial  undertakings,  was 
still  a  member  of  the  Consor- 
tium, still  creditor  for  her  share 
of  the  Boxer  Indemnity. 
Neither  the  better  nor  the 
wiser  part  for  China  was  clearly 
indicated  ;  discretion  was  sadly 
at  fault.  Yet  she  decided  to 
cast  in  her  lot  with  the  Allies, 
and  her  participation  in  the 
war  took  the  form  of  many 
Labour  battalions  of  the  useful 
and  friendly  "  Chink." 

And,  the  war  being  over,  she 
sat  at  the  Peace  Conference  ; 
but  she  came  out  of  it  with  a 
grievance,  and  refused  to  sign 
the  Treaty  of  Versailles.  I 
am  not  going  to  touch  that 
thorny  subject,  Shantung  ;  but 
one  question  may  be  discussed 
with  an  equal  pen  to  which  the 
protocols  of  the  Conference 
contain  little  reference. 

The  Boxer  Eising  happened 
twenty  years  ago — very  ancient 
history  now,  but  to  be  recalled 
in  a  few  lines. 

Suddenly,  the  last  thing  men 
thought  possible  occurred.  The 
Legations  at  Peking  were  at- 
tacked by  bands  of  armed 
fanatics,  so  suddenly  that  tra- 
velling guests  were  compelled  to 
stay  on  in  the  compound,  and 
the  British  Minister's  children, 
fifteen  miles  away  in  the  hills, 


had  scarcely  time  to  be  brought 
home.  The  attack  developed 
into  a  regular  siege ;  during 
July  1900,  the  rumour,  hap- 
pily false,  spread  through  Eng- 
land that  the  Legations  had 
fallen.  It  was  a  crime  against 
the  world,  and  retribution  fol- 
lowed quickly.  The  Chinese 
Government  was  held  respon- 
sible. In  spite  of  her  gifts  of 
vegetables  and  fruit  to  the 
garrison,  the  Empress  Dowager 
was  known  to  have  taken  a 
secret  hand  in  it.  An  indemnity 
was  imposed  for  damages  suf- 
fered and  to  cover  the  costs  of 
the  Allied  Belief  Expedition. 
It  amounted  to  £67,500,000, 
of  which  19 1  millions  went  to 
Eussia,  13|  to  Germany,  10| 
to  France,  7^  to  England,  5| 
to  Japan,  4f  to  the  United 
States,  4  to  Italy,  1|  to  Bel- 
gium, half  a  million  to  Austria, 
and  £200,000  to  Holland  and 
Spain.  The  amount,  charged 
against  the  Customs  and  Salt 
revenues,  and  carrying  4  per 
cent  interest,  was  to  be  repaid 
by  thirty-nine  annual  instal- 
ments of  approximately  3  mil- 
lions. After  twenty  years  there 
remain  due  for  principal  and 
interest  some  63  millions  ster- 
ling. The  burden  weighs  heavi- 
ly on  the  finances  of  the  Eepub- 
lic,  and  lies  at  the  root  of  their 
disorder. 

Fourteen  years  passed,  and 
once  again  the  last  thing  that 
men  in  the  street  thought  pos- 
sible occurred.  Belgium  was 
overrun  and  France  attacked 
by  the  invading  armies  of  Ger- 
many, so  suddenly  that  travel- 
lers staying  in  Berlin  hotels, 


358 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


and  invalids  at  German  spas, 
had  no  time  to  get  home,  but 
suffered  internment.  The  at- 
tack developed  into  a  war  of 
such  magnitude  that  few  frag- 
ments of  the  globe  were  un- 
affected by  it.  Once  again  a 
crime  was  committed  against 
the  world,  and  retribution  fol- 
lowed defeat.  The  Kaiser's 
Government  was  held  respon- 
sible ;  he  himself  had  taken 
an  open  part ;  an  indemnity 
was  imposed,  commensurate, 
so  far  as  the  human  mind 
could  measure,  with  the  dam- 
ages suffered,  subject  to  the 
capacity  of  Germany  to  pay. 

In  the  actual  hurt  done  to 
the  world  these  two  acts  were 
not  comparable ;  in  criminal 
intent  they  were  identical.  But 
there  was  this  curious  coin- 
cidence :  the  criminal  of  1914 
had  sat  in  judgment  on  the 
criminal  of  1900.  The  monarch 
who  had  lit  the  flames  was  not 
an  old  woman  besotted  with 
her  power,  but  had  posed  as 
the  leader  of  the  Hosts  of 
Christendom  against  the  Peril 
of  the  Far  East,  had  ordered 
a  marble  arch  to  be  set  up  in 
Peking  as  sign  of  penitence  for 
the  murder  of  his  Minister. 

Here  then  was  a  new  problem 
in  international  morality.  But 
one  thing  at  least  was  clear : 
this  Christian  criminal  must 
forfeit  all  claim  to  that  old 
indemnity  imposed  on  China. 
And  the  Allies  have  this  to 
their  credit  that,  satisfying  the 
demand  of  international  justice, 
they  decreed  in  Article  439  of 
the  Treaty  of  Peace  that  Ger- 
many should  not  put  forward, 


directly  or  indirectly,  against 
any  signatory  Power  (including 
those  which,  without  having 
declared  war,  had  broken  off 
diplomatic  negotiations  with 
Germany)  "  any  pecuniary 
claim  based  on  events  which 
occurred  at  any  time  before 
the  coming  into  force  "  of  the 
Treaty ;  such  claims  are  to 
be  thenceforward  completely 
barred  and  extinguished.  This 
included  the  Boxer  Indemnity. 
A  similar  provision  was  made 
in  Article  397  of  the  Austrian 
Peace  Treaty.  China,  on  ac- 
count of  her  grievance,  did  not 
sign,  and  therefore  could  not 
claim  the  benefit  of  the  pro- 
vision ;  but  the  remission  of 
their  shares  of  the  indemnity 
has  been  included  in  her  sepa- 
rate peace  agreements  with 
both  the  Central  Powers. 

So  far  so  good.  But  to  this 
turn  of  the  wheel  of  justice 
China  would  have  been  entitled 
had  she  stood  aloof  from  the 
war,  and  the  consideration  to 
which  she  is  entitled  for  service 
rendered  is,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
far  from  exhausted.  As  a 
belligerent  in  the  field,  her  half - 
trained  army  and  her  little 
fleet  were  negligible.  But  the 
needs  of  the  Allies  went  be- 
yond fighting  men  and  ships. 
Urgent  calls  for  labour,  though 
the  uttermost  confines  of  their 
empires  were  ransacked — even 
the  far-away  Falkland  Islands 
furnished  their  squad — could 
not  be  satisfied.  The  great 
reservoir  of  labourers  was 
China ;  and,  oblivion's  con- 
venient sponge  being  passed 
over  the  fatuous  talk  about 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels, 


359 


Chinese  labour  in  the  Trans- 
vaal, they  called  on  China  for 
help.  The  call  was  answered, 
the  help  freely  given.  Not  in 
the  firing  line,  but  in  the  area 
between  the  firing  line  and  the 
coast,  China  did  large  service, 
relieving  our  own  fighting  men 
from  the  digging  of  trenches 
and  the  hundred  forms  of  the 
spade-work  of  war.  This  was 
her  contribution  to  the  ulti- 
mate victory  ;  and  I  ask  : 
Has  she  not  yet  worked  out 
her  salvation  and  redeemed 
her  great  offence  ? 

Apart  from  the  valuable  con- 
sideration which  she  has  given 
for  remission,  there  are  certain 
points  which  tell  in  her  favour. 
The  Eepublic  is  bearing  the 
punishment  for  a  crime  com- 
mitted during  the  Empire,  for 
which  it  was  in  no  way  respon- 
sible ;  the  people  of  China  are 
paying  the  penalty  for  what 
was  done  by  a  horde  of  fanatics 
in  which  they,  poor  hard-driven 
souls,  in  no  wise  participated  ; 
the  burden  is  so  heavy  that  it 
is  of  itself  an  impediment  to 
the  financial  regeneration  of 
the  country  which  we  profess 
so  much  to  desire ;  the  re- 
mission of  it  before  the  war 
would  have  so  strengthened 
the  hands  of  Yuan  Shi  K'ai 
that,  instead  of  resorting  to 
desperate  expedients  for  raising 
money,  he  would  have  been 
able  to  put  his  financial  house 
in  order,  and  we  should  have 
earned  the  gratitude  of  the 
people,  as  the  United  States 
earned  it  by  her  partial  re- 
mission in  1908.  But  the  first 
act  of  the  Eepublic  was  to 


shoulder  the  burden  of  Imperial 
debt,  and  there  is  no  room  for 
sentiment  in  the  financial  re- 
lations between  nations ;  the 
Treasuries  of  Europe  demand 
payment  of  their  bonds.  To 
those  who  have  heads  but  no 
hearts,  it  is  a  "  mere  question 
of  account." 

Nevertheless  these  questions 
must  be  asked.  Is  evil  never 
to  be  blotted  out  by  good ! 
Are  good  works  never  to  atone 
for  bad  ?  Is  gratitude  never 
to  take  the  place  of  anger  ? 
The  answer  to  them  is  appa- 
rently in  the  affirmative,  for 
the  Allies  have  done  some- 
thing :  they  postponed  the 
payment  of  the  indemnity  for 
five  years.  Frankly,  it  is  but 
a  small  mercy,  for  this  tiny 
fraction  of  the  heavy  debt  was 
not  even  remitted ;  and  for 
another  twenty  years  the  bur- 
den must  be  borne.  The  shak- 
ing of  the  husks  has  produced 
the  very  smallest  kernel.  The 
chance  of  giving  rest  to  China 
from  her  financial  troubles  has 
been  ignored.  Is  this  as  it 
should  have  been  ?  The  answers 
to  some  questions  leap  to  the 
eyes  of  the  understanding.  Of 
such  surely  this  is  one. 

It  was  inevitable,  in  those 
pre-war  days,  that  the  sur- 
charged atmosphere  of  Lega- 
tion Quarter  should  compel  one 
to  muse  on  the  problem  of 
Chinese  finance,  to  wonder 
whether  some  statesman  would 
ever  arise,  in  West  or  East, 
who  would  understand  the  Chi- 
nese Question.  And  musing 
thus  one  afternoon,  there  was 


360 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


borne  on  the  sultry  air  the 
sound  of  bugles  and  the  tramp 
of  arme'd  men,  as  the  Legation 
Guards  came  marching  down 
the  street.  Here  was  another 
witness  to  "  Old  Buddha's  " 
folly.  The  sacred  privilege  of 
Legations  had  been  infringed 
by  force  of  arms  ;  the  penalty 
was  obvious  —  the  sovereign 
right  of  bearing  arms  must  be 
curtailed,  and  the  theoretical 
exterritoriality  of  the  Legations 
made  a  reality  and  guarded  by 
force.  The  Empress  Dowager 
protested  her  innocence  of  all 
complicity  in  the  rising ;  she 
had  been  powerless  to  subdue 
the  fanatics  who  called  them- 
selves Boxers.  So  be  it ;  but 
what  had  happened  once  might 
happen  twice ;  the  Legations 
therefore  stood  in  need  of  pro- 
tection, and  troops  must  be 
sent  to  protect  them.  The 
Peace  Protocol  of  1901  allowed 
certain  posts  upon  the  railways 
to  be  guarded  in  similar  fashion, 
but  the  need  not  being  felt, 
those  guards  were  withdrawn, 
till  the  Eevolution  of  1911 
compelled  them  to  be  restored. 
In  June  1913  there  were  ap- 
proximately 9500  foreign  troops 
in  China,  of  which  2000  were 
in  Peking  and  6000  quartered 
in  Tientsin.  Thus  was  the 
country  occupied  by  foreign 
Powers  ;  the  sternest  retribu- 
bution  for  national  misdeeds, 
the  greatest  indignity  a  nation 
can  suffer,  was  inflicted.  And 
on  this  sunny  afternoon  the 
meaning  of  it  was  made 
manifest.  To  welcome  some 
General  on  a  tour  of  inspection, 
or  salute  some  Commanding 


Officer  going  home,  there  had 
been  a  full-dress  parade  of  the 
Guards,  among  which  there 
were  detachments  of  famous 
regiments  of  all  the  nations, 
for  an  esprit  de  patrie  still  per- 
vaded that  vestige  of  the  Ex- 
peditionary Force. 

Bonny  Scots,  with  the  swing 
of  the  kilt  we  know  so  well ; 
United  States  Marines  in  their 
tight  blue  trouserings  and  smart 
short  tunics  ;  Eussians,  Japan- 
ese, Italians,  each  expressing 
in  characteristic  fashion  the 
bearing  of  a  dominant  Power ; 
Germans  and  Austrians,  not 
too  well  set  up,  but  displaying 
an  uncouth  arrogance  which 
at  that  tune  expressed  the 
spirit  of  the  Fatherland  ;  and 
then,  with  bugles  blowing  their 
quick-step,  the  French  Infan- 
terie  de  la  Marine.  They 
marched  with  e'lan,  like  men 
inspired  by  some  high  destiny  ; 
the  slouching  poilu,  as  we  knew 
him  on  sentry-go,  transformed  ; 
the  whole  detachment  swinging 
as  one  body  rhythmically  to  the 
bugles.  Was  Dixmude  already 
calling  to  them  ?  Within  two 
years  the  defence  of  the  Bel- 
gian town  would  add  immortal 
renown  to  the  regiment's  laurels. 
Is  it  fantastic  to  imagine  that 
the  men  were  moved  by  the 
spirit  of  things  to  come  ?  or 
was  the  grande  parade  only  an 
occasion,  not  to  be  missed,  for 
the  glorification  of  France  ? 
Not  altogether  fantasy  ;  for  I 
had  learned,  in  the  intimacy 
of  evening  talk  under  the  trees 
in  a  French  garden,  that  some- 
thing which  had  clean  passed 
out  of  my  mind — revanche — 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels. 


361 


was  as  potent  as  ever ;  and 
some  of  the  younger  men, 
wearing  uniform  for  the  first 
time,  believed  that  it  was  near 
at  hand. 

Our  American  friends  had 
improvised  a  new  and  most 
gracious  form  of  hospitality,  a 
pleasant  way  of  spending  the 
cooling  hours  of  a  hot  day — 
the  "K.  T.  Club."  Its  pre- 
mises the  umbrageous  lawns  of 
the  Legation  Gardens ;  the 
membership  unlimited  and  the 
entry  free  to  those  even  who 
were  only  sojourners  for  a  brief 


space  in  the  Quarter ;  the  re- 
freshment a  mild  and  often- 
renewed  cocktail — whence  the 
name.  A  new-comer,  I  had 
been  bidden  take  up  my  mem- 
bership. The  occasion  was 
propitious,  for  the  march  of 
the  Guards  would  make  plea- 
sant talking.  A  smart  sentry 
was  on  duty  at  the  gate,  and 
of  him  I  asked  guidance  to  the 
Secretaries'  compound.  Com- 
ing to  attention,  he  uttered 
these  singular  words — "  Sure, 
sorr,  I  don't  know  it,  for  I 
only  came  from  Doblin  last 
week." 


II.   THE  DOM  HOTEL,   COLOGNE. 


A  POST-WAR  IMPRESSION. 


William  Hohenzollern  in  his 
time  played  many  parts,  for 
few  of  which  he  was  fitted ; 
aped  many  men  who,  though 
they  failed,  were  great ;  and 
at  the  end  has  shown  himself 
only  a  pinchbeck  Lucifer  ;  "  Tie 
in  his  fall  preserved  his  pride, 
and  if  a  mortal  had  as  proudly 
died." 

Strange  that,  as  in  China, 
over  which  he  hectored,  a  hotel 
should  play  so  large  a  part  in 
the  fate  which  has  overtaken 
the  country  that  he  ruled. 
What  the  Wagons  Lits  in 
Peking  is  to  the  Legation 
Quarter,  the  Dom  Hotel  is  to 
the  Ehineland,  the  centre  of 
an  alien  activity.  The  identity 
of  the  German  offence  with  the 
Chinese,  violation  of  a  treaty 
under  arms,  has  brought  with 
it  an  identical  penalty :  dimi- 
nution of  sovereign  rights,  of 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXXI. 


which  the  Army  of  Occupation 
is  the  witness. 

I  doubt  whether  the  average 
Englishman  has  any  clear  ap- 
preciation of  the  meaning  of 
the  occupation.  He  takes  every- 
thing as  a  matter  of  course, 
even  his  share  in  the  punish- 
ment of  our  late  enemy.  He  is 
so  accustomed  to  our  dealings 
with  other  people's  territory, 
that  the  fact  that  Cologne,  in 
the  days  of  its  Archbishops  a 
free  Imperial  city,  has  become 
an  English  garrison  town,  hard- 
ly impresses  him.  Trips  should 
be  organised,  not  pleasure  trips 
to  "do  the  Bhine,"  but  educa- 
tional, like  the  children's  parties 
on  Saturday  afternoons  at  the 
British  Museum;  for  the  un- 
travelled  Englishman  is  a  very 
childlike  person,  with  much 
to  learn  about  his  country : 
and  much  to  unlearn — as,  the 

N2 


362 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


teaching  of  a  certain  divine, 
afflicted  with  what  were  called 
during  the  war  "  pacifist  ten- 
dencies," that  the  British  Em- 
pire has  been  built  up  on  wrong 
and  robbery,  and  is  something 
he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of. 

Being,  as  I  say,  familiar  with 
the  habit,  the  Englishman  has 
taken  our  occupation  of  Cologne 
as  something  in  the  ordinary 
course,  as  pretty  Fanny's  way, 
and  he  dismisses  it  with  "  Serves 
them  jolly  well  right."  It  has 
not  occurred  to  him  that,  as  in 
the  case  of  China,  so  in  the  case 
of  Germany,  it  is  "  the  stern- 
est retribution  that  can  be  de- 
vised for  national  misdeeds,  the 
greatest  indignity  a  nation  can 
suffer,"  that  it  cannot  fail  to 
leave  a  scar  on  the  national 
memory.  But,  just  as  the  most 
casual  of  tourists  to  the  de- 
vastated area  of  France  realises 
at  last  the  meaning  of  war,  so 
even  the  most  insular  of  my 
trippers  would  come  to  under- 
stand the  nature  of  Germany's 
punishment:  and,  as  I  hope, 
something  else  —  the  large- 
mindedness  which  is  guiding 
England  in  inflicting  it :  the 
Pax  Britannica  working,  after 
its  manner,  for  the  betterment 
of  those  who  come  within  its 
influence — which  is  the  burthen 
of  much  that  I  have  to  say. 

But  here  one  word  of  paren- 
thesis. Comparisons  in  such 
a  matter  would  be  unseemly. 
If  I  insist  on  the  necessity  of 
appreciating  what  we  are  doing 
on  the  Ehine,  I  must  insist, 
too,  how  essential  it  is  to  under- 
stand the  deeper  meaning  of 
the  French  occupation.  The 


Frenchman  is  there  frankly  en 
vainqueur ;  there  is  always  in 
his  mind  a  vision  of  the  wasted 
districts  of  his  country,  in  his 
heart  an  ever-present  fear  that 
invasion  may  overwhelm  his 
children  as  it  so  nearly  over- 
whelmed him.  Therefore  let 
it  be  understood  that  if  I  dilate 
somewhat  on  England's  mis- 
sion, and  on  Tommy  her  mis- 
sionary, I  intend  no  word  of 
criticism  of  France. 

The  affinities  between  Ger- 
many and  China  do  not  cease 
with  the  offences  which  they 
committed,  but  may  be  traced 
in  the  idea  which  prompted 
them,  though  the  reasoning 
processes  were  different.  The 
ambition  of  the  Hohenzollern 
to  achieve  the  hegemony  of 
the  world,  the  zenith-point  of 
megalomania,  was  based  on  a 
belief  in  the  superiority  of  the 
German  race ;  the  rest  too 
were  God's  creatures,  but,  un- 
endowed with  Kultur,  were  an 
inferior  product  of  His  creation. 

Now  that,  from  all  time,  has 
been  the  Chinese  idea ;  the 
rest  of  the  world  were  "bar- 
barians." But  the  Chinese 
never  thought  of  achieving 
greatness  ;  they  were  born  the 
greatest.  The  "  Yellow  Peril  " 
was  a  fantasy  of  our  own  im- 
agining; nothing  more  remote 
from  Chinese  thought  than  ac- 
tive aggression ;  it  does  not 
fit  in  with  the  national  phil- 
osophy. The  Empress  Dow- 
ager played  her  part  in  the 
attack  on  the  Legations  be- 
cause the  Boxer  Bising  gave  her 
an  occasion  to  resist,  perhaps 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels; 


363 


to  stem,  the  rising  tide  from 
the  West.  She  was  defending 
the  Chinese  tradition  ;  William 
II.  was  struggling  to  create 
one  for  Germany.  The  mega- 
lomania of  a  ruler  reflects  the 
instincts  of  his  people ;  and 
here  too  there  is  a  kindred 
sentiment  between  German  and 
Chinese,  with  a  difference.  The 
German  loves  mere  bigness, 
prefers  to  have  bigger  things 
than  other  people,  not  caring 
much  about  their  fitness.  Cap- 
able of  great  conceptions,  he 
often  fails  in  execution.  To 
the  Chinaman  fitness  is  the 
chief  concern  ;  centuries  have 
made  it  a  tradition  and  an 
instinct.  If  it  is  fitting  that 
yamen,  temple,  city,  or  city 
wall  should  be  big,  he  makes 
it  so,  achieving  grandeur  with- 
out visible  effort ;  but  the 
German,  for  all  his  striving, 
falls  short  at  the  grandiose. 
And  the  end  of  "  Deutschland 
uber  Alles  "  is  that  the  Ehine- 
land  was  occupied  by  the 
enemy,  and  the  proud  city  of 
Cologne  has  become  an  English 
garrison  town,  in  which  prac- 
tically every  good-sized  private 
house,  and  many  of  the  prin- 
cipal buildings,  have  been  re- 
quisitioned. 
I  am  not  sure  that  this  con- 


veys any  definite  meaning,  for 
the  term  is  not  one  with  which 
we  are  very  familiar.  I  shall 
therefore  attempt  an  encyclo- 
paedic definition  of  it,  thus  : — 

"  To  REQUISITION  :  to  require  to 
give  up  possession  of  property  for 
the  service  of  an  occupying  army ; 
.4s  of  public  buildings  and  places  : 
ex  gr.,  barracks,  for  the  troops ; 
hotels,  for  Headquarters ;  large  and 
commodious  buildings,  for  the  in- 
numerable offices  essential  to  the 
effective  maintenance  of  the  army ; 
clubs,  for  officers,  N.C.O.'s,  and 
men;  theatres,  for  their  recreation 
(see  O.i/C.  Amusements) ;  churches, 
for  their  devotions  (see  Principal 
Chaplain,  also  Padre) ;  tennis-courts, 
parks  for  cricket,  polo,  football, 
hockey,  &c.  (see  O.i/C.  Sports); 
compartments  in  trains,  for  their 
journeys  (see  E.T.O.);  Courts  of 
Justice,  for  the  trial  of  offences  by 
the  civil  population  (see  O.i/C.  Pro- 
secutions) : 1 

"  As  of  private  buildings :  ex  gr., 
mansions  of  the  wealthy,  for  the 
C.-in-C.  and  Officers  of  the  Staff; 
large  houses  of  the  better  class,  for 
Field  Officers;  suites  of  rooms  for 
company  officers,  warrant  officers, 
and  principal  N.C.O.'s;  and,  seeing 
that  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  live 
alone,  in  all  these  cases  the  wives  and 
children  must  be  added  unto  them. 
Used  also  of  individuals:  for  ser- 
vice of  various  kinds  connected 
with  the  occupation,  as  for  the 
maintenance  and  working  of  all 
means  of  transport,  posts,  telegraphs, 
and  telephones;  for  assistance  in 


1  "  The  German  Government  shall  undertake,  moreover,  to  place  at  the  disposal 
of  the  Allied  and  Associated  troops,  and  to  maintain  in  good  state  of  repair,  all 
the  military  establishments  required  for  the  said  troops,  with  the  necessary 
furniture,  heating,  and  lighting,  in  accordance  with  the  regulations  concerning 
these  matters  in  force  in  the  various  armies  concerned.  These  shall  include 
accommodation  for  officers  and  men,  guard-rooms,  offices,  administrative,  regi- 
mental, and  'staff  headquarters,  workshops,  store-rooms,  hospitals,  laundries, 
regimental  schools,  riding  schools,  training  grounds,  and  rifle  and  artillery  ranges, 
aviation  grounds,  grazing  grounds,  warehouses  for  supplies  and  grounds  for  mili- 
tary manoeuvres,  also  theatre  and  cinema  premises,  and  reasonable  facilities  for 
sport  and  for  recreation  grounds  for  the  troops." — (Rhineland  Agreement,  art.  10.) 


364 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


billeting,  and  maintenance  of  public 
order. 

"  The  billeting  regulations  in  force 
in  the  various  Army  Zones  impose, 
in  the  case  of  private  buildings, 
certain  duties  on  the  owner  or 
occupier;  generally  those  which  re- 
sult in  ordinary  circumstances  from 
letting  houses  or  apartments  :  ex  gr., 
to  provide  heating  and  lighting, 
supply  of  water  .'h.  and  c.\  and 
the  usual  service:  plate,  linen,  et 
hoc  genus  omne ;  the  rent  paid  by 
the  Governing  Body  of  the  occupied 
town,  as  the  Ober-Burgermeister, 
and  recovered  from  the  Government 
of  the  country,  and  charged  against 
the  item  '  Reparations.'  " 

This  is  not  exactly  a  pleasant 
state  of  things.  Billeting  is 
not  very  popular  when  it  is 
enforced  at  home  in  respect  of 
our  own  troops,  and  was  not 
always  cheerfully  acquiesced  in 
during  the  war.  It  was  an 
obligation  which  others  should 
submit  to,  certainly ;  but  for 
ourselves,  there  were  a  dozen 
cogent  reasons  why  it  should 
be  evaded  if  possible.  The 
wonder  is  that  Cologne  sub- 
mits to  it  so  calmly,  that  there 
is  .so  little  friction.  Discipline 
plays  its  silent  part,  enforcing 
good  behaviour  on  the  occupy- 
ing troops ;  and  courts-martial 
deal  with  occasional  offences 
against  good  order. 

"  So  little  friction  "  implies 
that  there  is  a  little ;  but  the 
main  cause  lies  beyond  the 
reach  of  discipline — incompati- 
bility of  temper  between  the 
female  "  billetor  "  or  "  billetee" 
— the  ladies,  God  bless  them  ! 
Sometimes  it  is  Norah  O'Grady, 
sometimes  the  officer's  lady, 
who  proves  "  uncertain,  coy, 
and  hard  to  please  "  in  some 


little  matter  of  household 
economy.  Ah,  well !  is  it  not 
now  our  hour  of  ease  ?  And, 
with  the  wisdom  of  the  ser- 
pent, the  men  who  settled 
these  things  decided  that  such 
complaints  should  be  brought 
before  the  Military  Billeting 
Authorities,  English  and  Ger- 
man ;  and  they  deal  justly,  as 
men  of  the  world,  with  this 
disturbing  but  very  human 
factor. 

The  administration  of  the 
occupied  territories  is  vested 
in  a  civilian  body,  the  Inter- 
Allied  Ehineland  High  Com- 
mission, which  came  into  exist- 
ence by  virtue  of  the  agreement 
between  England,  France,  Bel- 
gium, and  the  United  States, 
and  Germany,  known  as  the 
"  Ehineland  Agreement,"  sign- 
ed at  Versailles  the  28th  June 
1919.  The  Commission  was 
recognised  therein  as  "  the 
supreme  representative  of  the 
Allied  and  Associated  Powers 
within  the  occupied  territory," 
and  was  invested  with  "  the 
power  to  issue  ordinances  so 
far  as  may  be  necessary  for 
securing  the  maintenance, 
safety,  and  requirements  of 
the  Allied  and  Associated 
forces."  A  few  details  will 
complete  the  picture  of  the 
occupation.  No  German  troops 
(except  prisoners  of  war  in 
process  of  repatriation)  are  to 
be  admitted  into  the  terri- 
tories, even  in  transit ;  the 
armed  forces  of  the  Allies  and 
the  persons  in  the  service  of 
the  troops  are  exclusively  sub- 
ject to  the  military  law  of 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels. 


365 


those  forces  respectively.  Any 
person  committing  an  offence 
against  the  persons  or  property 
of  the  Allied  forces  may  be 
made  amenable  to  the  military 
courts  ;  but,  subject  to  this, 
the  German  courts  continue 
to  exercise  their  civil  and  crimi- 
nal jurisdiction  over  foreigners. 

The  High  Commission,  the 
members  of  which  enjoy  diplo- 
matic privileges  and  immuni- 
ties, has  its  home  in  Coblenz : 
there  is  the  seat  of  government ; 
there,  in  the  calm  seclusion  of 
the  pretty  Ehineland  town  lying 
in  the  shadow  of  Ehrenbreit- 
stein,  the  High  Commissioners 
sit,  like  gods  together,  wielding 
the  thunderbolts.  In  fact,  a 
temporary  Olympus. 

Unto  this  last !  Ehrenbreit- 
stein  for  centuries  has  been  a 
very  shuttlecock,  tossed  to  and 
fro  between  nobles,  Archbishop 
Electors,  the  German  Empire, 
and  France.  When,  in  1801, 
Napoleon's  frontier  reached  at 
last  to  the  left  bank  of  the 
Ehine,  and  the  poor  little 
princelings  received  in  exchange 
for  their  tiny  princedoms  bits 
of  the  secularised  domains  of 
belligerent  Churchmen  on  the 
right  bank,  the  fort,  captured 
by  famine  and  blown  up,  was 
restored  to  Germany  at  Lune"- 
ville,  to  remain  dismantled. 
The  conqueror  conquered, 
and  all  his  treaties  torn  up, 
"The  Rock"  of  the  Ehine 
was  again  made  impregnable, 
and  so  remained  till,  once  more, 
"  Peace  destroyed  what  war 
could  never  blight,"  and  the 
curse  of  LuneVille  revived  at 
Versailles.  Guns  surrendered, 


an   alien  flag   floats   over  the 
battlements.    Unto  this  last ! 

In  Cologne  a  Commissioner 
controls  on  behalf  of  the  Olym- 
pians the  execution  of  their 
ordinances  in  the  British  Zone. 
As  chief  executive  officer  there- 
in he  is  the  right  hand  of  the 
High  Commission ;  as  watchman 
in  ordinary  and  reporter  in 
chief,  its  right  eye.  And  the 
headquarters  of  Mr  Commis- 
sioner and  his  staff  are  at  the 
Dom  Hotel. 

The  happy  days  have  passed 
away  when  a  pilgrimage  of 
grace  to  the  plains  and  cities 
of  the  Ehine  was  the  touch  of 
culture  which  made  the  whole 
world  kin  ;  the  first  stage  of 
it  a  week  in  Cologne,  to  furbish 
up  our  history  and  absorb  a 
little  of  the  spirit  of  Germany, 
making  critical  entries  in  our 
notebooks  for  future  use.  What 
pleasanter  rest-house  than  the 
"Dom,"  with  the  Cathedral 
just  across  the  way  (note: 
"  impressive  by  its  size  and 
upstanding  twin  spires ;  but 
you  cannot  see  the  building 
for  its  ornament  ")  ;  shopping 
all  the  morning  in  the  narrow 
crowded  streets,  and  a  walk 
to  Deutz  over  the  great  Hohen- 
zollern  Bridge  (note  :  "  fine, 
but  the  four  equestrian  statues 
quite  dreadful  ")  ;  driving  in 
the  afternoon  round  the  Eing 
(note:  "four  miles  of  boule- 
vard in  excelsiSj  a  veritable 
triumph  of  town-planning  ")  ; 
and  every  evening  to  the  Opern- 
haus,  with  its  prodigious  reper- 
tory— Gliick  to  Meyerbeer,  Wag- 
ner to  Puccini :  miracles  of 


366 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


stage  management,  mounted  as 
Oovent  Garden  never  dreamed 
of  ;  crowded  every  night,  a  real 
home  of  music  (note :  "  and  oh  ! 
so  cheap ! ") ;  and  afterwards  the 
leisurely  journey  up  the  Ehine — 

"Between  the  banks   which  bear  the 

vine, 
And   hills   all   rich    with    blossom'd 

trees, 
And  fields  which  promise  corn  and 

wine, 

And  scattered  cities  crowning  these, 
Whose  far  white   walls   along  them 

shine." 

.jBeautiful  Bonn,  bosomed  in 
trees   (where  Julia  spent  such 
a  happy  year  spelling  her  way 
through  the  German  grammar, 
and  George  joined  her  in  his 
summer  holidays  to  do  a  little 
cramming  for  his  army  exam. 
Julia  is  helping  in  the  Y.M.C.A. 
now,   and   George   is   a   Kreis 
officer — a  very  important  post, 
and  very  dangerous,  because  he 
has  to  live  in  the  Bridgehead : 
such  a  queer  place  to  put  a  man 
in  !)  ;    past  "  the  castled  crag 
of  Drachenfels  "  (the  line  from 
'  Childe   Harold  '    remembered 
without  the  aid  of  Baedeker), 
crown    of    the    Siebengebirge ; 
then  the  tiny  territory  of  Neu- 
wied,  whose  surviving  prince- 
ling  ^played    an    ignominious 
part  in  Balkan  politics  ;    the 
bridge    of    boats,    and   pretty 
villas    of    Coblenz ;     then   the 
valley  itself,  with  feudal  castles 
perched  on  inaccessible  rocks ; 
past  St  Goar,  through  the  gorge 
of   the   Lorelei,   the   steamer's 
whistle  waking    the   echoes, — 
some    romantic    passenger   al- 
ways insisting  that  he  heard  the 
songs  of  the  sirens  luring  hap- 


less sailors  to  their  doom;  till  we 
came  toBingen,  and  so  to  Mainz. 

All  passed  the  way  of  dreams. 
The  old  hotel  has  suffered  a 
war-change.  Its  rooms  are 
offices  now,  or  "  billets  "  for 
officers  and  their  wives.  There 
is  still  much  coming  and  going, 
but  everybody  is  on  duty — 
except  occasionally  a  distin- 
guished traveller  with  a  special 
permit,  the  city  is  full  of  men 
on  duty ;  but  the  utmost 
courtesy  prevails — it  is  the  way 
of  the  English  when  they  are 
on  top  to  ignore  the  feud, 
and  they  are  specially  particu- 
lar not  to  forget  the  waiters. 
Sparing  the  feelings  of  others, 
they  are  treated  by  the  hotel 
staff  as  in  old  days  they  treated 
welcome  guests.  The  "  Dom  " 
was  always  the  travellers'  home, 
where  they  found  good  refresh- 
ment, and  music,  music,  all  the 
day.  In  this  nothing  has  been 
changed ;  perhaps  when  the 
happy  days  return,  these  men 
on  duty,  no  longer  in  uniform, 
will  come  again  as  friends. 

But  it  is  a  complicated  busi- 
ness this  occupation  ;  there  are 
so  many  Commissions  and  Com- 
mittees ;  everything  is  under 
control — roads,  rivers,  railways, 
tramways,  even  the  navigation 
of  the  Ehine — everything. 

But  on  Saturday  nights  there 
are  dinner-parties,  and  after 
dinner  the  word  goes  round, 
"  Let  us  dance  "  ;  then  for  a 
few  hours  the  old  gaiety  pre- 
vails. Tables  are  pushed  to  one 
side ;  despatches  and  reports, 
minutes  and  memoranda,  are 
all  forgot.  The  musicians  will- 
ingly play  on  to  the  witching 


1921.]                                      Two  Hotels.  367 

hours  of  morning  ;  alas  and  and  a  troop  of  Military  Mounted 
alack-a-day,  the  "  syncopated  "  Police,  marched  into  the  main 
sounds  and  rhythmless  jangling  street  and  lined  up  before  the 
which  do  duty  for  the  dancing  Eathhaus  ;  then  came  the  Com- 
of  to-day.  But  sometimes,  the  missioner  with  the  Colonel  re- 
spirit  of  Strauss  protesting,  presenting  the  British  army, 
the  fiddlers  call  the  tune,  and  and  a  fitting  array  of  officers, 
once  more  the  lilt  of  "  Tau-  The  Burgomaster  and  Council 
send  und  eine  Nacht"  and  advanced,  three  of  them  women, 
"  Wein,  Weib  und  Gesang  "  the  men  bare-headed,  and  ex- 
holds  captive  our  willing  feet,  pressed  real  regret  for  the  un- 

>ili  fcj fortunate  occurrence,  which  was 

The  day's  work  calls.  "  eine  Beleidigung  der  Britischen 
A  large  manufacturing  city  Besatzungarmee  und  der  Ehine- 
must  inevitably  be  the  centre  landkommission  und  der  Konig- 
of  disaffection.  Assuredly  the  lich  Britischen  Uniform  "  ("an 
people  don't  like  the  occupa-  insult  to  the  British  occupy- 
tion,  and  sometimes  there  are  ing-army,  the  Rhineland-High- 
"  difficulties  "  ;  but  in  dealing  Commission,  and  the  Imperial 
with  them  it  is  hardly  necessary  British  uniform").  Energetic 
to  take  off  the  velvet  glove,  precautions  would  be  taken  to 
A  few  minutes'  talk  over  the  prevent  a  recurrence  of  such 
telephone  with  Army  Head-  undignified  and  dangerous  ac- 
quarters,  a  route-march  through  tion,  to  be  condemned  in  the 
the  disaffected  area  is  arrang-  strongest  and  sharpest  way, 
ed,  and  things  speedily  reduce  for  it  could  only  disturb  the 
themselves  to  their  accustomed  good  co-operation  of  the  British 
order ;  as  happened  one  fine  authorities  and  the  German 
day  last  March  during  a  spell  people  in  the  district.  The 
of  commercial  unrest,  when  a  town  of  Wald  requested  pardon. 
Kreis  officer  in  uniform  was  In  a  few  well-chosen  words 
insulted  by  the  crowd  in  the  in  their  own  tongue,  the  Corn- 
little  town  of  Wald.  The  local  missioner  pointed  out  that 
German  police  were  apathetic,  the  occupation  of  a  foreign 
and  the  municipal  authorities  country  carried  with  it  certain 
could  not,  certainly  did  not,  responsibilities,  the  chief  of 
restrain  the  mob.  Clearly  a  which  was  the  preservation  of 
case  for  summary  action.  The  law  and  order,  and  that  in  the 
Burgomaster  and  Town  Council  fulfilment  of  this  task  the  co- 
were  bidden  to  make  public  operation  of  the  local  authori- 
apology.  Within  a  week,  with  ties  was  necessary.  The  cere- 
due  ceremonial,  calculated  by  mony  would  serve  as  a  warn- 
its  simple  effectiveness  to  in-  ing  that  such  occurrences  could 
culcate  the  necessary  lesson,  it  in  no  circumstances  be  toler- 
was  given  and  received.  A  ated.  The  pardon  granted, 
detachment  of  the  Middlesex  they  must  not  occur  again. 
Regiment,  with  Lewis  gunners,  But  strikes,  result  of  genuine 


368 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


grievances  or  fostered  by  com- 
munist agitators,  are  the  prin- 
cipal source  of  trouble  ;  and 
the  problem  in  statecraft  pre- 
sented to  the  High  Commission, 
where  to  draw  the  line  between 
interference  and  non-interfer- 
ence, was  by  no  means  easy, — 
yet  skilfully  accomplished.  The 
principle  was  clear :  pacifica- 
tion of  labour  or  political  trou- 
bles does  not  come  within  the 
duties  of  the  Army  of  Occupa- 
tion ;  Germany  must  be  left 
to  settle  her  domestic  affairs  in 
her  own  way.  After  much 
deliberation  the  happy  mean 
was  arrived  at.  When  a  dis- 
turbance, whatever  its  origin, 
results  in  some  overt  act  pre- 
judicial to  the  safety  of  the 
Army  of  Occupation,  the  Mili- 
tary Tribunals  must  be  re- 
sorted to.  All  strikers  hope  by 
stopping  trains  or  trams  to 
terrorise  the  community  into 
sympathy  ;  but  the  tramways 
are  part  of  the  system  of  trans- 
port on  which  the  occupying 
troops  depend  for  their  mo- 
bility ;  and  so  it  came  about 
quite  recently  that  the  ring- 
leaders of  a  political  strike  who 
had  ordered  the  conductors  to 
take  their  cars  back  to  the 
sheds,  were  brought  before  the 
Court,  and  after  argument  by 
German  counsel  for  the  accused, 
were  condemned  to  four  months' 
imprisonment. 

For  the  onlooker  the  most 
interesting  part  of  the  hearing 
was  the  courteous  relations  be- 
tween counsel  and  the  Presiding 
Officer,  based  on  English  judi- 
cial traditions,  and  the  recog- 
nition, I  think  I  am  right  in 


saying,  by  the  accused  as  well 
as  their  advocate,  of  the  neces- 
sity for  the  Strike  Ordinance, 
the  moderation  of  it,  the  im- 
partiality with  which  it  was 
administered.  And  herein  lies 
one  of  the  secrets  which  has 
made  the  British  occupation  so 
successful. 

In  this  success  Tommy  also 
plays  his  part.  His  elder- 
brotherly  attitude  towards  the 
people,  which  has  earned  for 
him  the  title  of  the  "Tactful 
Soldier,"  has  already  been  writ- 
ten of  in  '  Maga.'  His  views 
are  somewhat  mixed  and  diffi- 
cult to  explain  to  his  friends 
when  he  comes  home  on  leave. 
They  are  puzzled  to  find  that 
he  does  not  dislike  the  Hun, 
shocked  at  his  genial  attitude 
towards  him,  and  he  is  taunted 
with  having  become  "  pro- 
Boche."  He  defends  himself, 
without  great  gift  of  tongue, 
except  sincerity  :  "  Well,  look 
here,"  he  says.  "  this  is  how  it 
is.  I  do  pity  the  women  and 
try  to  be  nice  to  them,  and  so 
would  you  if  you  saw  how 
hard  they  work,  and  the  mark 
down  to  next  to  nothing  at 
all ;  and  the  poor  little  kids, 
it  ain't  their  fault.  As  for 
Fritz,  I'm  sorry  for  the  chap, 
and  I  ain't  going  to  hit  him 
now  he's  down  and  out.  And 
he's  trying  to  be  up  and  in 
again;"  then,  and  this  very 
seriously :  "  look  here,  mates 
all,  he  works,  and  works  hard, 
time  and  overtime,  the  which, 
according  to  the  papers,  is  not 
wot  you  old  blokes  at  home 
are  doing." 

"  Get    along,    mate,    you're 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels. 


369 


just  too  jolly  comfortable  out 
there  ;  that's  wot  that  means." 

"  And  wot  if  it  does  !  Wot 
I  sez  is,  the  women  does  their 
best  to  smooth  things  down, 
and  I'm  going  to  do  mine.  The 
world  would  be  a  funny  place 
if  you  went  on  hating  for  ever." 

Tommy  has,  in  fact,  made  a 
great  impression  on  the  German 
mind,  and  in  many  houses 
"  English  custom  "  has  already 
found  its  way.  Preux,  mais  tant 
soit  pen  baroque,  chevalier,  he 
has  eased  the  burden  of  the 
requisition,  in  some  measure 
overcome  the  rancour.  And 
there  have  been  "  mixed  mar- 
riages," and  hostages  given  to 
fortune,  over  whose  descendants 
let  us  hope  the  spirit  of  old 
Calvin  and  his  "  case "  will 
watch,  for  many  abstruse  legal 
conundrums  as  to  their  status 
must  result  from  the  occupa- 
tion. 

Spoiling  the  Egyptians  is  not 
included  in  the  Atkins  method  ; 
and  there  are  some  who  think 
that  Egypt  will  be  sorry  when 
he  goes  ;  is  at  least  grateful 
for  the  relief  he  has  brought 
from  the  exactions  of  a  ram- 
pant officialdom.  "  My  dear," 
a  Hansel  I  know  said  to  his 
Gretel,  "it  is  not  unendur- 
able the  occupation,  for  the 
English  soldier  has  a  good  heart. 
Also  we  must  remember  that 
if  our  Oer-mannia  had  won  the 
war  we  should  without  doubt 
have  been  ordered  to  salute  even 
the  letter-boxes  !  " 

But  Tommy  is  not  always 
the  soldier  with  the  chocolates. 
He  has  a  stern  way  with  him 
when  he  is  on  duty,  and  won't 


stand  any  nonsense,  as  denned 
by  the  Ordinances  of  the  High 
Commission ;  and  then  the 
meaning  of  occupation  is 
brought  home  to  Fritz,  which,  if 
he  is  wise,  he  accepts  with  phil- 
osophy. Only  occasionally  is 
there  a  little  flutter  of  rebel- 
lion, the  cure  for  which  is 
administered  in  the  Military 
Court,  where  he  will  find  him- 
self arraigned  before  a  British 
officer :  the  reality  of  things 
brought  home  to  him  by  the 
presence  of  a  khaki  soldier  with 
fixed  bayonet,  and  the  soldier 
who  arrested  him  solemnly 
giving  evidence  on  oath  of 
his  offence.  But  gradually  it 
dawns  on  him  that  his  case 
is  being  inquired  into  with 
an  infinite  patience.  Even  if 
there  were,  which  there  is  not, 
the  slightest  inclination  on  the 
part  of  Private  John  Hodge, 
West  Dorset  Begiment,  No. 
5834869,  to  swear  him  out  of 
Court,  "  O.i/C.  Prosecutions  " 
has  examined  him  with  scrupu- 
lous fairness,  and  the  Presiding 
Officer  himself  tests  the  accu- 
racy of  his  statements  in  the 
smallest  detail,  persistent  in 
getting  the  truth  from  the  deep 
wells  of  Private  John  Hodge's 
memory.  And  Fritz  himself 
is  allowed  to  make  a  statement, 
which,  wonder  of  wonders !  is 
listened  to.  And  sometimes, 
to  his  amazement,  he  finds 
himself  discharged  ;  and,  salut- 
ing, leaves  the  Court  a  happier 
and  a  wiser  man. 

While  in  jeopardy  rebellious 
thoughts  had  the  upper  hand  : 
May  I  not  then  walk  where  I  like 
in  my  own  city  ?  on  the  pave- 


370 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


ment  if  I  choose,  although  a 
man  in  khaki  warned  me  not 
to?  What  right  had  he  ?  What 
is  it  to  me  that  some  other  man, 
he  too  in  khaki,  was  going  into 
the  Excelsior  Hotel  ?  What 
do  I  care  for  his  red  tabs  ! 
Deutschland  uber  .  .  .  Ach !  I 
forgot ;  the  man  who  warned 
me  was  a  sentry,  the  man  with 
the  red  tabs  was  C.-in-C.,  the 
old  hotel  was  hotel  no  longer, 
but  "  H.Q.  British  Army  of  the 
Ehine."  Yes,  it  was  serious, 
and  I  foolish  ;  obedience  had 
been  better.  And  when  Herr 
President  suddenly  put  the 
question  to  me,  "  You  have 
served  in  the  German  Army, 
and  know  what  the  sentry's 
warning  meant  ?  "  the  rebellion 
in  my  heart  flickered  out  and 
died.  Many  days  must  now  be 
spent  in  prison,  lest  others 
should  do  the  same.  Then,  it 
is  true,  discipline  would  exist 
no  longer.  The  safety  of  the 
Army  of  Occupation  demands 
that  even  such  little  matters 
should  be  sternly  dealt  with. 

But  occupation  is  occupa- 
tion, and  brings  with  it  many 
inconveniences ;  a  parade  in 
the  Domplatz,  for  example,  when 
the  whole  space  is  filled  with 
troops — very  smart  troops  it 
must  be  admitted,  though  re- 
cruited since  the  war  and  few 
wearing  medals,  the  "  Devils  in 
Petticoats  "  especially  ;  but 
they  revive  unhappy  memories, 
and  their  bagpipe-screeching 
offends  the  so  -  highly  -  trained 
musical  ear — and  all  traffic 
held  up  for  two  hours  at  least : 
tramcars  stopped,  streets 
blocked.  We  also  know  what 


a  ceremonial  parade  means,  the 
time  it  takes  to  get  the  troops 
into   position,   and    afterwards 
for  them  to  move  off.     It  is 
then  the  occupation  hurts  bad- 
ly, and    national    feelings    are 
lacerated.    Yet  sometimes  mili- 
tary instinct  makes  one  curious. 
There  is  a  large  gathering  of  red- 
tabbed  men  outside  Excelsior 
Hotel ;     they    are    joined    by 
others  in  horizon-blue — painful 
to  see,  but  we  in  Cologne  do 
not  suffer  like  our  friends  in 
Bonn — they  have  the  iron  in 
their    souls.      It    becomes    in- 
teresting,  for   the   troops    are 
in  position  now,  but  they  wait. 
Then  there  comes  a  tall  man 
in  uniform  ;   he  is  saluted,  yet 
he  also  waits.     Ah  !    there  is 
a  car :    who  will   this  be  ?     I 
recognise  without  difficulty  the 
C.-in-C.   of  the  Allied  Armies 
of  the  Ehine,  General  D4goutte. 
A  soldier  in  the  crowd  tells  me 
he  is  to  be  decorated  with  the 
Order  of  the  Bath — the  Black 
Eagle  would  indeed  have  been 
the  more  honourable, — and  that 
the  tall  man  is  the  C.I.G.S. — 
what  is  that  for  a  rank  ? — and 
has    come   all   the   way   from 
England    on   purpose.      Then, 
crash,  crash,  the  "  Marseillaise  " 
— how  painful  are  my  feelings  ; 
I  would  go  home  to  Frauchen, 
but  the  crowd  is  so  great,  and 
there  are  no  trams.     What  is 
this  f     My  heels  have  clicked 
together  of  their  own  accord — 
I    am    standing    at    attention, 
.  .  .  my  hand  has   moved  to 
the    salute.  ...  It    is    fitting 
.  .  .  but   I   am   not   in   field- 
grey.  ...  I  will  take  off  my 
hat,  .  .  .  and  again,  when  the 


1921.] 


Two  Hotels. 


371 


band  plays  the  English  national 
anthem  ...  a  little  quicker 
and  it  would  be  our  own  .  .  . 
but  my  heart  contracts.  ...  I 
would  all  this  were  different ; 
I  would  .  .  .  Ach  !  what  does 
it  matter  what  I  "  would  "  1 
The  might-have-been  has  passed 
von  JEwiglceit  zu  Ewigkeit.  I 
have  seen  things  as  they  are, 
and  must  be — the  safety  of 
the  Army  of  Occupation  re- 
quires it ;  and  indeed  there  is 
something  to  be  grateful  for. 
If  the  parade  had  been  fixed 
at  the  time  of  Mittag-essen,  the 
stoppage  of  the  trams  would 
have  been  too  seriously  incon- 
venient. I  will  tell  Frauchen 
that  the  good  Herr  Kolonel- 
Chief-of-the-Staff  was  careful 
it  should  not  be  so. 

And  after  the  occupation  ? 
Will  it  be  Revanche,  or  Peace  ? 
an  attempt  to  recover  restored 
provinces,  and  that  failing,  yet 
another :  or  succeeding,  war 
to  win  them  back  again — wars 
without  end ;  or  Peace,  and 
the  present  settlement  ac- 
cepted ?  Which  prompts  the 
question,  What  is  Peace  ?  If 
Christendom  were  something 
more  than  an  antique  term,  if 
the  conduct  of  nations  were 
guided  by  the  doctrines  which 
the  Churchmen  preach  :  if,  as 
the  Judges  year  by  year  invoke 
guidance  to  right  judgment  in 
all  things,  Prime  Ministers  and 
Cabinets  should  attend  public 
worship,  the  High  Priest  would 
exhort  them  that  the  founda- 
tion of  Christian  teaching  is 
atonement  and  remission  of 
sin,  from  which,  though  the 


sin  were  as  scarlet,  none  are 
excluded.  He  would  remind 
them  that  the  Law  itself,  cruel 
as  are  its  harsh  penalties,  yet 
recognises  that  the  payment  of 
the  penalty  blots  out  the  offence. 
And  he  would  insist  that  even 
this  savage  crime  against  the 
world  cannot  logically  be  ex- 
cluded from  the  operation  of 
the  Divine  Law,  unless  the 
Allied  and  Associated  Powers 
are  preparing  for  the  world  not 
Peace  but  a  Sword. 

Then  the  Prime  Ministers 
and  the  Cabinets  would  an- 
swer :  there  is  a  condition 
precedent  to  the  Christian  doc- 
trine, contrition ;  when  the 
heart  is  changed  reconciliation 
will  follow.  They  would  point 
out  that  the  Law  itself  deals 
specially  with  re'cidive ;  and 
that  Germany  has  openly,  by 
her  Minister  of  State,  denied 
her  responsibility  for  the  war, 
and  by  so  removing  the  very 
corner-stone  of  the  Treaty 
of  Peace,  justified  not  merely 
the  new  Sanctions,  but  also 
doubt  as  to  her  future  conduct. 
Thus  we  are  in  the  centre  of  a 
vicious  circle  :  if  there  is  to  be 
Peace  the  Allies  must  forgive  ; 
if  there  is  to  be  forgiveness, 
Germany  must  prepare  the 
way. 

To  suggest  that  Christian 
doctrine  should  influence  the 
nations  in  this  matter  ignores 
everything  that  experience 
teaches  us  to  expect.  This 
question  of  ultimate  Peace  must 
therefore  be  looked  at  from  a 
mundane,  or  as  it  would  be 
called,  a  more  practical  point 
of  view.  And  here  there  is  a 


372 


Two  Hotels. 


[Sept. 


difficulty  which  results  from 
the  Treaty  itself  ;  there  is  no 
correlation  between  the  "  Re- 
parations "  and  the  "Guaran- 
tees "  clauses.  It  is  now  ad- 
mitted that  the  payment  of 
reparations  must  be  spread 
over  a  long  number  of  years  ; 
but  the  occupation  of  the 
Rhineland  will  cease,  as  to 
Cologne  in  five  years,  as  to 
Coblenz  in  ten  years,  and  as  to 
the  remainder  in  fifteen  years 
from  the  date  of  signing  the 
Treaty,  when  Germany  will  re- 
sume her  national  independ- 
ence. So  it  is  a  fair  question, 
"  What  then  t  "—the  question 
which  France  so  insistently 
asks — What  certainty  is  there 
that  Germany  will  not  once 
more  make  ready  for  war  ? 
Thus  the  question  with  which 
we  started  is  shelved,  not  an- 
swered. And  this  suggests  an- 
other :  Will  the  League  of 
Nations  by  that  time  have  out- 
grown its  somewhat  sickly  youth 
and  have  developed  a  robust- 
ness which  will  give  it  suffi- 
cient authority  to  insist,  in 
the  cant  phrase  of  the  day, 


that  the  world  remain  "  safe 
for  democracy  "  ?  or,  to  get 
rid  of  the  jargon  of  the  Pro- 
fessor at  the  Conference  Table, 
safe  for  France,  for  Belgium, 
for  Italy,  and  last  but  not  least, 
safe  for  the  British  Empire  ? 
The  Treaty-makers  have  done 
what  they  could,  though  the 
world  is  not  quite  satisfied 
that  Wisdom  is  justified  of  her 
Four  Big  Children.  Peace  now 
rests  with  those  who  are  charged 
with  the  settlement  of  the 
financial  problem,  and  that  is 
complicated  enough  in  all  con- 
science for  men  whose  minds 
have  not  been  trained  to  think 
in  billions.  Inevitably,  the 
need  being  so  great,  they  are 
engrossed  with  the  question  of 
present  payment.  But  the 
problem  cannot  be  solved  com- 
pletely unless,  with  a  great 
prevision,  the  terms  of  the 
settlement  ensure  Peace  for 
future  generations.  Nor  can 
it  be  solved  unless  Tommy's 
homely  philosophy  be  borne  in 
mind,  "  The  world  would  be  a 
funny  place  if  you  went  on 
hating  for  ever." 


192.1.] 


373 


KHUDTJ. 


BY  L.   V.   S.   B. 


THE  hard-faced  mounted  in- 
fantry havildar,  who  carried 
the  furrows  of  a  Bavarian 
grenade  across  his  cheek,walked 
his  smart  little  Arab  stallion 
along  the  front  of  the  flying 
column.  First  a  sheepskin- 
bonneted  Kurdish  "  Dahba- 
shi  "  made  his  report,  then  an 
upstanding  regular  Yusafzai 
Naik  of  bombers,  after  him 
the  bobbed-haired  hawk-nosed 
Khattak  commander  of  the 
Lewis-gun  section,  and  finally, 
a  slit-eyed,  wizen-faced  "  one- 
pip  "  Mongol,  who  led  the 
couple  of  score  Hazara  foot 
levies  who  formed  the  bulk  of 
the  tiny  army. 

With  a  final  glance  at  the 
dozen  raking  Khurasan  mules, 
to  see  that  their  cargo  of 
"  '303  in  chargers  "  was  cor- 
rect and  properly  loaded,  the 
"  vieux  moustache  "  wheeled 
to  his  chief,  and,  cutting  away 
his  hand,  reported  "  all  present 
and  correct."  The  Pathan 
"  Wurdi  -  major  "  who  had, 
twenty  minutes  before,  been 
designated  to  command  the 
column,  clattered  on  his  big 
Waler  mare  up  the  narrow 
cobbled  street  of  the  village 
to  obtain  the  major's  permis- 
sion to  march  off.  He  found 
him  standing  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
a  sheaf  of  signal  messages  in 
his  hand,  with  the  Captain  of 
the  regular  infantry  company, 


at  the  door  of  the  little  shanty 
wherein  a  solitary  British  sol- 
dier, with  the  aid  of  a  "  D 
Mark  III.,"  kept  the  outposts 
in  touch  with  their  main  body, 
nearly  150  miles  away,  across 
three  ranges  of  hills. 

A  moment  later  a  couple  of 
brief  words  of  command 
brought  the  motley  force  up 
the  "  High  Street."  Debouch- 
ing from  the  village,  whose 
eastern  disorderliness  was 
tinged  with  a  certain  raffish 
south  European  flavouring  of 
glazed  shop  fronts,  whitewash, 
and  blue  paint,  it  passed 
the  billet  of  the  regular 
Pathan  and  Punjabi  N.C.O.'s, 
which  they  had  adorned  with 
round  iron  tables  and  garden 
chairs  set  about  with  a  few 
laboriously-tended  shrubs,  the 
result  of  the  restaurant  habit, 
acquired  in  Flanders,  that  they 
had  transplanted  to  Khurasan. 
A  few  yards  farther  up,  the 
"  shabby  genteel  "  guard  of 
Gendarmerie  turned  out  in  their 
brown-paper  accoutrements  and 
tin  swords,  and  paid  the  appro- 
priate compliments  in  the  Swed- 
ish fashion.  Half  a  mile  beyond, 
the  force  had  climbed  gently  up 
a  stony  glen  on  to  a  triangu- 
lar plateau,  perhaps  as  large 
as  Kensington  Gardens,  that 
marked  the  water  parting  be- 
tween the  Caspian  basin  and 
that  of  the  Sea  of  Aral.  A 


374 


Khudu. 


[Sept. 


matchlock  shot  to  the  Wurdi- 
major's  right,  a  couple  of 
"  sentry  groups  "  of  regular 
sepoys  looked  down  a  steep 
slope  over  a  crenelated  granite 
fortalice,  held  by  an  insanitary 
Soviet  garrison ;  and  out  on 
to  the  immense  plain  of  Turki- 
stan,  that  stretches  northward 
without  a  hill,  to  the  shore  of 
the  Arctic  Ocean.  In  a  tiny 
"  Christian "  hamlet  a  mile 
below,  half  a  dozen  recently- 
colonised  families  of  the 
"  Molokan  "  sect  had  exchanged 
the  oppression  of  "  Orthodox  " 
Imperial  Chenovniks  for  the 
tortures,  shootings,  and  pillage 
of  innumerable  "  Eed  "  com- 
missars. These  upholders  of 
liberty  and  the  rights  of  man 
divided  their  business  hours 
between  "  nationalising  "  the 
few  bushels  of  grain  the  "  Molo- 
kani "  struggled  to  grow  on 
the  stony  sun-baked  slopes, 
and  squeezing  the  tatterde- 
malion Persian  donkey-drivers 
that  carried  charcoal  and  fire- 
wood across  that  rugged  fron- 
tier. 

Once  on  the  plateau,  at  a 
word  from  the  Wurdi-major 
three  or  four  files  of  the  Kurd- 
ish horsemen  galloped  venire  d 
terre,  as  was  their  wont,  tails, 
manes,  and  sheepskin  bonnets 
streaming  in  the  wind,  left 
hand  down  steadying  the  butt 
of  the  slung  long  Lee  Metford, 
to  their  places  to  cover  the 
front  of  the  column. 

Threading  their  way  between 
the  tiny  patches  of  stunted 
corn,  still  green,  that  covered 
the  stony  plateau,  the  Lewis 


gunners  released  certain  straps 
on  their  pack  -  saddles,  the 
bombers  looked  again  to  their 
safety-pins  and  checked  their 
detonators,  whilst  the  section 
commanders  of  the  infantry 
made  sure  that  each  man's 
magazine  was  charged. 

The  column  had  been  sent 
out  at  twenty  minutes'  notice 
to  relieve  an  anxious  situation 
and  a  post  of  levies  cut  off  by 
insurgent  Kurds. 

The  Wurdi-major  was  fully 
aware  of  the  many  difficulties 
that  beset  his  chief,  but  he 
was  no  unworthy  son  of  that 
famous  Corps  whose  father, 
the  never-to-be-forgotten  Lums- 
den,  chose  for  his  following 
"  men  who  are  not  easily  taken 
aback  in  any  emergency " ; 
and  behind  him  were  a  leaven- 
ing of  men  who,  refusing  to  be 
taken  aback  in  that  most 
deadly  of  all  emergencies  that 
ever  threatened  the  King's 
troops,  attacked  into  the  gas- 
cloud  and  held  the  German 
advance  on  that  fatal  26th  of 
April  1915. 

The  little  outpost  position 
was  held  by  two  regular  com- 
panies, one  of  young  Punjabi 
infantry,  the  other  of  Indians, 
and  the  first  had  arrived  but 
two  hours  before.  Thirty  miles 
along  the  metalled  motor  road 
to  the  north,  a  whole  Bolshe- 
vik division,  with  quick-firing 
artillery,  aeroplanes,  and  ar- 
moured cars  threatened  the 
little  post,  and  awaited  the 
opening  that  their  "  political 
department "  had  worked  to 
create.  It  was  this  opening 


1921.] 


Khudu. 


375 


that  the  Wurdi-major  was  de- 
puted to  close.  For  some 
weeks  past  the  Soviet  had 
cultivated  the  acquaintance  of 
a  certain  Khuda  Verdi  Sardar, 
a  petty  Kurdish  chief,  who  had 
been  the  Macheath  of  those 
parts,  even  to  the  collecting 
of  seventeen  wives,  wenches, 
and  what-nots,  some  not  un- 
comely. The  advent  of  our 
troops  had  caused  a  depressing 
dulness  in  the  bandit  industry, 
and  Khudu,  as  he  was  familiarly 
called,  listened  readily  to  the 
wooings  of  Comrade  Paskutski. 
And  Comrade  Paskutski  sweet- 
ened his  promises  by  the  de- 
spatch, by  smugglers'  paths,  of 
several  hundred  magazine  rifles 
and  a  dozen  machine-guns  to 
Khudu's  ancestral  chateau  that 
topped  an  inaccessible  crag  in 
the  recesses  of  the  Aleh  Dagh. 

Three  days  before,  rendered 
pot-valiant  by  all  these  weap- 
ons, and  by  the  impassioned 
orations  of  Bolshevik  and  Pan- 
Turk  orators,  Khudu  had  al- 
lowed his  revolt  to  blaze  out. 
The  spark  that  kindled  the 
tinder  was  indeed  the  uninvit- 
ed butting-in  of  the  ubiquitous 
young  British  subaltern  to  the 
scene  of  a  gun-running.  In  a 
few  hours  every  one  of  Khudu's 
ragged  adherents  that  owned 
a  Eussian  "  Trokh-linie  "  ("  3- 
line  "  rifle)  or  a  "  Territorial  " 
Lee  Enfield,  was  on  his  little 
shaggy  stallion  in  the  tail  of 
his  chief.  The  first  casualty 
was  the  British  subaltern,  but 
points  were  soon  notched 
against  the  other  home  team 
side.  Meanwhile,  riding  boldly 


but  warily  through  the  hostile 
valleys,  the  three  or  four  patrols 
of  our  Kurdish  levies,  under 
their  regular  Pathan  and  Pun- 
jabi instructors,  that  had 
watched  the  160  miles  of  wild 
rocky  frontier  through  the 
snows  and  blizzards  of  the  past 
winter,  concentrated  at  the 
clump  of  hamlets  that  nestled 
in  the  border  valley  of  Jiristan. 

Jiristan,  twenty-two  toilsome 
rocky  miles  away,  was  now  the 
Wurdi-major's  objective,  for  it 
had  at  once  been  invested  by 
some  400  of  the  insurgents, 
not  before  a  reinforcement  of 
a  further  half  squadron  of 
our  own  Kurdish  levies  had 
reached  it,  plus  the  doubtful 
accretion  of  a  company  of 
regular  (save  the  mark !)  Per- 
sian infantry. 

The  whole  lot  had  now  been 
invested  for  four  days  by  sev- 
eral times  their  number  of 
insurgents,  and  their  scanty 
stock  of  ammunition  had  begun 
to  run  low.  Even  the  most 
dull  -  witted  understood  that 
the  revolt  had  been  organised 
by  the  Bolsheviks  to  draw  off 
some  of  the  regular  infantry 
from  the  outposts,  and  so  leave 
the  only  metalled  road  that 
.  led  into  Khurasan  open  for 
their  armoured  cars  and  lorries 
full  of  troops. 

The  regulars  were  accord- 
ingly prohibited  from  partaking 
in  any  move  to  relieve  Jiristan, 
or  to  carry  ammunition  to  its 
garrison. 

Still  the  ammunition  ques- 
tion was  urgent,  and  so  on 
the  third  day  a  half-dozen 


376 


Khudu. 


[Sept. 


Kurd  levies  took  out  three  or 
four  mules  under  the  leader- 
ship of  an  impetuous  young 
lance-dafadar,  an  Awan  from 
the  Punjab  Salt  Eange,  a 
tribe,  incidentally,  that  had 
a  percentage  of  its  volun- 
tarily enlisted  young  men  killed 
in  the  war  twice  larger  than 
that  of  any  county  in  Eng- 
land. 

This  rash  youth  decided  to 
bullock  his  way  through  the 
first  defile,  and  had  all  his 
men  hit  in  a  few  minutes  by 
accurate  rifle-fire  at  the  closest 
of  ranges.  It  was  a  wounded 
man  from  this  party  that 
brought  the  report  that  led 
to  the  despatch  of  the  Wurdi- 
major's  little  column,  in  order 
to  clear  matters  up,  and  here 
we  return  to  follow  its  fortunes. 

Arrived  at  the  far  end  of 
the  plateau,  the  leading  files 
scrambled  down  200  feet  of 
declivity  into  the  rough  valley 
of  Bardar,  through  which  a 
mule-track  ran  up,  over  a  pass 
of  7000  feet,  and  down  the 
other  side  straight  to  the  objec- 
tive. The  valley  floor  was 
still  wide  enough  for  the 
mounted  men  to  remain  out 
watching  the  flanks,  which  the 
Wurdi-major  made  good  before 
committing  his  main  body  into 
the  narrow  defiles.  The  sun 
was  already  dipping  towards 
the  Caspian  when  the  column 
and  its  mules  filed  past  the 
fourth  -  class  frontier  customs 
house,  in  which  a  dilapidated, 
down-at-heels  Persian  prince 
kept  innumerable  accounts  and 
filled  up  countless  forms  in 


excellent,  if  bureaucratic, 
French.  The  young  nobleman 
was  on  his  doorstep  under  the 
faded  "  Lion  and  Sun."  A 
pleasant  smile  on  his  engaging 
countenance  and  his  fulsome 
salutations  greeted  the  column. 
No  doubt  he  was  heartily  glad 
to  see  threescore  tough  and 
nubbly,  if  thick-headed,  bayo- 
nets that  would  get  his  land 
out  of  the  mess  that  it  was 
embroiled  in.  "  What  warriors 
we  Persians  would  be  were 
there  no  killing  in  the  matter." 
A  couple  of  miles  beyond 
the  village  the  valley  began 
to  narrow  in.  The  lower  slopes, 
though  grass  -  covered,  were 
too  steep  for  even  the  cat-like 
Kurdish  ponies,  whilst  above 
them  sprang  rocky  scarps  that 
approached  the  perpendicular. 
Spread  over  the  lower  slopes 
was  a  tangle  of  birch  and 
dwarf  cedar,  liberally  laced 
with  boulders  and  precipitous 
side  valleys.  The  mountain 
wall  to  the  right  of  the  column's 
advance  towered  up  in  bare 
yellow  cliffs  to  10,000  feet, 
dividing  the  valley  from  Eus- 
sian  territory,  and  crossed  by 
many  toilsome  smugglers' 
tracks  that  debouched  into 
labyrinthine  side  valleys  open- 
ing on  to  the  line  of  march. 
On  the  other  flank  a  sheer 
wall  of  black  granite  leapt 
stark  and  unbroken  to  nearly 
11,000  feet,  and  over  a  shoulder 
of  this  a  goat-track  led  straight 
down  into  the  valley  of  Ogaz, 
the  hotbed  of  all  the  revolting 
factions,  a  wild  domain  dotted 
with  towers  and  fortified  vil- 


1921.] 


Khudu. 


377 


lages.  One  of  these  was 
Khudu's  battle  headquarters, 
awkwardly  situated  on  the  flank 
of  the  relieving  force,  and  it 
was  in  this  that  Khudu  was 
reported  to  have  a  couple  of 
Schneider-Danglis  Q.-F.  moun- 
tain guns,  a  present  from  his 
Soviet  friends. 

It  now  became  necessary  to 
use  little  picquets  of  foot- 
soldiers  to  guard  the  flanks 
from  surprise,  and,  as  every 
frontier  soldier  knows,  this  is 
a  slow  and  toilsome  business. 
A  couple  of  miles  above  the 
village,  however,  the  leading 
files  came  upon  the  lance-dafa- 
dar  of  the  day  before,  and 
three  or  four  of  his  men, 
ensconced  behind  boulders,  and 
a  moment  later  a  brisk  fusilade 
announced  that  touch  had  been 
obtained  with  the  enemy.  The 
cracking  of  high-velocity  bul- 
lets on  the  rocks  kept  things 
merry  for  a  few  minutes  until 
the  main  body  arrived,  when 
a  short  burst  of  fire  from  it 
induced  the  enemy  to  keep 
their  heads  down. 

In  a  few  minutes  arrange- 
ments were  made  for  the 
wounded  to  be  slung  across 
some  spare  mules  and  started 
off  on  their  way  back  to  head- 
quarters. An  old  Kurd,  the 
most  serious  case,  had  been  hit 
in  seven  places,  and  com- 
mented on  the  fact  in  lurid 
Kurdish  phrases  for  ten  min- 
utes without  repeating  himself. 
One  bullet  had  come  in  at  one 
side  of  his  head  and  out  at  the 
other.  As  he  had  nothing  of 
consequence  inside  it,  perhaps 


he  had  little  to  grumble  about. 
As  for  being  slung  across  a 
mule,  not  having  seen  the 
comfortable  cantilever  -  spring 
Sunbeam  ambulances  of  the 
western  front,  he  did  not  com- 
ment on  their  absence. 

The  lance- dafadar  summed 
up  the  situation  in  a  few 
words,  and  made  it  clear  that 
both  sides  of  the  gorge-like 
valley,  fourteen  miles  long, 
were  lined  with  sangars,  for 
most  of  the  way  at  least,  and 
that  these  were  held  by  two 
or  three  hundred  Kurds  with 
ample  ammunition. 

Here  was  a  brand-new  tac- 
tical problem  to  solve.  Had 
the  enemy  been  Mahsuds  or 
Mohmands,  a  brigade  would 
scarcely  have  sufficed  for  the 
job,  which  might  well  have 
taken  a  week  to  complete. 
Though  the  Kurd  was  an  un- 
known quantity  as  a  fighter, 
the  Wurdi-major  had  made  a 
pretty  shrewd  guess  at  his 
worth,  and  of  the  value  of 
discipline  and  training.  Pic- 
quetting  on  the  standard  fron- 
tier plan  was  clearly  impractic- 
able, both  from  lack  of  men 
and  of  time.  So  he  devised  a 
new  plan.  Sending  his  Lewis 
gun,  with  a  small  escort  of 
riflemen,  up  200  feet  to  the 
top  of  a  small  knoll  on  his 
left,  he  gave  the  Khattak 
youth  that  commanded  it  cer- 
tain instructions.  According 
to  plan,  then,  the  Lewis  gun 
got  into  action,  fired  a  short 
burst  or  two  at  the  flashes  of 
the  rifles  obliquely  across  the 
valley.  The  Kurds  scuttled 


378 


Khudu. 


[Sept. 


away  from  the  unpleasant  nov- 
elty, and  the  column,  its  front 
line  extended  as  much  as  the 
valley  would  allow,  advanced 
from  spur  to  spur  and  from 
knoll  to  knoll,  until  a  fresh 
rattle  of  fire  from  the  enemy 
showed  that  he  had  collected 
for  a  stand  again.  Then  the 
Lewis  gunners  clambered  for- 
ward, and  coming  into  action 
again  on  the  other  side  of  the 
valley,  cleared  the  enemy's 
sangars  once  more.  So  the 
process  was  repeated  all  through 
the  long  July  evening  until 
night  fell,  and  the  panting, 
sweat  -  drenched  men  slept 
where  they  lay  under  cover  of 
the  tumbled  boulders  of  the 
pass.  Sentries  kept  their  watch 
on  the  enemy,  dotted  about 
the  hillsides  100  yards  or  so 
away,  who  sometimes  disclosed 
his  position  by  the  flash  of  a 
rifle  and  the  loud  double  crack 
of  the  Eussian  3-line  or  the 
duller  bang  of  the  old  "  Ber- 
danka  "  with  its  leaden  bullet. 
Now  and  again  a  chance  bullet, 
glancing  off  the  top  of  a 
rounded  boulder,  would  soar 
up  into  the  air  with  the  noise 
of  a  great  bumble-bee. 

The  goat  -  track  that  led 
from  this  valley  over  the  shoul- 
der of  Ak  Kamar  was  a 
source  of  anxiety  to  the  Wurdi- 
major,  who  knew  that  Khudu, 
if  apprised  of  what  was  hap- 
pening, could  bring  over  200 
rifles  from  Ogaz  against  the 
rear  of  the  column.  To  guard 
against  this,  a  small  party 
was  left  to  watch  this  approach, 
and  it  had  been  arranged  to 


support  it  from  the  main  out- 
post headquarters. 

Mghts  are  short  in  July,  and 
before  three  in  the  morning 
it  was  clear  enough  to  see 
and  to  shoot.  The  first  spears 
of  light  from  the  east  were 
the  signal  for  a  burst  of  rifle- 
fire  from  the  insurgents,  and 
a  minute  later  the  sturdy  in- 
fantry, stalwart  Yusafzais,  im- 
petuous Khattaks,  and  stocky 
Mongols  were  clambering  and 
sweating  up  over  the  tumbled 
slopes  of  the  pass.  Their  bayo- 
nets twinkled  in  the  morning 
sun,  and  now  and  again  some 
man  took  a  quick  snap-shot 
at  a  retreating  sheepskin  bon- 
net as  it  showed  amongst  the 
mountain  birch  and  the  juniper, 
the  Lewis  gun  rattled  out  a 
few  disconcerting  rounds,  or  a 
bomber  crawled  up  to  a  sangar 
wall,  Mills  bomb  in  hand  and 
bayonet  man  at  his  side.  The 
Kurd  had  no  stomach  either 
for  the  bomb  or  the  bayonet, 
and  the  deafening  crack  of  the 
Lewis  bullets  splashing  on  the 
rocks  soon  harried  him  out  of 
his  defences. 

The  "  vieux  moustache,"  the 
Yusafzai  havildar,  the  veteran 
of  Neuve  Chapelle,  of  Second 
Ypres,  of  Festubert,  and  of 
Loos,  led  the  bombers,  and  his 
unswerving  and  unhesitating 
"  entrain  "  carried  all  before 
him,  transforming  the  hastily- 
improvised  half-trained  levies 
into  the  semblance  of  regular 
frontier  infantry  by  the  magic 
of  his  example.  The  havildar 
was  none  of  your  supply- dump 
soldiers  or  air-raid  heroes  :  he 


1921.] 


Khudu, 


379 


had  spent  nearly  seven  years 
in  five  theatres  of  war  in  a 
platoon  of  front-line  infantry. 
The  scars  of  bomb,  shrapnel, 
and  of  machine-gun  bullet  were 
his  very  visible  testimonials. 

Now  less  than  a  mile — a  very 
rugged  mile  it  is  true — to  the 
Wurdi-major's  right,  scarcely 
half  an  hour's  scramble  for 
trained  hill  soldiers,  was  the 
Eussian  frontier. 

A  few  miles  away,  down  the 
north  slopes  of  Gulul  Dagh, 
the  frontier  ridge,  in  the  fair 
"  valley  of  turquoises,"  lay 
the  little  hill  -  station  where, 
in  Imperial  times,  the  fair  of 
Turkistan,  pursued  by  the  local 
hill  -  captains,  were  wont  to 
escape  the  torrid  heat  of  the 
Akhal  plain.  Here  some  3000 
ragged  warriors,  the  depraved, 
diseased,  and  degenerate  off- 
spring of  conquering  Seljuk 
hordes,  had  been  conscripted 
by  the  plotting  Soviet,  and 
awaited  an  opportunity  to  in- 
tervene to  Khudu's  aid,  as 
the  Wurdi-major  well  knew. 
Swashbuckling,  looting,  disso- 
lute riff-raff  though  they  were, 
they  were  armed  to  the  teeth 
with  machine  and  modern  Q.-F. 
mountain  guns,  had  Meuport 
and  Sopwith  aeroplanes  within 
easy  call,  were  animated  not 
only  by  fanaticism,  but  by  a 
thirst  for  plunder  in  the  yet 
fat  valleys  of  Khurasan,  and 
were  led  by  a  good  soldier. 
A  captain  in  the  Osmanli  reg- 
ular army,  a  gunner,  he  had 
been  educated  in  Paris,  spoke 
several  languages,  knew  bis 
work,  and  was  imbued  with  a 


genuine  and  admirable  patriot- 
ism for  a  greater  Turkey.  In 
a  word,  a  man  to  be  reckoned 
with. 

In  the  early  afternoon  our 
little  column,  plunged  as  it 
was  between  much  more  num- 
erous forces  of  the  enemy, 
found  itself  still  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  pass,  and  1000  feet 
or  so  down  from  the  summit, 
where  a  little  spring  of  crystal 
water  bubbled  amongst  the 
pine-trees  out  from  a  glinting 
black  rock  face.  Here  the 
weary  men  halted  for  a  while, 
and  munching  the  barley  flap- 
jacks they  had  crammed  into 
their  haversacks  the  evening 
before,  washed  the  meal  down 
with  the  harmless  fluid.  If 
the  fat  sheep  of  a  near-by 
Kurdish  hamlet  did  happen  to 
be  browsing  on  the  succulent 
patches  of  alpine  pasture,  the 
small  sheep-skinned  youth  who 
herded  them  had  certainly  scut- 
tled home  from  the  noise  of 
the  firing.  In  any  case  neither 
regulars  nor  levies  were  vegeta- 
rians, or  had  they  any  tradition 
of  dry-nursing,  or  of  "  waiting 
for  the  (A.S.C.)  waggon,"  or 
of  "  indents  in  quadruplicate  " 
to  be  handed  in  to  fat  and 
impertinent  commissariat  ser- 
geants. The  Wurdi-major's  war 
diary  is  silent  on  the  subject 
of  mutton,  nor  is  he  himself 
prejudiced  in  favour  of  leaving 
anywhere  empty-handed,  or  of 
indulging  in  complicated  de- 
partmental transactions. 

The  top  of  the  pass  was  the 
scene  of  a  more  determined 
stand  by  the  enemy,  and  four 


380 


Khudu. 


[Sept. 


miles  beyond  lay  the  little 
hamlet  of  Namanlu,  embowered 
in  tufted  poplars  and  girdled 
by  tiny  terraced  stone-walled 
fields,  as  it  might  be  the  Alpes 
Maritimes.  This  was  the  head- 
quarters of  the  insurgents  who 
laid  siege  to  Jiristan,  and  from 
it  a  mule-track  branched  to 
the  south  to  the  valley  of 
Ogaz,  by  which  Khudu  brought 
up  his  reinforcements.  It  was 
nearly  midnight  by  the  time 
the  defence  melted  away  before 
the  advance  of  a  line  of  bayo- 
nets, covered  yet  again  by 
the  accurately-laid  Lewis. 

The  night  was  passed  scram- 
bling down  the  slopes  hunting 
Kurds  out  from  crannies  of 
rock,  and  early  dawn  found 
the  column  face  to  face  with 
the  defensive  nest  formed  by 
the  stone  walls  and  loopholed 
buildings  of  Namanlu.  Luck 
favoured  the  attack.  The 
Khattak  youth  who  com- 
manded the  Lewis  gun  judged 
a  range  of  fully  800  yards  to 
a  nicety,  and  a  single  burst 
killed  no  fewer  than  seven 
Kurds,  leading  personalities, 
and  the  backbone  of  the  de- 
fence. The  rest  had  no  stomach 
to  meet  the  rush  of  bayonet- 
eers  and  bombers  that  cleared 
Namanlu,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  mounted  men,  doub- 
ling to  their  ponies,  galloped 
over  the  flat  valley -floor  to 
join  hands  with  the  besieged, 
and,  incidentally,  to  rescue  a 
couple  of  hapless  Polish  re- 
fugees, man  and  wife,  who  had 
exchanged  the  Bolshevik  frying- 
pan  for  the  Kurd  fire.  Before 


the  sun  was  well  up,  no  sign 
remained  of  the  fighting  but 
the  flames  and  smoke  rising 
from  the  thatch  of  Namanlu, 
that  had  caught  fire  in  the 
scuffle,  and  a  neat  row  of 
Kurdish  corpses  laid  out  along 
the  front  of  Jiristan  customs 
post. 

The  revolt  melted  away  in 
a  day  or  two,  and  various 
young  Khans  of  the  Kurds 
came  in  to  explain  naively 
how  they  had  been  led  astray 
by  the  horrid  little  man  Khudu. 
They  further  requested  that 
the  British  should  not  allow 
the  Persian  administration  to 
wreak  their  vengeance  on  them. 
Though  the  Persian  official  of 
to-day  seldom  succeeds  in  bring- 
ing to  heel  any  contumacious 
ruffian  with  arms  in  his  hands, 
he  is  excellent  at  torturing 
and  starving  any  such  that 
may  fall  into  his  clutches. 

Poor  Khudu  fled  south  across 
the  hills  to  his  ancestral  castle, 
there  to  receive  a  message  from 
the  General  Staff  of  the  1st 
Bed  Army  to  the  effect  that 
they  were  dissatisfied  with  the 
results  of  his  operations,  and 
would  he  kindly  return  the 
money  and  arms  that  had  been 
lent  to  him.  Then,  to  cap  all, 
he,  with  the  last  handful  that 
remained  of  the  several  hun- 
dred men  that  a  few  days 
before  had  followed  his  stand- 
ard, was  beleaguered  in  his 
castle.  A  motley  assemblage 
of  Imperial  Persian  artillery 
and  infantry,  mixed  with  a 
Chu-chin-chow  chorus  of  tribal 
levies,  Kurds  not  "  agin  the 


1921.] 


KJiudu. 


381 


Government,"  Timuris  from  the 
Afghan  border,  Hazaras  and 
Jamshedis,  all  on  little  wild 
squealing  stallions,  dressed  in 
long  full  -  skirted  frock  -  coats, 
and  armed  with  every  imagin- 
able sort  of  rifle — Lebel  car- 
bines, Turkish  Mausers, 
Werndls,  Berdans,  Gulf-Mar- 
tinis, Eemingtons,  and,  above 
all,  Eussian  "3 -line"  —  sat 
down,  studiously  out  of  shot, 
around  the  stronghold,  and 
grazed  their  beasts  on  the 
green  corn  of  the  wretched 
villagers. 

Great  hopes  were  centred  in 
the  artillery.  However,  though 
ten  years  before  the  excellent 
little  mountain  guns  of  St 
Etienne  may  have  been  the 
dernier  mot,  yet  a  decade  of 
neglect  and  brutish  ignorance 


from  a  gold-laced  colonel  of 
artillery  does  not  improve  them 
as  weapons.  So,  as  the  Im- 
perial Persian  gunners  flatly 
declined  to  go  within  rifle 
shot  of  the  fortalice,  and  their 
corroded  guns  could  not  range 
as  far  as  the  modern  rifles  of 
Khudu's  men,  something  of  a 
stalemate  resulted.  The  situa- 
tion was  saved  by  the  garrison 
running  short  of  water.  Khudu 
seized  an  opportunity  to  slip 
through  the  cordon  and  get 
into  Eussian  territory. 

The  next  day  his  younger 
brother  Allah  Verdi  was  in 
chains,  and  the  seventeen 
comely  wives,  wenches,  and 
what-nots,  loaded  into  a  four- 
horse  waggon,  were  being  es- 
corted in  the  direction  of  some 
one  else's  "  Andarun." 


382 


[Sept. 


HEATHEE   MIXTUEE. 


BY  KLAXON. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  necessary  economies  and 
reductions  in  the  British  Navy 
after  November  1918  left  a 
considerable  surplus  of  officers 
for  disposal ;  there  were  more 
officers  than  there  were  ap- 
pointments, and  for  some  time 
a  process  of  drafting  and  elimi- 
nation had  to  take  place.  Lieu- 
tenant -  Commander  Eichard 
Fansett,  D.S.O.,  D.S.O.,  was 
one  of  those  who  wished  to 
remain  in  his  chosen  Service, 
and  whose  services  their  Lord- 
ships had  no  desire  to  surrender. 
When  he  came  back  to  Eng- 
land, however,  after  eighteen 
months'  service  in  the  Baltic, 
there  appeared  to  be  little  real 
anxiety  at  Whitehall  over  the 
fact  that  there  was  no  imme- 
diate vacancy  for  him,  and 
that  he  was  automatically  re- 
legated to  "  six  months'  un- 
employed pay."  In  fact,  they 
accepted  the  prospect  of  his 
temporary  loss  quietly,  and  he 
suited  his  own  demeanour  to 
theirs,  and  lost  no  time  in 
slipping  from  the  room  to  the 
echoing  corridors  and  escape. 
He  had  only  reached  England 
that  morning,  and  his  inten- 
tions had  been  to  ask  for  a 
fortnight's  leave  and  another 
appointment ;  the  idea  of  six 
months'  leave  put  a  very  dif- 


ferent complexion  on  things, 
and  he  wanted  to  readjust  his 
ideas  a  little. 

At  the  Whitehall  entrance 
he  paused  and  studied  his  suit- 
case— a  battered  and  well-worn 
article  which  leaned  against 
the  porter's  desk. 

"Goin'  to  take  it  now,  sir? 
Taxi  ?  "  The  ancient  relic  of 
an  earlier  Navy  who  had 
guarded  his  property  was  at 
his  elbow. 

"  No,  thanks,"  said  Dicky. 
(We  may  as  well  get  to  it. 
He  was  "  Dicky  "  to  intimates, 
"  Fansett "  to  others,  and 
"  Lofty  "  to  the  Lower  Deck. 
Now  you  are  introduced.  Why 
was  he  called  "  Lofty  "  ?  I  do 
not  know.)  "  I'll  leave  it  here 
and  call  for  it  this  evening." 

He  passed  out  into  Whitehall 
and  turned  north,  towards  the 
centre  of  civilisation,  to  where 
are  found  the  Goat  Club  and 
Mr  George  Eobey.  (Did  I  men- 
tion he  was  in  plain  clothes  ? 
Well,  he  was,  of  course.  There 
is  an  order  on  the  subject. 
Once  upon  a  time,  before  such 
scientific  refinements  as  sights 
on  cannon  were  introduced,  an 
officer  on  half-pay  presented 
himself  at  the  Admiralty  to 
ask  for  an  appointment.  On 
receiving  the  usual  answer  for 


Copyrighted  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


383 


the  Nth  time  he  retired  to 
Whitehall,  and  after  a  short 
financial  transaction  with  the 
owner  of  the  implement  re- 
quired, did,  to  the  Derogation 
of  Their  Lordships  Honour  and 
the  Corruption  of  Good  Man- 
ners, sweep  the  crossing  oppo- 
site the  Admiralty  windows 
until  called  in  and  placed  on 
full  pay,  he  wearing  at  the 
time  of  his  offence  the  uniform 
of  his  rank.  Hence  the  order 
re  the  wearing  of  plain  clothes 
by  officers  visiting  the  Admir- 
alty. Is  it  true  ?  I  do  not 
know,  but  the  porter  at  the 
Horse  Guards  entrance  might 
know  ;  at  any  rate,  he  would 
tell  you  another  one.) 

London  looked  much  the 
same  as  when  he  had  last  seen 
it ;  there  was  far  less  uniform 
about — in  fact,  hardly  any ; 
dresses  seemed  about  the  same 
length,  but  the  anatomy  ex- 
posed by  their  brevity  seemed 
a  bit  improved.  He  reflected 
that  this  impression  might  be 
due  to  his  having  been  recently 
accustomed  to  the  heifer-like 
charms  of  the  Esthonian  and 
other  races  of  the  Baltic  lit- 
toral, but  decided  that  on  the 
whole  two  out  of  each  ten  of 
the  high-heeled  charmers  that 
passed  his  critical  eye  were 
entitled  to  wear  as  short  skirts 
as  they  chose,  the  rest  not 
being  entitled  to  show  more 
than  their  shoe-laces.  This 
point  settled — and  to  a  man 
who  has  been  away  a  year  and 
a  half  it  is  by  no  means  a 
trifling  detail — he  began  to  re- 
view his  situation  and  consider 
his  plans. 


He  had  wired  his  father  on 
his  arrival  in  ^England*  to  say 
that  he  was  coming  home, 
but  had  given  no  day  on 
which  he  might  be  expected 
beneath  the  parental  roof.  His 
last  news  from  home  had 
told  him  that,  in  view  of  his 
mother's  recent  illness,  his 
family  were  shortly  leaving  to 
winter  abroad,  and  had  ar- 
ranged to  let  their  house.  This 
was  aggravating,  just  as  he  was 
coming  back  and  had  now  to 
idle  for  six  months  ;  but  then 
they  did  not  know,  any  more 
than  he  had  known,  that  six 
months  ashore  was  to  be  his 
fate,  so  he  generously  made  a 
mental  note  that  they  were  not 
to  blame  in  the  matter.  Well, 
he'd  find  something  to  do,  he 
decided,  and  he  had  several 
relations  who  would  put  him 
up  and  who  would  stable  his 
two  horses.  The  horses  !  he'd 
almost  forgotten  them — he  felt 
a  sudden  thrill  of  excitement 
at  the  idea  of  playing  with 
them  again  ;  a  scent  of  leather 
and  lathered  horses  stole  across 
Leicester  Square,  and  he  heard 
faintly  the  drum  of  many  hoofs 
on  the  grass.  The  flicker  of 
memory  passed,  and  he  re- 
flected that  after  all  it  was  yet 
only  August,  and  horses  and 
the  country  could  wait.  He 
was  in  London,  and  on  these 
occasions,  when  returned  from 
far  voyaging,  there  was  only 
one  way  to  enjoy  oneself  at 
first.  He  turned  into  a  theatre 
ticket -office  and  bought  two 
seats  ;  he  could  easily  find  a 
companion  from  the  Club.  Yet, 
perhaps  he  wouldn't  pick  up 


384 


Heather  Mixture. 


Sept. 


a  pal  at  the  Club — that  would 
mean  talking  shop  all  through 
dinner.  He  stood  in  the  door- 
way of  the  office  tapping  a 
cigarette  on  his  knuckles,  and 
looking  out  over  the  moving 
lanes  of  people  that  surged 
past  him.  His  hand  explored 
his  waistcoat  pockets  for  a 
loose  match.  The  match  felt 
unfamiliar  and  he  looked  down 
at  it — he  stared  at  the  thing 
his  fingers  held,  and  his  breath 
drew  in  slowly.  Woodcock's 
pinfeathers  are  not  usually 
kept  long,  but  this  one  had 
had  luck ;  the  suit  he  wore 
had  been  put  away  for  two 
years,  and  this  was  the  result 
— a  feather  transferred  from  a 
shooting-cap,  probably  an  hour 
after  he  had  come  in  from 
covert.  .  .  . 

Dicky  caught  the  5.20  by  a 
matter  of  seconds  —  suit  case 
and  all.  When  he  once  made 
up  his  mind  he  was  accustomed 
to  quick  action,  and  on  this 
occasion  his  mind  was  made  up 
decisively  and  to  his  satisfac- 
tion. Better  a  blank  day  with 
hounds  or  gun  than  a  full 
evening  of  that  petrol-scented, 
overcrowded  barrack  of  wage- 
slaves  known  as  London.  It 
was  true  that  two  excellent 
stalls  would  be  expensively 
empty  in  a  music-hall  that 
night,  but  he  decided  that  he 
had  certainly  saved  money  by 
his  flight. 

The  carriage  was  empty  but 
for  himself  and  his  suit-case. 
He  was  half-way  to  home  now, 
and  an  idea  was  slowly  form- 
ing in  his  brain.  When  at 
home  he  normally  wore  shoot- 


ing or  riding  clothes.  His 
present  habiliments  were  irk- 
some to  him  ;  he  never  wore 
such  things  if  he  could  help  it, 
and  his  soul  thirsted  the  more 
for  the  scent  of  archaic  Harris 
tweeds  as  the  train  rushed 
farther  into  the  depths  of  rural 
England.  He  rose  and  jerked 
the  suit-case  from  under  the 
seat ;  at  any  rate  it  would  not 
take  him  a  minute  to  put  a 
soft  collar  on.  ... 

Suit-cases  packed  by  bache- 
lors in  a  hurry  are  rather  like 
Piccadilly  Tube  Station ;  it's 
all  there  all  right,  but  it  takes 
a  little  time  to  locate  the  plat- 
form you  want.  A  few  miles 
from  the  junction  Dicky 
found  the  collar ;  everything 
else  that  he  found  he  left  on 
the  seats.  As  the  train  steamed 
into  the  junction  he  made  the 
discovery  that  a  framed  map 
of  a  railway  service  makes  a 
poor  looking-glass,  and  that 
even  with  one's  coat  off  it  is 
difficult  to  put  a  soft  collar  on 
when  your  train  is  pulling  up. 
He  waited  patiently  till  the 
bumping  had  ceased,  and  then 
turned  anew  to  his  toilet.  As 
he  did  so,  the  door  opened  and 
a  girl  got  in. 

Dicky  made  a  frantic  effort 
to  fasten  the  collar,  and  failed. 
With  the  loose  end  hanging 
gracefully  on  his  shoulder,  he 
turned  round  and  began  to 
sweep  his  belongings  off  the 
seats,  and  to  stuff  them  into 
his  suit  -  case.  Beneath  his 
breath  he  cursed  all  women 
who  entered  smoking  carriages 
(the  girl  sat  down,  and  a 
brown  riding-boot  and  a  drill- 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


385 


covered  knee  brushed  his  shoul- 
der as  he  packed),  and  all  girls 
who  rode  astride  and  aped 
men's  fashions.  As  the  train 
moved  off,  he  fastened  his 
collar  with  a  savage  effort, 
tied  his  tie  with  a  rapid  flirt 
of  his  fingers,  and  sat  down 
panting.  Opposite  him  and 
beside  the  girl  lay  a  suit  of 
pyjamas :  of  pale-blue  silk, 
ornate — an  extravagance,  cer- 
tainly, but  yet  a  suit  which 
one  notices  with  a  thrill  of 
pride  when  it  is  seen  laid  out 
on  the  bed,  and  one  feels  that 
at  any  rate  in  the  eyes  of  the 
host's  servants  one  has  pre- 
tensions to  gentility.  But  on 
a  railway  carriage  seat  such 
exposure  is  incongruous  before 
strangers  of  the  other  sex. 
Dicky  looked  at  her  for  the 
first  time.  She  was  gazing 
entranced  at  the  passing  corn- 
fields, and  apparently  eating 
the  horse-hair  of  a  Chowri  as 
if  hunger  gnawed  at  her  vitals. 
Dicky  scowled.  Of  course  it 
was  devilish  funny  and  all 
that,  but  the  woman  was  a 
confounded  nuisance,  and  (the 
pyjamas  crushed  into  the  long- 
suffering  suit-case  again)  al- 
though it  was  without  doubt 
better  for  the  horses,  yet  half 
the  women  who  rode  astride 
only  did  it  to  show  off.  Most 
of  them  were  knock-kneed  any- 
how. He  subsided  into  the 
corner  of  the  carriage  farthest 
from  that  occupied  by  the 
intruder,  and  studied  her  cov- 
ertly. The  lady  had  finished 
her  chewing  operations  on  the 
Chowri,  and  was  taking  an 
intelligent  interest  in  the  coun- 

,  CCX, — FO,  MCCLXXI. 


try -side.  Her  face  was  con- 
cealed by  a  big  turned-down 
Panama  hat.  Dicky  at  once 
decided  that  there  were  occa- 
sions, exceptions  perhaps,  when 
masculine  rig  was  not  incom- 
patible with  the  female  form — 
when,  for  instance,  the  rig  was 
a  neat  fit  and  the  wearer  was 
slim  and  well  built.  The  train 
slowed  up  again.  Two  more 
local  stations  and  Dicky  would 
be  home.  The  girl  turned  her 
head  and  spoke  :  "  I'm  sorry 
if  I  disturbed  you — I  thought 
it  was  my  brother  in  here,  and 
I  was  in  a  hurry.  .  .  ." 

Dicky  relegated  his  feelings 
of  outraged  dignity  to  the  rack 

overhead.    "  I — I "  he  said, 

and  then  at  the  sight  of  the 
dimples  at  the  corner  of  the 
girl's  mouth,  he  laughed.  She 
did  not  laugh :  she  turned 
pink,  and,  I  regret  to  say, 
gave  a  suppressed  squawk  (or 
even  perhaps  a  giggle)  as  she 
opened  the  door  and  jumped 
to  the  platform.  Dicky  slid 
along  the  seat  to  watch  her  go. 
She  walked  like  a  boy,  and 
carried  herself  with  the  springy 
action  of  a  three  -  year  -  old 
thoroughbred.  As  the  train 
moved  out,  she  vanished 
through  the  barrier,  and  Dicky 
leaned  back  in  his  seat.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,"  he  said 
clearly  to  the  vacant  space  in 
front  of  him.  "  You're  not 
knock-kneed  and  you  look  clean 
— bless  your  long  legs  .  .  . 
you  oughtn't  to  be  allowed 
skirts."  He  pulled  his  suit- 
case on  to  the  seat,  and  tucked 
some  stray  sections  of  pro- 
truding garments  away  as  the 
0 


386 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Sept. 


train  slowed  up  at  Lanton 
Station. 

The  sight  of  the  familiar 
platform  brought  a  rush  of  new 
thoughts.  The  same  old  por- 
ters were  there,  but  the  station- 
master  was  new.  (Station- 
masters  never  seem  to  take 
root  in  localities  as  other  rail- 
way servants  do.  Perhaps  it  is 
because  they  are  already  mar- 
ried when  they  arrive.)  Dicky 
having  neglected  to  send  a 
wire  from  London,  neither  ex- 
pected nor  found  a  car  to  meet 
him.  He  slung  his  suit-case 
down  before  the  grey-bearded 
porter,  who  had  been  grey- 
bearded  as  long  as  Dicky  could 
remember.  "  Get  it  sent  up 
to-night,  Hasty,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
walking  up." 

He  passed  out  to  the  lane 
at  the  back  of  the  station, 
vaulted  the  stile,  and  walked 
rapidly  across  the  pasture  to 
the  old  gap  in  the  fence  that 
led  into  covert.  It  was  a  fair 
mile  to  the  house,  uphill  all 
the  way,  and  through  the 
plantation  where  the  wood- 
cocks gathered  after  westerly 
gales.  A  rabbit  bounced  away 
down  the  path  before  him, 
and  a  jay  screamed  from  the 
branch  of  a  young  oak  over- 
head. The  scent  of  the  land 
came  back  to  him,  and  a 
mental  twist  made  him  think 
of  the  tang  of  salt  seas  when 
he  had  raced  past  Danzig  in 
northerly  weather — called  back 
to  Eeval  on  the  strength  of 
reports  that  the  Bed  Fleet 
was  coming  out — ice  on  his 
bridge  and  forecastle,  and  the 
sky  to  the  north-east  clouding 
with  snow, 


He  sniffed  in  the  country 
air  appreciatively,  secure  in  the 
feeling  that  if  bitter  weather 
came  in  the  next  half-year  he 
could  stay  indoors  and  sit 
with  his  feet  up  to  the  fire. 
He  thought,  with  a  thrill,  of 
the  English  winter  evenings, 
when  the  leaves  are  off  the 
trees,  when  hounds  patter 
homeward  along  muddy  lanes, 
and  the  guns  gather  round 
the  smoking-room  fire  awhile 
before  going  upstairs  to  change. 
Assuredly,  England  was  the 
right  place  in  winter -time. 
Summer  was  a  time  for  tennis, 
tea,  and  girls,  and  he  hated 
the  months  from  May  to  August 
as  being  useless  and  unneces- 
sary. A  winding  path  through 
rhododendrons  led  him  into 
the  drive,  and  a  minute  later 
his  voice  echoed  in  the  hall  in 
a  long  view-halloo. 

"  Well,  they  didn't  have  such 
a  thing  as  Unemployed  Pay  in 
my  day,"  said  his  father,  lean- 
ing back  in  the  big  library 
chair.  "  It  used  to  be  half- 
pay  or  nothing.  But  you'll 
just  have  to  amuse  yourself 
over  at  Westleigh  as  best  you 
can.  Your  Uncle  Jim  will  put 
you  up  indefinitely,  and  look 
after  your  horses  too.  They're 
just  coming  up  from  grass 
now,  and  I  told  him  if  you 
didn't  get  back  this  season  he 
could  use  them  himself.  He's 
only  got  three  of  his  own  now, 
and  your  cousin  Ann  gets  all 
she  can  out  of  those.  We're 
leaving  on  the  14th,  and  we're 
going  to  leave  this  place  shut 
up— can't  afford  to  keep  ser« 
vanta  here  doing  nothing, 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


387 


You'll  have  to  move  over  to 
Westleigh  before  we  go.  You'll 
find  something  to  do  in  get- 
ting the  horses  ready  for 
hunting — what  is  it,  my  dear 
—eh?" 

"  I  only  thought,  Will,"  said 
Mrs  Fansett,  knitting  two  stit- 
ches to  each  word,  "  that  Dicky 
might  like  to  go  to  Westleigh 
to-morrow  just  to  look  round 
and  say  he's  arrived." 

Dicky  grunted.  "  Why, 
Mum  ?  They'll  see  lots  of 
me  for  the  next  few  months. 
The  horses  are  down  here, 
aren't  they  ?  " 

"  No,  dear — they  went  up 
there  to-day." 

"  Oh,  well,  there's  lots  of 
time  to  attend  to  them.  I 
suppose  there's  only  Uncle  and 
Aunt  and  Ann  there  ?  " 

"  Oh  no  !  They've  got  quite 
a  party  there :  two  school 
friends  of  Ann's,  and  the 
brother  of  one  of  them.  Very 
nice  people ;  they  were  here 
to  tea  yesterday." 

Dicky  caught  the  suspicion 
of  a  smile  hovering  under  his 
father's  moustache,  and  in- 
stantly flashed  into  suspicion. 
"  What  are  the  girls  like,  and 
what's  the  brother  like  ?  " 

"  The  brother  f  He's  about 
five-and-twenty,  I  should  say, 
dear.  The  younger  girl  is  his 
sister,  and  the  other  is  a 
very  homely,  pleasant  girl,  I 
thought." 

"  I  see.  So  it's  the  young 
one,  is  it  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my 
dear  ?  The  younger  one  is 
very  nice,  I  think.  She's  very 
pretty,  too.  ..." 

"  Mmph  !      Your    ideas    of 


looks  aren't  mine.  I  don't 
think  any  woman's  a  judge 
of  looks—do  you,  Dad  ?  " 

"  My  boy,  I  chose  your 
mother.  Since  then  I've  not 
had  cause  to  employ  my  talents 
that  way." 

"  Coward  !  You  know  quite 
well  you  look  at  all  the  good- 
looking  ones  you  meet ;  I 
admit  you  were  a  judge  when 
you  chose  Mum,  but  you  lost 
your  judgment  after  that." 

He  turned  to  his  mother 
again.  "  Is  this  paragon  good 
to  her  mother  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  she  is,  Dicky — 
she's  quite  a  good  girl." 

"  Then  she's  obviously  plain. 
You're  always  making  that 
the  excuse  for  some  girl  with 
a  face  like  a  sea-boot — that 
she's  good  to  her  mother.  Well, 
it's  no  good,  Mum — I'm  not 
going  to  marry  her." 

"  Now,  Dicky,  don't  be  silly. 
Nobody's  asking  you  to  marry 
any  one.  You're  too  young 
to  be  married  just  yet ;  but 
it's  good  for  you  to  meet  nice 
girls  who  can  talk  nicely  to 
you  and  keep  you  from  being 
a  sort  of  savage.  You  mustn't 
shun  these  young  people  you 
meet.  I'd  be  very  glad,  though, 
to  hear  you  were  going  to 
marry  some  nice  girl  that  I 
approved  of." 

"  There  you  go  again  !  Cheer 
up,  Mum — I'll  bring  you  home 
a  lovely  peroxide  barmaid  one 
day.  But  never  mind  West- 
leigh visitors ;  I'll  see  all  I 
want  to  of  them,  I  expect. 
Tell  me  all  about  where  you're 
going,  and  how  long  you'll  be 
away,  and  all  the  family  news 
and  everything.  I've  got  to 


388 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Sept. 


hear  eighteen  months'  news  in 
a  week,  and  then  you're  off 
again.  Why,  I  may  have 
married  the  barmaid  before 
you  get  back.  ..." 

"  Never  mind  about  our 
news,  my  son.  Tell  your 
mother  about  the  Baltic.  We 
want  to  know  what  the  Kron- 
stadt  attack  was  like,  for  one 
thing." 

"That  show?  Just  the 
finest  bit  of  work  any  Navy 
ever  did,  and  finer  than  Zee- 
brugge  even.  I  was  off  Biorko, 
waiting  for  the  boats  to  come 
back,  and  when  daylight  came 
and  nothing  appeared,  we 
thought  it  was  all  UP  ;  then 
they  began  to  limp  home — 
those  that  did  come  back — 
coughing  along  on  one  engine 
mostly.  The  chief  thing  I  re- 
member is  the  feeling  that 
those  men  had  been  right 
round  Kronstadt  harbour,  and 
yet  their  faces  looked  just 
ordinary  as  they  looked  up  at 
us,  watching  them  come  along- 
side. You  know — like  that 
sword  on  the  wall  there — you 
know  it  was  used  at  Culloden, 
and  yet  it  looks  quite  ordinary 


— same  as  those  people's  faces, 
— the  artificers  looked  just  like 
the  usual  '  tiffy  '  does  when  he 
leans  out  of  an  engine-room 
hatch,  and  yet  they'd  been 
through  a  bigger  show  than  the 
six  hundred  had  at  Balaklava." 

"  Go  on — tell  about  the  rest 
of  the  time." 

"  Just  blockade — that's  all ; 
and  that's  what  most  naval 
war  is  now — waiting  for  some- 
thing to  turn  up.  Now,  family, 
if  you  won't  give  me  your  news, 
I'm  for  bed.  I've  been  up 
early  to-day.  I'll  get  all  the 
local  news  and  scandals  out  of 
you  to-morrow.  ..." 

Half  an  hour  later  Dicky 
switched  his  light  off  and  settled 
down  to  his  pillow — a  pillow 
which  he  had  carefully  rolled 
into  a  ball  of  about  the  con- 
sistency of  a  sandbag,  in  order 
to  correct  its  unaccustomed 
softness.  He  saw  a  swift  men- 
tal panorama  of  his  day's 
doings  pass — and  the  panorama 
checked  at  a  slim  figure  walk- 
ing along  Westleigh  platform  ; 
she  turned  as  she  passed  through 
the  barrier,  and  a  moment  later 
Dicky  smiled  in  his  sleep. 


CHAPTER  n. 


Dicky  arrived  in  the  dining- 
room  a  full  twenty  minutes 
late  for  breakfast,  and  greeted 
his  parents  in  a  subdued  voice. 
His  late  appearance  was  only 
in  accordance  with  custom, 
and  the  modern  domestic  rule 
that  sons  are  always  allowed 
to  be  late  for  breakfast  (daugh- 
ters, by  the  way,  seem  to  be 


expected  to  be  more  punctual 
—  perhaps  because  charity 
never  really  begins  at  home). 
He  made  a  selection  from  the 
sideboard  of  everything  there, 
mixing  kedgeree  and  bacon 
and  eggs  together  by  way  of 
experiment  and  research,^ sat 
down  at  the  table,  and  started 
in  to  work  through  about  three- 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


389 


quarters  of  a  pound  of  solids 
and  a  pint  of  coffee.  His 
mother  beamed  at  him,  being 
of  the  opinion  that  only  a 
tendency  in  sons  to  overeat 
could  be  accepted  as  a  sure 
sign  of  their  healthy  condition. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  mightn't 
be  feeling  very  strong,  dear,  as 
you  were  so  quiet  when  you 
came  in.  But  you  seem  to  be 
ready  for  breakfast." 

Dicky  paused  before  reply- 
ing. A  mixture  of  peppery 
kedgeree  and  hot  poached  egg 
was  at  the  moment  on  passage 
to  its  natural  haven.  "  Quiet  ? 
Well,  I'm  not  used  to  the  land 
yet,  you  see.  In  a  lot  of  Ward- 
rooms they  have  a  notice  stuck 
up — it  comes  from  Proverbs 
or  Ecclesiastes  or  somewhere — 
'  He  who  rising  up  early  in  the 
morning,  blesseth  his  neighbour 
in  a  loud  voice,  it  shall  be 
accounted  a  curse  unto  him.' 
Very  good  rule  when  you've 
had  the  middle  watch.  Any 
more  coffee  in  the  pot  ?  Hullo  ! 
here's  some  letters  for  me.  .  .  ." 

He  ceased  eating  operations 
for  a  moment  to  tear  open  a 
couple  of  envelopes.  "  Bills  ! 
Bills  !  Lord — what  a  life  it 
is !  My  debts  will  be  more 
than  I  can  bear — all  right, 
Mum,  don't  scream  ;  they  come 
to  seven-and-six,  between  the 
two — both  for  harness  repairs. 
I'm  solvent  yet.  But  what's 
this  one  t  " 

He  opened  a  third  letter,  and 
as  he  read  he  leaned  back  in 
his  chair,  and  his  face  became 
thoughtful.  He  read  slowly, 
then  passed  the  letter  to  his 
father,  and  continued  his  meal. 


"  Well,  Dad.     Shall  I  go  ?  " 

His  father  passed  the  letter 
back.  "  Show  it  to  your 
mother,"  he  said.  "  I  think 
as  there's  not  much  for  you 
to  do  here  till  September,  you'd 
better  accept.  You've  never 
done  any  grouse-shooting,  have 
you  ?  " 

"  Never  ;  at  least,  not  driven 
grouse.  What's  your  friend 
Hansard  like  t  " 

"  Well,  he's  a  lawyer-poli- 
tician. I  like  him,  from  what  I 
know  of  him,  but  our  dealings 
have  been  mostly  official.  I 
told  him  in  the  Club  last  week 
you  were  coming  back  soon, 
and  he  asked  if  you  were  fond 
of  shooting.  Of  course,  he 
has  daughters,  and  that  may 
have  something  to  do  with  it." 

"  Oh,  Dicky,  you  must  be 
careful. — What  are  they  like  ? 
Have  they  got  a  mother  ?  " 

Dicky  chuckled.  "  You've 
hit  the  hurdle  that  time,  Dad, 
but  I'm  bullet-proof,  and  I'm 
full  of  pluck ;  I  shall  go  and 
I'll  risk  the  daughters.  What 
about  the  grouse  ?  Has  he 
got  a  good  moor  f  " 

"  Pretty  fair,  yes  ;  I  haven't 
heard  what  sort  of  a  season 
they  expect  this  time,  but 
you  should  get  eight  hundred 
brace  in  the  week,  I  think.  As 
you  haven't  shot  grouse  before, 
I  suggest  you  had  better  spend 
a  day  out  by  Hendon  having 
some  clay  birds  thrown  at  you. 
It  won't  teach  you  how  to  shoot 
fast  grouse — only  the  birds 
themselves  can  teach  you  that 
— but  it  will  keep  you  from 
making  a  fool  of  yourself  before 
strangers.  You're  a  fair  shot 


390 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Sept. 


at  game  generally,  but  you'll 
find  driven  grouse  different  from 
partridges  and  pheasants." 

"  Well,  I  read  somewhere 
that  partridges  were  faster  than 
grouse.  I  don't  think  I'll  dis- 
grace the  family.  But  I'll  take 
half  a  day  at  Hendon  all  the 
same,  if  it's  only  to  get  used 
to  a  gun  again.  We  had 
mighty  little  chance  of  shoot- 
ing at  Eeval,  and  my  blisters 
are  all  in  the  wrong  place.  No 
more  coffee  ?  No,  never  mind 
— I  don't  want  any  now.  I'm 
going  to  see  my  cannon  ready 
and  muster  cartridges.  Have 
you  got  plenty,  Dad  ?  I'm 
short,  and  there  won't  be  much 
time  to  order  more,  and  yours 
don't  cost  me  anything.  ..." 

"  In  certain  ways,  Eichard, 
you  show  financial  sense,  but 
your  economies  usually  cost  me 
something.  You'll  find  the 
Number  Sevens  in  the  cupboard 
in  the  smoking-room.  You 
had  better  wire  an  answer  to 
that  letter,  and  write  to  West- 
leigh  and  tell  them  your  plans 
as  far  as  you  know  them." 

Dicky  started  for  Hendon 
f  eeling  prepared  to  demonstrate 
to  any  spectator  that  as  a  shot 
he  was  certainly  above  the 
average.  His  confidence  evap- 
orated a  little  as  the  taxi 
turned  into  the  Edgware  Eoad  ; 
these  shooting  -  school  people 
were  so  damned  experienced 
in  this  sort  of  thing.  They 
must  have  seen  so  many  thou- 
sands of  shots  fired,  and,  of 
course,  they  were  accustomed 
to  seeing  the  best  shots  in  Eng- 
land perform.  The  taxi  stopped 


at  a  little  wooden  building  in 
a  large  grass-field,  and  Dicky 
descended.  A  stocky  brown- 
faced  man  greeted  him  quietly, 
and  gently  dispossessed  him  of 
his  gun.  An  assistant  appeared, 
and  in  two  minutes  Dicky 
found  himself  being  led  towards 
a  collection  of  tall  towers  and 
low  screens  in  the  middle  of 
the  field.  The  expert  carried 
one  gun,  the  assistant  the  other 
and  two  bags  of  cartridges. 
Dicky  followed — silent,  and  feel- 
ing like  a  worm.  At  a  distance 
of  thirty  paces  from  one  of 
the  screens  the  leaders  halted, 
the  armament  was  placed 
against  a  bench,  and  the  assist- 
ant vanished  behind  the  screen. 
Dicky  felt  it  was  time  to  say 
something. 

"  I  don't  really  want  both 
guns,  as  I  won't  be  using  more 
than  one,  but " 

"  One  gun  will  get  unpleas- 
antly hot,  sir.  I  think  two 
will  be  more  useful  to-day — I 
think  you  mentioned  grouse  in 
your  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  what  I " 

A  gun  was  opened,  closed, 
opened,  loaded  and  closed  in 
a  fraction  of  time.  It  arrived 
suddenly  in  Dicky's  hands,  and 
the  expert  slipped  into  position 
to  his  right  rear.  "  Eight, 
Jim." 

Click  !  A  black  dot  whipped 
past,  six  feet  overhead ;  Dicky 
ducked,  and  instantly  felt  like 
a  fool.  Click — another  shot 
away  twenty  yards  to  his  left. 
Dicky  jerked  his  gun  up  and 
fired — once — twice.  The  disc 
sailed  on  unperturbed  to  dive 
into  the  long  grass  behind.  As 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


391 


the  gun  opened  two  cartridges 
came  over  Dicky's  right  elbow 
and  slipped  into  the  breech. 
A  clay  bird  sailed  over  high 
to  the  right,  and  was  neatly 
smashed  by  the  first  barrel. 
Again  came  the  swift  reloading, 
and  as  the  gun  closed  another 
rapidly  enlarging  dot  appeared 
coming  close  overhead.  A  snap- 
shot in  front  failed,  and  the 
second  barrel  very  naturally 
missed  at  about  six  feet  dis- 
tance in  the  vertical  line.  The 
expert  spoke  for  the  first  time. 

"  You  have  not  shot  many 
driven  grouse  ?  " 

"  No,  I've  never  shot  one 
yet." 

"  I  see.  Now  I'll  send  clay 
birds  past  you  thirty  feet  to 
either  side  to  begin  with,  and 
when  you're  sure  of  those  we'll 
give  you  some  straight  shots." 

He  made  a  sign  to  the  con- 
cealed assistant,  and  as  fast 
as  the  gun  could  be  loaded  and 
fired  the  drive  began.  At  each 
shot  that  missed  the  expert 
spoke :  "A  foot  high  ;  well 
behind  ;  you  must  swing  more  ; 
a  foot  high  ;  just  touched  him  ; 
in  the  beak ;  swing  quicker, 
you're  behind  ;  that's  better  ; 
that's  better  ;  cease  fire." 

Dicky  received  the  other 
gun,  and  handed  back  the  hot 
one  he  had  used.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  can  see  that 
shot  in  the  air  ?  "  he  said 
incredulously. 

"  I  see  it  every  time.  If  I 
did  not  I  could  only  instruct 
by  guesswork." 

"  I  can't  see  it  at  all." 

"  I  was  here  three  years 
before  I  could.  Now,  sir,  your 


guns  fit  you  quite  well,  and 
you  have  evidently  done  a  good 
deal  of  shooting  before,  so  I 
shall  not  correct  you  on  those 
lines." 

"  Well,  yes "  said  Dicky, 

bashfully.  "I've  done  a  good 
deal  of  shooting  since  I  was  a 
boy." 

"So  I  see ;  and  so  it  is  too 
late  to  try  to  correct  your 
faults  in  style.  They  are  not, 
however,  really  bad  ones.  If 
you  are  ready  we  will  try  some 
straight  shots.  Take  them 
early  and  quickly,  and  cover 
the  bird  with  the  muzzle.  Do 
not  delay  or  try  to  consciously 
swing.  Bight— Jim." 

Instantly  a  clay  pigeon  was 
hurled  at  Dicky's  cap,  closely 
followed,  to  his  astonishment, 
by  another.  He  missed  both 
— ("  Three  feet  behind  ").  Out 
came  two  more  —  bang  ! 
("under")  bang !  ("good"). 
In  a  steady  succession  of  singles 
and  doubles  they  came  flicker- 
ing over  or  a  few  feet  to  each 
side  of  him,  their  passage  punc- 
tuated by  the  reports  of  his  gun 
and  the  quiet  comments  from 
behind  him.  Once  a  bird 
passed  some  five  yards  off,  and 
Dicky,  missing  with  his  first 
barrel,  half -turned  to  deal  with 
it  from  the  flank.  A  hand  on 
his  shoulder  checked  him,  and 
a  voice  in  his  ear  let  fall  an 
axiom.  "  When  they  come 
thick,  take  'em  all  in  front — 
don't  turn  round."  Gradually 
the  hypnotism  of  the  unhurried 
voice  won  over  the  shooter's 
mind  and  muscle.  "  You're 
poking  at  them — poking  at 
them — don't  check  when  you 


392 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Sept. 


fire."  Dicky  suddenly  found 
that  a  succession  of  birds  were 
all  flying  to  dust  as  his  gun 
went  up.  He  settled  to  the 
work  keenly  now,  leaning  a 
little  forward,  and  taking  the 
clays  well  out  in  front  and 
allowing  them  no  law.  A  run 
of  twelve  clean  kills  coincided 
with  a  sudden  discovery  that 
his  barrels  were  burning  his 
left  hand,  and  at  that  moment 
his  gun  was  gently  taken  from 
him. 

Dicky's  heart  warmed  to 
everybody,  including  the  dis- 
tant but  interested  taxi-driver. 
"  By  Gum  !  this  is  quite  hot 
stuff,"  he  said.  "  Is  there 
anything  else  I  can  practice  at, 
just  to  warm  up  a  bit  ?  " 

"  To  warm  up,  sir  ?  Yes,  I 
think  if  you  have  a  few  fast 
pheasants  at  about  ninety  feet 
up  you  might  get  some  amuse- 
ment. (Jim  !  Up  the  tower 
— three  traps.")  Now  we'll 
stand  close  up  so  as  to  make 
'em  faster,  and  we'll  work  two 
guns.  They'll  be  cool  by  the 
time  he's  ready." 

Five  minutes  later  Dicky 
was  in  a  fair  imitation  of  a 
really  hot  corner  with  pheas- 
ants. The  birds  shot  out  over- 
head in  an  erratic  stream.  The 
guns  passed  from  hand  to 
hand  with  perfect  ease,  and 
at  extraordinary  speed.  The 
expert  was,  in  all  probability, 
the  best  and  swiftest  loader  in 
England,  but  yet  his  eyes 
never  seemed  to  leave  the 
birds  as  they  came,  and  his 
quiet  voice  never  ceased : 
"  Good  ;  good  ;  far  back  ;  left ; 
left  a  little ;  ease  your  left 


hand  ;  good,  tailed  him  ;  the 
dog'll  get  him  ;  good,  in  the 
beak ;  one  pellet,  he's  a  run- 
ner  "  The  heat  of  his 

barrels  slowed  Dicky  up,  and 
he  panted  a  little  as  he  paused 
in  his  firing. 

"  Satisfied,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  the  real  thing. 
I  feel  like  shooting  some  game 
now." 

"  Yes,  you  have  confidence 
now,  but  you  must  remember 
that  as  far  as  driven  grouse 
go,  you  have  learnt  very  little 
to-day.  You  must  get  your 
confidence  in  the  butts  against 
real  game,  and  till  you  do  that 
you  will  not  shoot  well.  I 
would  suggest  that  you  begin 
by  taking  the  easiest  shots  in 
your  first  drive,  and  not  dis- 
courage yourself  by  trying  diffi- 
cult ones." 

"  I  know ;  I  always  feel 
happier  when  the  first  pheasant 
that  I  meet  in  the  day  is  an 
easy  one.  I  get  a  better  opinion 
of  myself.  Is  there  any  special 
rule  I  should  remember  for 
driven  grouse  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  rule  or  short 
cut  to  shooting  driven  grouse." 
(Then  came  the  cryptic  remark 
Dicky's  father  had  used.)  "  The 
grouse  will  teach  you  every- 
thing, if  you  help  them." 

The  taxi  ground  out  through 
the  gateway,  and  Dicky  lit  a 
cigarette  and  leaned  back.  He 
was  a  little  aghast  at  the  cold- 
blooded competence  that  he 
was  leaving.  He  himself  had 
fired  two  hundred  and  fifty 
cartridges  that  afternoon,  and 
had  received  a  word  of  advice 
or  correction  on  practically 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


393 


every  shot.  The  figures  he 
had  seen  on  the  wall  of  the 
wooden  hut  showed  that  on 
some  days  a  single  gun  had 
fired  a  thousand  cartridges  (as 
much  as  he  himself  hoped  to 
fire  in  a  season),  and  the  totals 
for  the  school  ran  into  millions 
of  rounds.  It  began  to  dawn 
on  Dicky  that  some  people 
took  their  shooting  seriously. 

The  taxi  drew  up  at  the 
hotel,  and  he  alighted  and  un- 
packed his  guns.  To-day  was 
the  9th  of  August ;  he  in- 
tended to  remain  in  town  to 
see  his  parents  (who  were  arriv- 
ing on  the  morrow),  and  to 
travel  north  on  the  eleventh. 
His  first  action  was  to  carry 
his  guns  upstairs  and  clean 
them.  They  had  been  already 
cleaned  at  the  shooting-school, 
but  he  had  been  brought  up 
under  the  rule  of  "  Clean  your 
own  weapons  and  see  your 
own  horse  fed,"  and  he  did 
(in  spite  of  his  happy-go-lucky 
nature)  rigidly  obey  some  rules. 
He  then  walked  out  to  visit 
his  club  and  look  for  company. 

In  the  crowded  smoking- 
room  he  found  several  friends 
and  a  multitude  of  acquaint- 
ances (acquaintances  of  the 
degree  of  intimacy  that  im- 
plies your  saying  at  once  to 
them,  "  Hullo — old  bird  !  What 
ship  are  you  in  now  ?  "  because 
you  have  forgotten  their  names, 
and  hope  to  get  a  glance  at  the 
Navy  List  before  you  leave  the 
room).  He  surrounded  two 
Martinis,  and  was  then  drawn 
down  to  a  sofa  by  an  old  ship- 
mate, one  Granard — a  hard 
case,  and  a  useful  associate  in 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXI. 


foul  weather  ashore  or  afloat. 
"  Waiter,  two  Martinis.  Dicky, 
my  lad,  what  are  you  doing 
to-night  t  " 

"  Nothing.  I  came  here  to 
find  help  in  doing  it." 

"  Good  ;  I  will  cut  you  for 
seats  at  the  Umporium.  I 
shall  pay  for  dinner,  as  I 
have  already  ordered  it,  and 
my  companion — the  fairest  of 
all  her  sex,  curse  her — has 
failed  me,  and  they'll  charge 
me  for  what  I  ordered,  any- 
how." 

"  My  heart  bleeds  for  you," 
said  Dicky.  "  It's  a  head." 

"  It's  a  tail.  Bleed  for  your- 
self, and  go  and  order  the 
tickets.  No,  here  you  are. 
Waiter !  order  two  stalls  for 
the  Umporium  to-night,  and 
bring  two  Martinis." 

"  Basher,"  said  Dicky  warn- 
mgly>  "  you're  laying  the  keel- 
plate." 

"I'm  not,"  replied  Granard 
earnestly.  "I'm  trying  to  for- 
get. I  have  loved,  I  love  not ; 
as  for  keel-plates,  I  am  only 
putting  things  on  a  basis." 

"  Well,  so  long  as  it's  not  too 
broad.  How  long  had  you 
known  this  long-haired  pal  ?  " 

"  Since  yesterday,  but  it 
has " 

"  Were  your  motives  wholly 
pure  1  " 

"  I  shall  never  know  now — 
at  least,  as  she  has  left  me  for 
another,  I  can  say  that  they 
are.  That  is Waiter  !  " 

"  No,  you  don't,"  said  Dicky, 
jerking  him  to  his  feet.  "  Come 
and  shift.  You  can  have  your 
next  with  the  oysters." 

Three-quarters  of  an  hour 
o  2 


394 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Sept. 


later,  Granard  had  it ;  he  set 
his  glass  down  with  a  sigh  of 
content,  and  beckoned  to  the 
stout  nobleman  with  the  wine- 
list  who  stood  watching  them 
with  a  benevolent  air.  "  Mon 
prince,"  he  said,  "  you  recollect 
the  champagne  I  ordered  for 
this  meal  ?  " 

"  But,  assuredly,  sir — yes. 
It  is  this  moment  coming." 

"  Blockade  it — mine  it  in, 
and  return  it  to  store.  It 
was,  between  you  and  me  as 
men  of  the  world,  ordered  for 
a  lady.  The  sex  of  my  guest 
has  changed.  You  take  me  f  " 

"  Without  doubt,  sir.  May 
I  recommend  this  '72,  sir.  A 
very  good  and  a  dry  wine." 

"  I  agree,  and  would  beg 
you  to  hasten  it  that  I  may 
forget  its  price.  Now,  Eichard, 
you  ugly  prize-fighter,  are  you 
going  for  the  middleweights 
again  next  year." 

"  I  hope  so — if  I'm  not 
abroad  or  away  from  a  chance 
of  training.  Did  you  go  up  for 
the  heavies  this  year  ?  " 

"Dicky,  I  did.  My  first 
appearance  in  Service  Boxing. 
Hardly  had  I  taken  stock  of 
my  opponent  when  he  struck 
me — he,  a  great  hulking  sol- 
dier of  the  brutal  type.  Not 
being  in  a  suitable  attitude  at 
the  moment  to  receive  the 
blessing,  I  took  the  mat.  My 
only  bright  thought  as  I  fell 
was  that  my  exhibition  had  not 
incommoded  the  management 
or  their  programme  to  any 
extent,  they  being  behind 
time."} 

"  Poor  old  bean — are  you 
going  to  try  again  ?  " 


"  I  doubt  it.  It's  all  very 
well  for  you  regulars  that 
win  these  shows,  but  do  you 
realise  that  you  climb  to  fame 
on  the  sweat  and  tears  of  such 
as  me,  who  train  three  blink- 
ing months  to  make  a  Eoman 
holiday,  a  try-your-strength- 
and-get-your-penny  back  for 
such  as  you  ?  No,  a  thousand 
times,  no !  Pass  the  bottle — 
don't  Jet  it  go  flat." 

Dicky  obliged,  and  seized 
the  resulting  preoccupation  of 
his  host  as  a  chance  to  get 
something  to  eat.  Twenty 
feet  away  from  him  a  band  of 
mixed  colour  and  musical  skill 
made  a  joyful  noise.  The  faces 
of  the  assembled  diners,  how- 
ever, wore  that  look  of  dys- 
peptic gloom  which  makes  the 
English  so  impressive  when 
either  indulging  in  gaiety  or 
serving  on  juries. 

His  eye  was  caught  by  some- 
thing that  made  him  frown, 
and  he  interrupted  Granard's 
next  bright  remark  with 
"  D'you  see  that  girl,  behind 
the  fat  man — that  half-covered 
kid*  " 

"I  do,  Dicky.  She  is  a 
comely  wench,  and  she  can 
share  my  door-mat  any  time, 
if  she  likes." 

"Well,  look  at  the  black 
drummer  staring  at  her — filthy 
idea,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  see  what  you  mean. 
You're  going  up  on  the  stage 
to  lay  him  out,  are  you  ? 
I'm  with  you — all  the  way  to 
the  police  station,  laddie." 

"  No ;  it's  not  worth  it. 
The  girl  might  be  engaged  to 
him,  anyway." 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


395 


Granard  studied  Dicky's  face 
carefully  for  a  few  minutes. 
"  My  young  Galahad,"  he  said, 
"  I  am  a  little  puzzled.  A 
modicum  of  this  excellent  but 
expensive  beer  has  made  you 
cynical  instead  of  gay.  Who 
did  you  meet  in  the  hay-fields 
that  you  feel  like  this  about 
London  ?  " 

Dicky  neatly  possessed  him- 
self of  the  bottle.  "Nobody 
at  all.  I  was  just  wishing  for 
a  moment  this  country  was 
Bolshy.  Half  these  people  are 
doing  what  they  can  to  tease 
and  play  with  the  idea  just 
for  fun.  It  isn't  safe.  I'm  for 
watching  the  chorus  drill  and 
the  stars  dance.  My  pessimism 
has  departed,  and  I  want  to 
look  at  George  Eobey's  right 
eyebrow  again.  D'you  know, 
Basher,  it's  a  beautiful 
thing.  .  .  ." 

They  left  the  Umporium  at 
eleven,  and  called  in  at  Leicester 
Square  Station  to  collect  Gran- 
ard's  golf  clubs,  which  had 
apparently  been  there  a  week, 
and  which  the  owner  had  just 
remembered.  The  thought  that 
the  old  days  were  over  and 
that  this  should,  by  modern 
rules,  finish  their  evening, 
caused  them  a  certain  despon- 
dency as  they  walked  down 
towards  the  Club,  but  just 
then  Granard  received  an  in- 
spiration. 

"  Dicky,  my  lad,"  he  said, 
stopping  suddenly  and  swing- 
ing the  heel  of  the  golf  bag 
into  the  centre  of  gravity  of 
a  passing  stranger — a  large 
and  dignified  gentleman  who 
may  have  been  a  railway  mag- 


nate or  a  butler — "  I  have  it. 
You  shall  not  go  without  your 
nightcap,  your  stoup  of  Malm- 
sey. I  know  a  night-club,  a 
good  night  -  club — where  no- 
body says  good-night.  What 
is  it,  my  dear  man  ? — you're 
making  such  a  noise  in  my  ear 
I  feel  quite  deaf.  What  is 
it?  " 

The  large  stranger  spluttered. 
"  Confound  you,  sir.  Clumsy 
— prodding  me  with  your  damn 
weapons ;  d'you  know  me — 
who  I  am,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  do.  You're  Lenin.  We 
were  at  school  together.  Let 
me  introduce  you  to " 

"  Don't  play  the  fool — who 
are  you  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Pollen,  and  I 
won  the  Battle  of  Jutland. 
Do  you  play  golf  ?  Come  on — 
take  a  club  and  play  round 
Leicester  Square." 

A  surge  of  people  leaving  a 
theatre  separated  him  from  his 
adversary.  "  Just  as  I  was 
beginning  to  like  his  face  too." 
Dicky  and  he  linked  arms  and 
proceeded.  Granard  turned  up 
Shaftesbury  Avenue. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  I'm  not 
a  member  of  this  club,  but 
Jervis  is — you  know  him — he's 
in  my  packet — and  he  told  me 
he'd  only  been  there  once  since 
he  joined.  I'll  give  his  name, 
and  we'll  get  a  couple  of  hauf 
yins  and  leave.  Here  we  are. 
(He  rang  a  bell.)  Open,  Whats- 
isname  !  " 

The  door  opened  and  the  two 
stepped  in.  "  What  name, 
please  ?  "  asked  a  suave  porter. 

"  Jervis — Lieutenant  C.  Jer- 
vis of  H.M.S.  Valiant" 


396 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Sept. 


"  Yes,  sir,  if  you  will  come 
this  way " 

Granard  winked  at  Dicky, 
and  they  shed  their  coats  and 
golf  clubs  into  the  porter's 
arms.  "  Are  you  going  to  the 
dance-room,  gentlemen  t  " 

"  Well,  no — as  a  matter  of 
fact  we  called  in  just  to  get  a 
drink.  Can  we  get  two  whiskies 
and  soda  now  1  " 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  it's  rather 
late ;  but  if  you'll  step  into 
the  smoking-room  here,  I'll  see 
what  I  can  do.  Lieutenant 
Jervis  you  said,  sir  ?  " 

"  That's  it — Lieutenant  Jer- 
vis." Granard  winked  again 
at  Dicky  as  the  porter  slid  from 
the  room.  "  You  can  get  what 
you  want  in  London  if  you 
know  your  way  about,  you 
know."  He  glanced  round  the 
room.  It  was  occupied  only 
by  themselves,  and  a  snoring 
recumbent  figure  —  a  young 
blood  whose  dancing  exertions 
had  been  too  much  for  him. 
"  I'll  pay  for  the  drinks,  Dicky, 
if  you'll  tip  the  porter.  Ah  ! 
here  they  come." 

They  lifted  the  fizzing  glasses 
from  the  tray,  and  Granard 
lifted  also  the  bill  that  had 
accompanied  them.  He  lowered 
his  glass  from  his  thirsty  lips 
and  spoke. 

"  Five  pounds  ten  and  six  ? 
Is  this  a  howling  joke  ?  " 

The  face  of  the  porter  never 
moved.  He  gazed  steadfastly 
at  the  startled  officer's  shirt 
front.  "  For  the  drinks,  sir, 
five  and  sixpence,  and " 

"  And  what,  eh  ?  " 

"  Your  subscription,  sir,  for 
last  year  ;  five  guineas ; 


Lieutenant     Jervis,    I     think, 
sir?  " 

The  two  might  have  been 
posing  for  a  Problem  Picture, 
or  for  a  statue  of  Edward  the 
Something  or  other  stabbed 
while  drinking,  so  still  they 
stood.  Dicky  was  silent  also 
for  five  seconds,  then  he  fell 
into  an  arm-chair  and  began 
to  choke  with  laughter.  The 
rustle  of  notes  made  him  wriggle 
round  in  the  chair,  and  he 
crammed  his  handkerchief  into 
his  mouth  as  he  watched  Gran- 
ard slowly  deal  six  pounds  on  to 
the  waiting  tray.  The  suave 
porter  at  once  produced  change, 
bowed,  and  retired,  and  Dicky 
let  go  all  restraint  and  fairly 
roared.  The  uneasy  dreamer 
on  the  settee  swung  his  legs  to 
the  ground  and  sat  up.  "  Wass 
it!  Wass  it?  Whatsit  all 
about  ?  "  Dicky  drained  his 
glass  and  jumped  up.  "  We're 
raided,  laddie,"  he  said,  "  that's 
all — never  mind  your  shoes ; 
bolt  for  your  life."  The  un- 
fortunate man  woke  to  activity 
instantly.  He  seized  his  patent 
leathers  from  the  floor,  dropped 
one,  and  dashing  aside  a  heavy 
curtain  plunged  towards  the 
jazz  noises  that  indicated  the 
direction  of  the  ballroom  ;  gal- 
lant, though  bemused,  he  sought 
his  partner.  .  .  .  Dicky  pulled 
himself  together  by  hastily 
consuming  his  friend's  un- 
touched whisky  and  soda,  and 
then  led  him  out  to  the  cloak- 
room. In  silence  they  re- 
covered their  coats  and  the 
bag  of  golf  clubs,  and  in  silence 
they  passed  by  the  cordial 
"  Good-night,  gentlemen,"  that 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


397 


ushered  them  out.  As  they 
met  the  cool  night  air,  Granard 
broke  down.  He  leaned  against 
the  railings,  and  laughed  till 
the  ponderous  stamp  of  ap- 
proaching boots  showed  that 
the  Law  was  inclined  to  inquire 
into  the  joke.  They  wandered 
downhill  together,  alternately 
breaking  into  giggles  until  Gran- 
ard rested  against  the  railings 
above  George  IV.'s  statue  in 
Trafalgar  Square,  and  spoke 
coherently. 

"Dicky,"  he  said,  "I  sup- 
pose you  can't  promise  not  to 
tell  ?  " 

"Not  for  all  the  Bank," 
said  Dicky,  "  but  I'll  pay  half 
the  fiver.  After  all— I  had 
both  drinks." 

"  No,  I'll  make  Jervis  cut 
me  for  the  total.  I'll  singe 
him  for  it ;  but  you  might 
keep  your  mouth  shut.  I'd 
take  you  down  to  Scotland 
Yard  and  borrow  some  gloves 
to  fight  you  over  it,  but  you'd 
only  beat  me." 

"  Why  !  You've  got  over 
two  stone  in  hand." 

"  I  have,  and  that's  why 
you'd  beat  me.  I  want  to  win 
this.  What  can  I  beat  you  at, 
Dicky  t  " 

"  Golf — tee  up  on  a  match- 
box and  I'll  play  you  round 
the  square ;  outside  all  lamp 
standards  and  islands,  and  hole 
out  against  this  pillar." 

"  Man,  you're  a  wonder — 
the  balls  are  loose  in  the  bag. 
Gimme  the  iron  and  stand 
clear." 

Granard  could  play  golf  if 
he  could  not  box.  The  empty 
match-box  rocked  but  stayed, 


and  a  clean-hit  ball  sailed 
away  to  the  south  and  east.  A 
metallic  echo  showed  that  a 
distant  lamp-post  had  deflect- 
ed its  flight,  and  a  guide  to 
its  ultimate  destination  was 
given  in  a  rattle  of  railings 
down  Northumberland  Avenue. 
Dicky's  ball  was  less  ambiti- 
ous :  it  bounced  and  skidded 
along  the  road  to  come  to 
rest  in  the  gutter  by  the 
Strand  entrance  of  the  tube 
station.  Granard  wisely  took 
a  niblick  and  started  off  on 
his  search.  Dicky  lifted  the 
bag,  and  the  players  separated. 

Ten  minutes  later  Granard 
joined  Dicky,  who  was  leaning 
pensively  against  the  wall  of 
the  fountain  below  the  tee. 
"  I've  lost  my  ball,"  he  said ; 
"  my  third  went  into  St  Paul's, 
or  else  down  a  drain.  Are  you 
round  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Dicky;  "I've 
played  seven,  and  my  ball's 
in  that  water.  It  sank." 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  do 
that  ?  Have  you  been  playing 
backwards  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me.  This  damn 
square's  all  ricochets.  I'm  not 
going  bathing  for  it  anyhow." 

"  Then  we're  all  square. 
Come  back  and  tee  up  again." 

A  small  audience  had  gath- 
ered from  nowhere,  shades  of 
the  London  night.  A  taxi- 
driver,  a  few  inevitable  small 
boys,  and  a  slightly  inebriated 
lady  who  was  under  a  vague 
impression  that  this  was  a 
revival  meeting,  and  who  kept 
explaining  to  the  Square  that 
she  had  been  saved  as  a  girl, 
and  that  the  operation  had 


398 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Sept- 


done  her  no  appreciable  good. 
Dicky  won  the  honour  and 
drove  off,  amid  mild  applause  ; 
his  ball — viciously  sliced — came 
back  off  the  fire-alarm  at  the 
Strand  corner  and  ran  merrily 
down  the  road  to  Whitehall. 
"  A  pretty  effort,  laddie,"  was 
his  opponent's  comment.  "  Now 
stand  clear  for  the  Amateur 
Champion." 

A  hand  fell  on  his  shoulder, 
and  he  looked  round  into  the 
face  of  the  Law.  "  Was  you 
goin'  to  'it  that  baU  *  " 

"  I  was,  constable ;  but  if 
there  is  a  local  rule  on  the 
subject,  I  will  readjust  my 
ideas.  It's  your  course.  .  .  ." 

"I  wouldn't  'it  that  baU  if 
I  was  you.  It  might  land  you 
in  Vine  Street.  I'd  go  'ome, 
gentlemen." 

"  I  believe  you're  right.  In 
my  present  state  of  exhilara- 
tion it  might  land  anywhere. 
My  last  one  went — however, 
we  won't  go  into  that.  Dicky, 
we'd  better  draw  stumps  and 
give  the  audience  their  money 
back." 

The  inebriated  lady  began 
to  sing  a  hymn,  and  the  police- 
man moved  over  towards  her. 
The  taxi-driver  saw  his  chance 
and  opened  the  door  of  his 
aged  vehicle.  Five  minutes 
later  the  Square  was  empty, 
but  a  white  golf-ball  gleamed 
in  the  moon-lit  road  at  the  top 
of  Whitehall — a  ball  in  a  fair 
lie,  yet  unplayable — a  symbol 
of  the  vicissitudes  and  hazards 
of  life. 

On  the  next  day  Dicky 
lunched  with  his  father,  at  a 


very  old  and  sedate  club — a 
club  where  the  lunches  are  ex- 
cellent, but  where  the  words 
"Euffian"  and  "Megaloma- 
niac," when  used,  may  be 
taken  as  being  probably  in 
reference  to  Mr  Lloyd  George, 
and  not  necessarily  to  the 
Kaiser — where  the  Land  Taxes 
still  overshadow  such  minor 
pieces  of  legislation  as  the 
Treaty  of  Versailles, — anyhow, 
it  was  that  sort  of  club.  Dicky 
enjoyed  the  lunch,  and  was 
worsted  in  argument  by  his 
parent  over  a  complicated  ques- 
tion of  International  Law  at 
Sea  ;  Dicky  would  have  per- 
haps done  better  in  the  battle 
had  he  known  more  of  the 
subject  (but  then  even  if  one 
is  young  one  can't  know  every- 
thing). He  got  through  a  shop- 
ping expedition  during  the  after- 
noon, in  the  course  of  which  he 
renovated  the  fringes  of  his 
wardrobe,  and  had  two  in- 
teresting conversations  with 
gunsmiths  on  the  subject  of 
special  loads  for  high  pheasants. 
His  mind  much  refreshed,  he 
arrived  at  the  Goat  Club  at 
the  witching  hour  of  six,  and 
recounted  five  times,  with  ever- 
increasing  detail  and  pro- 
nounced success,  the  story  of 
the  Night  Club,  the  Porter,  and 
the  Bill.  As  he  left  he  re- 
flected that  he  could  not  have 
used  any  better  method  of 
promulgating  the  tale  to  the 
four  corners  of  the  globe,  had 
he  published  it  in  all  the 
London  papers. 

They  had  a  guest  at  dinner 
at  the  hotel  that  night,  an  old 
friend  of  his  father's,  who  had 


1921.J 


Heather  Mixture. 


399 


known  his  mother  as  a  girl. 
The  talk  swung  to  South  Africa 
in  the  old  days,  when  men 
moved  in  big  affairs  and  the 
policy  and  future  of  a  continent 
was  settled  round  camp-fires 
beside  the  long  tilted  waggons. 
Dicky  sat  and  drank  the  stories 
in  greedily,  as  his  seniors  talked 
of  men  and  works  dead  and 
gone.  "  Yes,  I  could  always 
raise  the  men — always  the  same 
sized  force,  too  ;  just  a  notice 
in  all  the  C.M.P.  stations  and 
they'd  come  in.  Five  thousand 
men  at  five  shillings  a  day  and 
their  own  rifles — 'member  the 
Chartered  Company  war  with 
Portugal,  when  we  held  Fort 
Tule  ?  that  was  a  queer  busi- 
ness  " 

"  Yes,  and  the  Matabele  War 
— when  the  members  of  the 
Victoria  Club  volunteered  and 
elected  the  head- waiter  in  com- 
mand f  They  were  with  Forbes 
— some  were  with  Wilson." 

"  Wilson  and  his  men  saved 
us  something.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  them  we'd  have  had 
much  more  trouble  in  the  next 
three  years." 

"  But  weren't  they  all  killed 
at  the  Shangani  Eiver  f  "  asked 
Dicky. 

"  Yes,  that  is  why — you  see, 
they  didn't  try  to  surrender, 
and  they  killed  at  least  four 
hundred  of  the  enemy,,  In 
South  Africa  it  has  always 
been  prestige  and  certainty 
of  aim  that  has  carried  us 
through.  The  one  white  man 
in  the  middle  of  a  thousand 
natives  must  show  he  is  a  man 
if  he  is  to  succeed.  Look  at 
Selous " 


"  Yes,"  said  the  guest,  "  a 
D.S.O.  at  sixty-two,  and  killed 
in  action.  He  could  not  have 
had  a  better  end ;  good  luck 
to  him." 

"Did  you  know  about  the 
compliment  Lobengula  paid 
your  mother,  Dicky  ?  "  said 
his  father.  "  Said  she  was 
worth  thirty  cows,  and  would 
be  worth  more  if  she  was  fat. 
I  felt  I'd  chosen  well  after  I 
heard  that,  as  Loben  was  a 
good  judge,  and  thirty  cows  is  a 
high  price." 

"  Now,  Will,  you  mustn't 
tell  that  story  ;  and  you  know 
you  asked  him  yourself  what 
I  was  worth  just  to  tease 
me " 

"  Perhaps  I  did,  my  dear — 
he  had  so  many  wives  I  thought 
he  ought  to  be  an  expert. 
Another  glass^of  port,  Arthur — 
No?  Tell  Dick  here  about 
your  friend  Woolmerans  and 
your  court-martial.  Go  on  ; 
he'd  like  to  hear  it." 

The  guest  laughed.  ".It's 
just  a  joke  on  me,"  he  said, 
"  but  I  thought  I  was  going  to 
die  fairly  young  at  the  time. 
You  see  (your  father  knows  all 
the  details),  the  Boers  came 
over  the  border  once — oh  !  long 
before  the  war — and  we  didn't 
want  war  then  if  we  could 
help  it.  They  were  raiding 
and  misbehaving  generally,  and 
I  was  sent  up  to  offer  them 
terms.  If  they'd  go  back  and 
be  good  and  pay  for  the  damage 
done,  we  were  ready  to  call  it 
quits.  Well,  I  came  to  them 
and  told  them  all  about  it. 
Yes,  I  was  alone — and  they 
(the  leaders,  you  know)  went 


400 


Heather  Mixture. 


tSept. 


into  a  tent  to  talk  it  over. 
After  a  while  they  came  out 
and  said  my  terms  were  re- 
jected. Well,  I  thought  that 
was  the  signal  for  me  to 
depart,  but  they  said  it  wasn't 
— that  I  was  to  go  on  sitting 
outside  the  tent  while  they 
went  back  and  tried  me.  I 
inquired  into  this,  and  hinted 
that  I  was  an  interested  party, 
but  they  assured  me  that  I 
wasn't  needed  at  [the  court- 
martial  ;  that  it  was  only  to 
decide  whether  I  was  to  be 
allowed  to  go  back  and  report 
what  force  they  had  or  whether 
I  was  to  be  shot.  They  then 
went  into  the  tent,  and  I 
went  on  smoking.  Members 
of  the  crowd  outside  were  kind 
enough  to  go  in  from  time  to 
time  and  to  bring  me  reports 
of  how  the  case  was  going. 
After  a  while  the  Court  came 
out  and  told  me  that  the 
decision  was  for  execution,  and 
was  I  all  ready  f  I  asked  leave 
to  get  my  uniform  coat  from 
my  cart,  and  they  allowed  me 
to  fetch  it  and  to  put  it  on 
(you  see,  shooting  an  envoy  in 
uniform  makes  a  much  better 
case  to  argue  from — it's  more 
official).  Well,  when  I'd  shifted 
and  come  back,  I  found  a 
firing  party  ready,  or  at  least 
supposed  to  be  ready.  They 
were  rather  drunk,  and  the 
man  in  charge  of  them — Wool- 
merans — was  very  drunk.  He 
was  trying  to  get  them  into 
some  sort  of  line  by  waving 
his  rifle  at  them  and  swearing, 
but  the  free  and  independent 
burgher  won't  form  line  if  he 
can  help  it.  I  took  station  in 


front  of  them  at  short  range, 
and  after  a  while  Woolmerans 
asked  me  if  I  was  ready.  I 
said  I  was  at  his  service,  but 
suggested  that  the  army  of 
spectators  standing  behind  me 
might  be  asked  to  move  out 
of  the  line  of  fire,  as  I  was 
not  bullet-proof.  Woolmerans 
saw  the  force  of  this,  and  began 
his  swearing  and  rifle-waving 
at  the  crowd.  The  firing  party 
smoked  and  lounged  about ; 
the  spectators  having  front 
seats  at  the  performance  re- 
fused to  move  ;  and  I  smoked 
and  looked  on.  After  a  bit 
Woolmerans  gave  it  up,  and 
shouted  that  the  spectators 
must  stand  the  risk.  He  got 
his  firing  party  back  in  line, 
and  it  really  looked  as  if  some- 
thing was  going  to  be  done  at 
last,  when  Delarey  arrived, 
partially  dressed  and  carrying 
old  Mrs  Delarey's  big  revolver 
(you  remember  that  revolver, 
Fansett,  eh !  She  used  to 
shoot  anybody  who  came  into 
her  tent  after  dark  with  it; 
I  liked  her — she  was  ninety 
years  old,  and  very  feminine 
and  competent).  Well,  Delarey 
put  the  pistol  into  Woolmerans' 
neck,  and  said,  "  When  you 
say  fire,  we  all  fire,"  or  words 
to  that  effect,  and  as  two  of 
his  sons  were  pointing  rifles  at 
the  firing  party,  and  the  sons 
were  sober,  it  began  to  look 
as  if  Woolmerans  wasn't  going 
to  do  anything  decisive  for 
a  while.  There  were  more  De- 
lareys  coming  up  the  hill — 
about  fifty  of  'em  (they  go  in 
clans,  you  know),  and  they 
sort  of  hustled  me  away.  I 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


401 


slept  in  their  laager  that  night 
— and  that's  all.  Has  your 
father  told  you  of  what  hap- 
pened when  he  had  the  criminal 
missionary  arrested  ?  " 

"  No,  sir — what  happened  1  " 
"  Oh  !  the  missionaries  held 
drawing-room  meetings  in  Cape 
Town  to  pray  for  your  father's 
soul,  which  they  considered 
was  in  a  bad  way  —  and 
they  invited  your  mother  to 
come !  " 

"  Did  you  go,  Mum  ?  " 
"  No,  of  course  I  didn't — 
they  were  most  impertinent 
people ;  besides,  the  mission- 
ary he  ordered  to  be  arrested 
wasn't  at  all  a  nice  man." 

"No,  my  dear — he  wasn't. 
But  things  have  changed  out 
there  now.  Exeter  Hall  and 
the  Colonial  Office  have  lost 
their  power,  and  there  is  a 
great  country  in  the  making ; 
and  Ehodes'  dream  will  come 
true.  .  .  ." 

Dicky  went  to  bed  thought- 
fully that  night.  He  rather 


wondered  how  many  of  the  old 
gentlemen  in  the  London  Clubs 
he  would  find  to  have  been 
makers  of  history  if  they  could 
be  induced  to  talk.  Nobody 
seemed  to  get  much  reward  out 
of  that  sort  of  work,  yet  the 
New  Poor  must  include  in  their 
ranks  men  who  gave  the  Empire 
more  value  than  the  results  of 
the  Great  War  did.  He  fell 
asleep  with  a  mental  reserva- 
tion that  he  would  in  future 
take  it  for  granted  that  all  old 
gentlemen  he  met  were  note- 
worthy until  the  contrary  was 
proved. 

He  parted  with  his  family 
after  breakfast,  and  drove  off 
to  catch  the  10.15  train.  Part- 
ings between  them  had  been 
so  frequent  all  his  life  that  little 
fuss  was  made  over  their  pros- 
pective separation  for  the  win- 
ter. The  Empire  is  so  great 
and  England  so  small  that  Eng- 
lish mothers  must  be  more 
familiar  with  "  good-byes  "than 
are  the  mothers  of  any  other 
race. 


(To  be  continued.) 


402 


[Sept. 


FEOM  THE   OUTPOSTS. 

A  FALSE  PROPHET  IN  THE  SUDAN. 
BY  LIEUT. -COLONEL  C.  E.   VICKERY,   C.M.G.,   D.S.O.,   R.F.A. 


THE  war  had  been  raging 
eight  months,  and  black  despair 
had  settled  in  the  hearts  of 
those  unfortunate  soldiers  who 
were  serving  in  the  Sudan  at 
the  outbreak  of  hostilities.  It 
was  a  blazing  hot  afternoon  at 
the  end  of  April,  nearly  the 
hottest  month  of  the  year  in 
Southern  Kordofan,  when  the 
acting  Governor  sallied  forth 
from  his  grass-roofed  bungalow 
at  the  foot  of  the  Talodi  Hills 
to  make  up  a  game  of  polo 
three  a  side,  consisting  of  the 
Bey,  the  only  other  European 
in  the  station,  four  Egyptian 
officers,  and  himself.  The  sun 
was  blinding  as  he  walked 
across  the  hard  patch  of  "  gar- 
dud  "  soil  over  the  tiny  khor 
to  the  shade  of  a  few  trees 
where  the  ponies  were  waiting 
on  the  edge  of  the  parade- 
ground. 

A  laconic  "  ready "  to  the 
Bey,  fervent  greetings  to  the 
Egyptian  officers  as  if  there 
had  been  a  parting  of  years 
from  them,  and  ponies  were 
mounted  and  the  game  began. 

It  was  not  a  very  scientific 
game,  nor  was  it  particularly 
exhilarating,  but  it  produced 
perspiration  and  dulled  for  a 
moment  one's  thoughts. 

The  game  over,  and  the  same 
greetings  and  prayers  to  Allah 
to  bless  them  having  been  ex- 


changed with  the  Egyptian 
officers,  as  on  arrival,  the  two 
British  officers  walked  over  to 
the  mess,  where  in  long  chairs 
outside  in  the  compound  they 
awaited  refreshment  and  the 
Eeuters. 

Both  quickly  arrived,  and 
the  smiling  Dinkawi  messenger 
handed  the  acting  Governor  a 
fat  telegram  in  addition.  The 
latter's  hearty  "  Damn  "  caused 
the  Bey  to  look  up  from  the 
Eeuters  and  ask,  "  What's  the 
matter  now  !  "  "  Nothing, ' '  was 
the  reply,  "  only  three  pages 
of  Foreign  Office  cipher  marked 
urgent  from  Intelligence,  Khar- 
tum." There  was  nothing  for 
it  but  to  rush  back  to  the  office 
and  decipher  it  before  dinner 
if  possible.  It  was  done  at 
last,  and  the  "  civil  "  hurriedly 
bathed,  dressed,  and  went  back 
to  the  mess  for  dinner,  for  it 
had  long  been  the  custom  for 
the  Governor  and  inspectors  to 
dine  at  the  Battalion  mess,  and 
breakfast  and  lunch  in  their 
own  quarters. 

There  had  been  too  many 
cipher  telegrams  and  alarms 
during  the  last  few  months  for 
the  Bey  to  evince  any  curiosity, 
so  the  cook's  altruistic  little 
effort  in  the  way  of  soup  was 
first  dealt  with. 

"  Anything  on  ?  "  said  the 
Bey. 


1921.] 


A  False  Prophet  in  the  Sudan. 


403 


Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  there 


is.' 


The  situation  in  S.  Kordofan 
at  the  time  was,  if  not  critical, 
at  least  unsatisfactory.  The 
Governor,  with  most  of  the 
Battalion  and  its  British  offi- 
cers, and  the  camel  corps  from 
El  Obeid,  was  away  dealing 
with  a  powerful  Nuba  Mek  who 
had  chosen  this  time  to  defy 
the  Government.  Living  in  a 
great  range  of  hills,  badly 
watered,  honeycombed  with 
caves,  he  was  no  easy  proposi- 
tion to  tackle.  The  German 
agents  had  managed  to  spread 
a  good  deal  of  propaganda 
throughout  the  country,  while 
a  resident  Austrian  mission, 
who  ought  to  have  been  in- 
terned, did  not  help  matters. 

Thus  it  was  on  account  of 
the  expedition  that  Talodi  was 
left  with  two  British  officers 
only,  the  civil  representative 
and  the  Bey,  with  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Battalion.  An- 
other inspector,  who  earned 
great  fame  later  on  the  banks 
of  the  Euphrates,  was  on  his 
way  up,  and  was  expected  in 
two  or  three  days. 

To  return  to  the  telegram, 
its  contents  were  briefly  com- 
municated to  the  Bey.  Ap- 
parently Khartum  had  informa- 
tion that  a  certain  Fiki  Ahmed, 
a  Fellata  from  Sokoto,  had 
recently  returned  from  the 
pilgrimage  to  his  temporary 
home  on  the  Blue  Nile.  He 
had  developed  there  a  great 
holiness,  and  had  attracted 
a  small  following.  He  had 
subsequently  left  for  J.  Gedir 
in  S.  Kordofan,  under,  so 


it  was  said,  divine  instruc- 
tions. 

It  was  rumoured  that  he  in- 
tended to  proclaim  himself  the 
Mahdi.  Now  this  was  serious 
news  indeed  on  three  main 
counts. 

Firstly,  owing  to  the  war 
and  German  propaganda  in  the 
East,  any  situation  that  might 
develop  at  this  time  into  a 
rising  was  especially  to  be 
feared.  Secondly,  the  historical 
association  of  J.  Gedir  would 
have  an  enormous  effect  on 
any  potential  adherents,  for  it 
was  from  this  mountain  (J. 
stands  for  Jebel,  "  mountain  ") 
that  the  Mahdi  in  1882  had 
started  his  crusade  which  re- 
sulted in  the  conquest  of  the 
Sudan  and  the  death  of  Gordon. 
Thirdly,  the  proclamation  at 
any  time  of  some  fanatic  that 
he  was  the  Mahdi  was  always 
serious. 

The  Mahommedans  still  await 
the  Mahdi,  "  he  who  is  guided 
aright,"  the  last  of  the  prophets, 
the  hidden  deliverer  who  will 
appear  one  day  and  free  the 
world.  The  soil  is  always  there 
in  the  East  for  the  seed  to  be 
sown,  and  a  tiny  spark  will 
soon  be  fanned  to  a  flame  of 
fanaticism  costly  and  difficult 
to  extinguish.  The  Sudan  has 
always  been  a  happy  hunting- 
ground  for  false  prophets  since 
the  Mahdi's  success.  To  enter 
into  a  discussion  or  to  trace 
the  rise  of  the  belief  of  Mahom- 
medans in  a  final  prophet  would 
take  too  much  space,  but  to 
the  student  of  Islamic  history 
it  offers  an  attractive  theme  for 
study. 


404 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Sept. 


The  news  from  Khartum, 
then,  was  sufficiently  disturb- 
ing. The  Bey  had  no  troops, 
there  was  no  chance  of  getting 
any,  the  civil  had  only  a  few 
police,  and  time  was  every- 
thing; for  if  the  news  were 
true,  it  would  not  be  long 
before  the  Fiki  got  some  ad- 
herents whose  numbers  would 
be  instantly  increased  at  the 
slightest  sign  of  hesitation  on 
the  part  of  the  Government. 

Obviously  the  first  thing  to 
do  was  to  verify  Khartum's 
information,  for  no  corrobora- 
tion  had  reached  Talodi,  from 
which  J.  Gedir  was  approxi- 
mately sixty  miles  distant.  The 
sub-Mamur  was  sent  for  and 
told  to  leave  at  5  A.M.  the 
following  morning  for  Gedir 
with  four  police,  to  report  on 
the  situation.  There  was  noth- 
ing more  to  be  done,  and  the 
conversation  returned  to  the 
usual  subject,  the  war.  Shortly 
after  9  P.M.  good-nights  were  ex- 
changed, and  for  the  twentieth 
time  it  was  agreed  that  some 
time  next  week  they  really 
would  sit  up  for  a  leopard  that 
was  helping  itself  to  goats  from 
time  to  time  from  the  "  suk  " 
(market  quarter). 

On  the  third  day  after  the 
departure  of  the  Mamur  an 
Arab  dismounted  from  a  jaded 
mare  at  noon  outside  the  Gover- 
nor's office.  The  orderly  ush- 
ered him  in,  and  from  the  folds 
of  a  dirty  emma  (turban)  he 
produced  a  letter  marked 
"  urgent." 

The  news  was  only  too  true. 
The  Fiki  Ahmed  was  there  with 
thirty-five  followers,  while  Mek 


Bosh  of  Gedir  and  the  Sheikh 
of  the  adjoining  hill,  Gerada, 
were  showing  a  great  deal  of 
attention  to  the  Fiki. 

The  Mamur  reported  that 
the  Fiki  refused  to  come  and 
see  him,  while  Bosh  equally 
refused  to  arrest  him  on  behalf 
of  the  Government.  He  further 
reported  that  Fellatas  from 
the  whole  countryside  were 
rumoured  to  be  on  their  way 
to  join  their  countryman.  In 
fact,  the  whole  situation  seemed 
promising.  A  hasty  note 
brought  the  Bey  over  to  a 
conference. 

He  did  not  need  to  be  told 
of  the  gravity  of  the  situation 
and  the  vital  importance  of 
instant  action.  A  soldier,  the 
son  of  a  soldier,  he  weighed 
in  at  once  with  some  concrete 
proposal.  A  Sudanese  batta- 
lion, as  all  who  have  served  in 
the  Egyptian  Army  know,  has 
an  enormous  percentage  of  old 
soldiers,  men  over  forty-five, 
who  were  enlisted  after  the 
various  defeats  of  the  Dervish 
Army  between  1890  and  1898 
— that  is,  at  the  time  of  this 
story,  sixteen  to  twenty-four 
years  ago.  The  headquarters 
left  with  the  Bey  were  all  old 
men.  However,  on  his  own 
responsibility,  he  promised 
fifty  of  the  best  of  them  under 
two  good  officers  to  be  ready 
to  go  wherever  the  civil  ordered 
them. 

An  urgent  telegram  was  de- 
spatched to  the  Governor-Gen- 
eral informing  him  of  the 
Mamur's  report,  and  recom- 
mending that  the  acting  Gov- 
ernor should  proceed  at  once 


1921.] 


A  False  Prophet  in  the  Sudan. 


405 


with  all  available  mounted 
police,  supported  by  the  in- 
fantry, to  arrest  the  Fiki.  An 
urgent  message  informing  him 
of  the  situation  was  sent  to  the 
Governor,  who  was  operating 
eighty  miles  away  against  the 
rebellious  Mek ;  and  another 
message  sent  by  the  acting 
Governor  to  his  own  district, 
a  hundred  miles  away,  for  his 
police  to  move  to  Gerada  near 
Gedir  at  once  from  the  north- 
east by  a  forced  march,  and 
be  ready  to  co-operate  with 
the  force  from  Talodi.  On 
these  police,  enlisted  and  trained 
for  six  years  by  the  acting 
Governor,  he  was  prepared  to 
stake  his  last  piastre. 

It  was  agreed  that  the  new 
inspector,  new  to  the  province, 
not  to  the  Sudan,  must  arrive 
before  any  movement  was  made, 
and  another  message  was  sent 
to  explain  the  situation  and 
request  him  to  hurry. 

The  same  evening  a  telegram 
was  received  from  Khartum 
flatly  refusing  to  sanction  the 
proposals,  on  the  ground  that 
the  police  and  infantry  were 
insufficient  in  numbers  to  deal 
with  the  Fiki,  and  any  reverse 
would  be  disastrous .  This  latter 
point  was  quite  true,  but  a 
delay  was  almost  as  disastrous. 

The  authorities  had  doubt- 
less not  forgotten  the  tragic 
death  of  that  gallant  and  con- 
spicuously able  soldier,  C., 
which  had  occurred  some  few 
months  previously.  C.  had 
moved  out  against  a  false  pro- 
phet who  had  proclaimed  him- 
self on  the  Blue  Nile.  He  had 
come  up  with  him,  and  leaving 


his  troops  halted,  had  ridden 
forward  to  a  low  crest  accom- 
panied by  a  few  orderlies  to 
reconnoitre.  The  Fiki  and  his 
party  had  ridden  forward  at 
the  same  time  and  met  C.  on 
the  crest-line,  instantly  spear- 
ing him.  His  death  was 
avenged  ;  but  so  little  serves 
to  light  a  fire  in  the  East,  that 
the  death  of  a  British  officer 
in  such  circumstances  is  re- 
garded as  a  sign  of  a  feeble 
government. 

The  orders  from  Khartum 
amazed  us,  as  it  was  one  of  the 
articles  of  faith  in  the  Sudan 
that  a  false  prophet  must  be 
arrested  at  once  to  save  the 
lives  of  many ;  for  if  he  were 
allowed  to  be  at  large,  he  would 
certainly  preach  a  jehad  against 
the  government,  and  so  involve 
in  time  many  Arabs  in  inevit- 
able disaster. 

Another  telegram  was  sent 
to  Khartum  urging  reconsidera- 
tion, but  their  reply  received 
in  the  evening  was  adamant. 
That  same  evening  a  further 
report  was  received  from  the 
Mamur  saying  that  he  had  been 
obliged  to  retire  to  another 
village  owing  to  the  threaten- 
ing demeanour  of  the  Fiki. 
The  following  morning  X.  ar- 
rived, and  with  his  usual  clarity 
of  vision  and  unruffled  calm 
made  himself  acquainted  with 
the  situation  and  the  other 
various  important  matters  out- 
standing in  the  Province.  The 
acting  Governor  then  arranged 
to  leave  at  5  P.M.  that  after- 
noon with  all  available  mounted 
police,  twenty  in  number,  and 
to  be  followed  by  the  fifty 


406 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Sept. 


infantry  as  fast  as  they  could. 
Khartum  were  informed  that, 
owing  to  the  fresh  report  from 
the  Mamur  and  the  general 
local  situation,  it  was  considered 
imperative  to  act  at  once — that 
the  acting  Governor  was  mov- 
ing out  as  above  on  his  own 
responsibility,  and  that  it  was 
hoped  their  concurrence  would 
be  received.  Khartum  wired 
and  concurred,  but  the  message 
was  received  after  the  departure 
of  the  small  force. 

That  afternoon,  accompanied 
for  the  first  few  miles  by  the 
Bey  and  X.,  both  rather  pessi- 
mistic, the  acting  Governor  set 
out.  The  sun  struck  fiercely 
for  the  first  hour  just  under 
the  rim  of  the  helmet,  and  the 
hour  of  sunset  seemed  as  if  it 
would  never  come.  A  great 
herd  of  tiang  were  passed  a 
few  miles  out,  and  a  solitary 
roan  was  seen  lumbering  off  in 
the  distance.  At  sunset  a  halt 
was  called  for  prayer,  but  in 
ten  minutes'  time  the  march 
was  resumed  over  the  "  gardud" 
(hard  gravel)  plain  of  light 
forest  and  scrub,  alternating 
with  open  patches  of  black 
cotton  soil,  treeless  except  for 
the  red  and  thorny  "  talh  " 
tree,  which  exudes  a  cheap 
variety  of  gum.  At  the  time 
of  the  last  prayer — that  is, 
about  nine  in  the  evening — a 
halt  was  made  for  dinner.  Ten 
minutes  were  sufficient  for  the 
cook  to  provide  a  dinner,  which 
was  carried  on  his  mule  in 
saddle-bags,  served  by  the  best 
suffragi  (waiter)  in  the  Jebel 
province.  It  is  a  lonely  life  in 
the  Sudan,  and  the  acting 


Governor  had  made  it  a  rule 
always  to  dress  for  dinner  when 
alone,  and  never  to  have  one 
course  cleared  before  he  called. 
One  memorable  day  he  had 
been  out  shooting,  and  returned 
tired  and  weary  ;  he  bathed, 
dressed,  and  proceeded  straight- 
way to  dinner.  It  had  been  a 
hot  day,  and  the  first  bottle  of 
beer  was  soon  put  away.  With 
a  book  by  his  side  he  proceeded 
to  deal  with  the  second  bottle, 
when,  after  the  pudding  course 
— he  was  dining,  as  every  one 
does,  out  in  the  open — nature 
asserted  itself,  as  the  results  of 
a  fatiguing  day,  and  he  fell 
asleep.  Waking  up  cold  and 
cramped,  he  looked  at  his 
watch,  which  showed  2  A.M., 
and  he  realised  that  he  had 
been  asleep  six  hours.  "  Boy," 
he  called,  and  the  same  suffragi 
gravely  walked  up,  took  away 
the  dirty  plate,  and  put  down 
a  sardine  on  toast,  the  savoury 
of  the  out-station,  and  went 
back  to  the  kitchen  as  if  no- 
thing extraordinary  had  hap- 
pened ;  and  the  savoury  was 
hot.  However,  this  is  a  digres- 
sion, awakened  by  memories 
of  that  excellent  waiter  in  a 
servantless  country. 

Dinner  finished,  saddles  were 
put  on  again,  and  the  march 
continued.  With  one  halt  of 
two  hours,  that  night  was  passed 
half  nodding  on  a  jogging  horse. 
There  were  no  villages  on  the 
road,  and  nothing  broke  the 
deathly  stillness  of  the  plain 
save  the  hoot  of  the  owl  and 
the  ghastly  howling  of  the 
hyena. 

Shortly  after  sunrise  a  tired 


1921.] 


A  False  Prophet  in  the  Soudan. 


407 


body  marched  into  the  village 
at  J.  Morung.  The  whole  of 
S.  Kordofan  is  dotted  with 
Jebels,  like  small  kopjes,  rocky 
and  sinister  in  appearance,  ris- 
ing from  800-2000  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  plain,  and  many 
of  them  inhabited  by  the  Nubas 
on  the  slopes  and  summit. 

At  the  village  was  found  the 
Mamur  who  had  been  sent  out 
several  days  previously  from 
Talodi.  He  gave  his  latest 
news  during  breakfast,  and 
very  unsatisfactory  it  was. 
There  was  no  news  of  the 
Tendik  police,  but  the  acting 
Governor  had  no  uneasiness 
about  them.  The  Fiki  had 
become  most  truculent  in  his 
manner,  while  the  manner  of 
Mek  Bosh  of  Gedir  was  border- 
ing on  the  offensive.  There 
was  an  air  about  all  the  Arabs 
of  waiting  to  see  what  the 
Government  did,  and  there  was 
no  doubt  as  to  what  these  sus- 
ceptible fanatics  would  do  if 
the  Government  suffered  a  re- 
verse. 

The  decision  had  been  made  ; 
it  was  too  late  for  further  delay, 
or  even  to  wait  for  the  infantry 
to  catch  up  the  police.  After 
breakfast  and  an  hour's  rest 
weary  horses  were  mounted  by 
wearier  riders,  and  the  small 
cavalcade  moved  on.  Gedir 
was  distant  some  fourteen  miles 
away,  and  divided  from  Morung 
by  a  cotton-soil  plain,  with  a 
few  low  uninhabited  hills  100 
to  200  feet  above  the  ground- 
level  dotted  over  its  surface. 

Pressing  on  at  a  jog-trot, 
the  north-western  slopes  of 
Gedir  were  reached  at  9  A.M.  ; 


the  road  then  turned  south, 
and  ran  along  the  base  of  the 
Jebel  due  south  to  the  village. 
The  party  left  the  road  and 
moved  about  400  yards  parallel 
to  it,  in  order  to  be  out  of 
Eemington-rifle  range  of  the 
Jebel. 

A  half-mile  farther  on  the 
rattle  of  musketry  close  to  the 
front  and  the  tumult  of  many 
voices  suddenly  broke  forth. 
Urging  the  weary  horses  to  a 
canter,  the  police  breasted  a 
small  col  connecting  some  hills 
with  the  main  range,  when  to 
the  front,  half  a  mile  distant, 
was  seen  a  small  body  of  police 
in  the  midst  of  many  Arabs 
fighting  desperately,  while  all 
around  at  some  distance 
hundreds  of  spectators  watched 
impassively  the  fray.  There 
was  no  need  for  the  acting 
Governor  to  speculate  on  what 
had  happened ;  it  was  obvious. 
The  Tendik  police  had  ridden 
on  to  join  up  with  him,  and 
had  gone  on  too  far,  running 
right  into  the  Fiki,  who  saw 
an  admirable  chance  of  making 
a  start  by  killing  off  a  small 
party  of  Government  police. 
He  was  soon  disillusioned.  The 
Talodi  police  broke  into  a  gallop 
and  charged  down  on  the  flank 
of  the  Fiki's  party,  but  there 
were  few  of  them  left  by  the 
time  they  arrived,  and  those 
few  quickly  despatched.  Time 
has  not  dimmed  the  remem- 
brance or  the  pride  of  that 
moment  as  the  Arab  sergeant 
of  the  Tendik  police,  rigid  at 
the  salute,  surrounded  by  the 
corpses  of  the  dead  followers  of 
the  Fiki,  asked  anxiously  of 


408 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Sept. 


his  Inspector,  "Is  it  well,  your 
ExceUency  f  " 

"  It  is  well,"  was  his  answer, 
as  the  Inspector  dismounted 
and  held  forth  his  hand.  "  Allah 
has  given  us  victory ;  praise 
be  to  Allah,  for  he  is  the 
greatest." 

"  Your  story,  Ibrahim." 

"  Excellency,  we  were  on 
patrol  from  Tendik  with  the 
Mamur  when  your  orders  ar- 
rived. We  had  heard  rumours 
of  the  Fiki,  and  marched  at 
once  to  meet  your  Excellency 
(may  Allah  prolong  your  life) 
at  Gerada.  We  arrived  there 
early  this  morning,  and  heard 
you  were  at  Morung,  or  ex- 
pected there.  We  went  on, 
fearful  to  miss  you,  and  in- 
tended to  wait  a  mile  outside 
the  village  of  Gedir  and  watch 
the  road  by  which  your  Excel- 
lency must  come.  We  were 
looking  round  for  a  halting- 
place  when  we  saw  the  Fiki 
advancing  on  us,  calling  on 
Allah  to  help  him.  We  sum- 
moned him  to  surrender  twice, 
but  he  refused,  and  made  to 
attack  us.  We  dismounted 
and  tied  our  horses  to  trees, 
and  advanced  to  meet  them. 
We  fought  for  some  minutes, 
killing  many,  when  we  heard 
the  horses  galloping  and  the 
shouts  of  the  Talodi  police. 
The  Arabs  wavered,  and  all 
were  killed." 

"  Show  me  the  Fiki,"  said 
the  Inspector,  and  the  prophet's 
body  was  shown  him,  spear 
still  in  hand,  and  identified  by 
Mek  Bosh  and  other  Sheikhs, 
who  had  by  this  time  crowded 
round  to  salute  the  acting 


Governor  and  to  congratulate 
the  Government. 

The  scene  was  not  a  pleasant 
one ;  the  Fiki's  party  numbered 
forty  in  all,  and  they  had 
attacked  the  Tendik  police, 
numbering  twelve.  The  Arabs 
were  armed  with  long  and  short 
spears  and  Nigerian  bows  and 
arrows ;  the  police  were  armed 
with  carbines ;  but  once  at 
grips  the  spear  was  a  dangerous 
and  deadly  weapon,  while  the 
loading  of  the  Enfield  carbine 
and  the  confusion  of  the  mel^e 
gave  little  advantage  to  the 
police.  One  man  of  the  Tendik 
police  was  mortally  speared, 
and  one  man  of  the  Talodi 
detachment  very  slightly. 

The  former  had  only  a  few 
hours  to  live,  and  on  being 
greeted  by  his  Inspector  made 
known  a  few  requests  to  him : 
a  small  bill  or  two  owed  in  the 
"  suk,"  the  hope  that  Govern- 
ment would  see  his  wife  and 
child  did  not  starve,  and  then 
with  a  smile  he  said  good-bye. 
The  death  of  Marcus  Aurelius, 
firm,  resolute,  and  unflinching, 
was  not  more  sublime  than  that 
of  this  simple  Arab  soldier. 
Whatever  the  opinion  held  of 
the  Mahommedan  religion,  it 
teaches  men  to  pass  over  the 
great  Eubicon  unruffled  and 
undismayed. 

The  Fiki  and  hi&  party  were 
then  collected  for  burial,  forty- 
one  in  all.  Not  a  man  had 
escaped  or  tried  to  escape  ;  in 
blind  fanaticism  they  had  met 
their  end. 

A  mighty  grave  was  dug, 
and  the  bodies  were  placed  in 
it.  Before  filling  it  in  Mek 


1921.] 


A  False  Prophet  in  the  Sudan. 


409 


Bosh  was  called  to  the  side  of 
it  and  asked  if  there  were  room 
for  one  more.  He  looked  and 
said,  "  Yes,  there  was  room." 
"  Then  take  warning,"  was  the 
reply,  "  and  meet  the  Govern- 
ment at  Talodi  in  three  days' 
time,  when  you  shall  be  in- 
formed of  the  Government's 
displeasure  at  your  behaviour." 

The  whole  party  then  re- 
turned to  Morung,  where  the 
infantry  had  just  arrived. 

Before  leaving  Gedir  orders 
were  given  that  the  fissure 
between  two  great  rocks  in 
which  the  Mahdi  of  1882  was 
reported  to  have  dwelt  for  a 
few  hours  at  a  time  in  solitary 
meditation  was  to  be  over- 
thrown. So  narrow  was  the 
fissure  that  local  supersti- 
tion alleged  the  Mahdi  turned 
himself  into  a  spirit  in  order 
to  effect  his  entry. 

At  Morung  the  whole  party 
rested  that  afternoon,  and  on 
the  following  afternoon  the 
Tendik  police  returned  to  their 
station  and  the  acting  Governor 
marched  back  to  Talodi. 

From  local  reports  it  had 
been  ascertained  that  various 
small  parties  of  Fellata  were 
on  their  way  to  join  the  Fiki, 
so  a  good  look-out  was  kept, 
with  the  result  that  half  a 
dozen  men  were  seen  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  off  the  road,  about 
seven  miles  out  of  Morung. 
These  were  rounded  up  and 
marched  along  as  prisoners  in 
order  to  interrogate  them  at 
Talodi.  A  mile  farther  a  police 
sergeant  rode  up  and  com- 
plained that  he  could  not  get 
the  prisoners  on.  The  In- 


spector had  noticed  that  they 
were  dropping  behind,  but  was 
not  paying  much  attention. 
Biding  back,  one  Fellata  was 
seemingly  in  a  trance,  and  could 
not  be  made  to  move.  Every- 
body was  defeated,  the  man 
could  not  be  carried,  when  a 
memory  of  eleven  years  ago 
in  Nigeria  crossed  the  mind  of 
the  acting  Governor. 

In  a  flash  he  saw  again  that 
West  African  forest,  the  rear- 
guard of  a  column  under  that 
officer  who  is  now  Chief  of  the 
Air  Staff,  and  two  Hausas 
lying  as  if  dead  on  the  road. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  that 
it  had  happened.  Blows  were 
useless,  nothing  could  move 
them,  they  felt  no  pain  appa- 
rently. Poles  were  cut,  ham- 
mocks made,  and  they  were 
carried  into  camp,  where  the 
rearguard  officer  was  told  the 
O.C.'s  opinion  about  his  delay. 

Saying  nothing,  the  subaltern 
went  sadly  over  to  the  camp 
hospital  where  the  Hausas  had 
been  taken.  He  was  sure  he 
had  been  tricked,  but  yet  why 
did  their  own  comrades  say 
nothing,  for  they  had  all  the 
trouble  of  carrying  in  the  men  ? 
The  M.O.  was  consulted,  and 
they  both  pondered  deeply, 
when  the  former  had  an  in- 
spiration. "  Boy,  bring  me  my 
ammonia  bottle."  A  cloth  was 
saturated  with  Scrubbs'  ammo- 
nia and  put  over  the  mouth 
and  nostrils  of  the  seemingly 
dead  Hausa.  His  muscles  stif- 
fened, and  in  thirty  seconds 
four  men  could  not  hold  him 
down.  His  companion  got  up 
at  once.  "  Will  the  punish- 


410 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Sept. 


ment  be  just,"  said  the  sub- 
altern. ' '  It  will  be  just,  by 
Allah,"  replied  the  Hausa,  and 
that  was  the  end  of  trances 
among  the  Hausas. 

All  this  flashed  through  the 
acting  Governor's  mind  when 
he  gazed  on  the  Fellata  on 
that  scorched  track  in  the 
Sudan.  He  waited  till  the  mule 
transport  came  up,  and  then 
demanded  of  his  astonished  boy 
the  ammonia.  The  experiment 
was  again  completely  success- 
ful, and  an  admiring  sergeant 
marched  on  the  prisoners  with 
no  further  difficulty. 

Sleeping  by  the  roadside  that 
night,  and  at  a  small  village 
near  Talodi  the  following  night, 
on  the  Friday  morning  the 
small  force  rode  back  into  the 


station  from  which  they  had 
been  absent  barely  ninety  hours. 
The  Bey  and  X.  met  them  a 
mile  or  two  out  with  warm 
congratulations,  and  the  same 
afternoon  a  most  generous  tele- 
gram was  received  from  that 
Governor-General  under  whom 
so  many  British  officers  have 
had  the  pleasure  and  great 
honour  to  serve,  sure  of  ready 
sympathy,  help,  and  apprecia- 
tion of  anything  done  at  all 
times. 

For  the  police  there  was  a 
reward  of  a  month's  pay,  the 
sergeants  were  made  officers, 
and  in  seven  days'  time  the 
acting  Governor  left  on  his 
250-mile  ride  to  the  railway 
en  route  at  last  for  home  and 
the  war. 


THE   HIGHER  EDUCATION. 


Just  beyond  the  rose-gardens 
of  Chaidan  in  the  Punjab, 
where  the  grey  stone  hills  rise 
up  from  the  green  corn-fields, 
was  the  mud  home  of  Subadar 
Din  Mohammed  of  the  169th 
Punjabis.  The  Subadar  would 
have  been  unfitted  in  many 
respects  to  receive  the  benefits 
of  a  representative  government 
had  he  lived  to  see  them.  To 
start  with,  he  could  neither 
read  nor  write ;  if  given  a 
photograph,  it  was  three  to 
one  that  he  would  hold  it  the 
wrong  way  up ;  and  lawyers 
and  public  speakers  he  took 
to  be  the  froth  of  the  lower 
shopkeeping  class. 

His  interests  were  practically 
confined  to  three  matters. 


Matter  number  one  was  the 
169th  Punjabis.  In  his  eyes 
the  regiment  was  pre-eminent 
amongst  the  armies  of  the 
world  ;  its  officers  the  wisest 
and  most  gallant ;  its  men  the 
stoutest  of  heart  and  limb ; 
its  history  the  most  renowned. 
This  may  have  been  narrow- 
minded,  but  he  had  seen  much 
war,  and  such  was  the  conclu- 
sion he  had  come  to. 

Matter  number  two  was 
Major  J.  G.  Annan.  Major 
and  Subadar  had  joined  at 
the  same  time,  the  sepoy  sub- 
sequently becoming  the  officer's 
orderly  for  several  years.  This 
had  involved  months  on  trek 
together  after  markhor  and 
ibex,  with  only  odd  shikaris 


1921.] 


The  Higher  Education. 


411 


for  company ;  and  in  the  even- 
ings over  log-fires,  in  the  morn- 
ings at  halts  in  green  oases, 
the  orderly  had  come  into  close 
contact  with  a  mind  of  a  far 
higher  order  than  any  produced 
in  his  native  hills.  Also  the 
subaltern  had  learned  the  depth 
of  honesty  and  courage  pos- 
sessed by  the  man,  and  the 
resultant  close  friendship  had 
never  been  broken. 

The  third  matter  was  Fazl 
Khan.  Fazl  Khan  was  the 
Subadar's  only  son ;  but  as 
in  1914  he  was  only  just  over 
thirteen  years  old,  it  is  doubtful 
if  he  had  had  time  to  take  an 
equal  place  in  his  father's  mind 
with  the  two  preoccupations  of 
longer  standing. 

Fazl  Khan's  education  was 
also  not  all  that  it  might  have 
been.  He  certainly  sat  under 
the  village  mullah  for  an  hour 
or  two  a  day  until  he  was  nine 
or  ten,  but  the  amount  of 
learning  which  he  imbibed  was 
not  vast.  On  the  other  hand, 
in  matters  which  are  not  always 
considered  under  the  heading 
of  education,  he  was  very  well 
informed.  The  history  of  his 
father's  regiment  he  knew  inti- 
mately from  the  year  in  which 
it  was  raised,  by  a  hare- 
brained dare-devil  subaltern, 
as  a  levy  of  irregulars,  down 
to  the  last  small  frontier  war, 
when  its  speed  on  the  hillside 
had  caused  dismay  in  the  hearts 
of  the  British  battalion  co- 
operating with  them. 

He  could  tell  you  when  such 
and  such  a  havildar  had  gained 
the  Indian  Order  of  Merit, 
where  so  and  so  Sahib  had  been 


killed.  He  could  also  tell  you 
of  the  haunts  and  habits  of 
almost  every  bird  and  beast 
in  his  native  hills.  His  stock 
of  fairy  tales  was  remarkable. 
However,  he  was  but  a  small 
boy  when,  in  1914,  the  169th 
were  ordered  to  France,  thereby 
giving  the  Bengali  a  claim  to 
self-government.  Through  the 
wet  and  cold  and  mud  the 
battalion  stuck  it  out,  as  hun- 
dreds of  other  battalions  stuck 
it  out  to  right  and  left. 

Major  Annan  was  wounded ; 
Subadar  Din  Mohammed  was 
wounded.  This  incidentally 
gave  the  latter  the  chance  of 
seeing  Windsor  and  a  fat  pig 
in  His  Majesty's  farm  near  by, 
the  fat  pig  creating  far  more 
surprised  admiration  in  his 
mind  than  the  castle.  Then 
came  the  holding  attack  in 
September  1915  to  the  north 
of  Loos.  The  battalion,  hard 
hit,  reached  the  third  line  of 
German  trenches,  supports  were 
non-existent,  the  flanks  were 
in  the  air,  and  the  Boche,  rein- 
forced, came  in  from  left  and 
right.  It  was  at  this  moment 
that  the  Major  was  hit  through 
the  chest,  and  Din  Mohammed, 
standing  beside  him,  ordered 
two  men  to  carry  him  to  the 
rear,  while  he  himself  with  the 
remains  of  his  platoon  stolidly 
stood  his  ground,  bombing  over 
a  traverse  and  holding  up  the 
enemy  for  just  the  few  minutes 
that  were  needed  to  get  the 
Major  clear. 

The  Major,  unconscious,  was 
carried  clear,  but  of  Din  Mo- 
hammed and  his  men  not  one 
has  appeared  again. 


412 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Sept. 


In  the  summer  of  1919  the 
depot  of  the  169th  was  swelter- 
ing in  the  dust  and  glare  of 
Jhelum.  The  battalion  was  in 
Waziristan. 

In  the  mud-brick  office,  un- 
der the  feeble  swish  of  a  cotton 
punkah,  sat  one  Williams,  a 
pink  -  faced  youth,  wrestling 
with  a  large  number  of  prob- 
lems. His  knowledge  of  mili- 
tary matters  was  not  profound, 
his  knowledge  of  the  keeping 
of  accounts  nil,  yet  here  he 
found  himself  paid  by  the  State 
to  train  300  men  for  war  and 
keep  the  accounts  of  over  1200. 
However,  trusting  to  fortune 
and  the  head  clerk,  he  in  no 
wise  despaired. 

To  him  entered  from  the 
sunlight  a  tall  upright  young 
Mohammedan  in  the  white  cot- 
ton homespun  of  the  zamindar. 
With  his  bold  open  expression, 
and  black  curls  falling  half- 
way to  his  shoulders,  he  was 
good  to  look  upon. 

"  Your  Honour,"  he  said 
respectfully,  "  I  have  come  to 
enlist  in  the  regiment." 

Williams  replied  that  he  much 
regretted  the  policy  of  the 
Sirkar,  but  that  no  recruits 
could  be  taken,  only  men  de- 
mobilised from  disbanded  units. 
The  youth  paused,  then — 

"  But  I  am  the  son  of  Din 
Mohammed." 

Williams  had  never  heard  of 
Din  Mohammed,  and  said  that 
might  be  so,  but  orders  were 
orders,  and  hinted  that  time 
was  short  and  accounts  long. 
The  youth,  however,  showed 
no  inclination  to  depart.  In- 
stead, he  stood  considering  his 


bare   toes   for   some   minutes. 
At  last  he  looked  up. 

"  Will  you  write  for  me  to 
Annan  Sahib  Bahadar,  and  say 
that  Fazl  Khan,  son  of  Din 
Mohammed,  wishes  to  enlist, 
and  I  will  return  after  a  week 
and  hear  his  reply  ?  " 

Williams  wrote,  and  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  the  com- 
manding officer  appeared  to 
value  Fazl  Khan  above  the 
Army  Orders.  "  Enlist,"  he 
wrote,  "  and  if  they  question 
refer  to  me." 

So  Fazl  Khan  duly  entered 
upon  a  course  of  the  dusty 
Jhelum  parade  -  ground,  the 
equally  dusty  range,  and  the 
more  dusty  hockey  ground. 
On  the  last  he  certainly  created 
an  impression,  but  hardly  as 
a  player  ;  he  failed  to  see  why, 
when  armed  with  a  trusty  club, 
if  your  adversary  apparently 
tried  to  break  your  fingers, 
you  should  not  do  your  best 
to  break  his  shin.  He  was 
better  pleased  with  the  week- 
ly wrestling  matches.  On  his 
first  appearance  he  suddenly 
assaulted  the  depot  champion 
when  that  worthy  was  still 
slapping  his  thighs  in  a  pre- 
liminary canter  so  to  speak, 
butted  him  in  the  stomach 
with  his  head,  and  hurled  him 
to  the  ground,  much  to  the 
surprise  and  chagrin  of  the 
champion  and  the  delight  of 
the  spectators.  Six  months 
later  he  was  passed  out  from 
the  recruits,  went  up  with  a 
draft,  and  joined  the  regiment 
at  Jandarogha. 

Jandarogha    could    not    be 
described  as  a  pleasant  smiling 


1921.] 


The  Higher  Education. 


413 


spot.  A  tumbled  sea  of  grey 
and  brown-baked  hills,  dotted 
on  all  the  lower  slopes  with 
dark  bushes  of  holly  oak  and 
camel-thorn.  Winding  in  and 
out  through  the  hills  the  white 
stony  bed  of  the  Zam,  with  a 
slender  thread  of  water  mean- 
dering through  the  stones.  On 
a  cliff  above  the  Zam  stands  the 
camp,  row  on  row  of  white 
tents,  arresting  the  eye  from 
every  hill-top. 

The  weary  draft  toiled  up 
the  stony  path  towards  the 
camp.  They  were  not  exces- 
sively happy.  Nearly  all  young, 
they  felt  as  new  boys  arriving 
for  the  first  time  at  school — 
strangers,  and  far  from  home. 

At  the  top  of  the  rise  stood 
a  slender  figure,  leaning  on  a 
long  iron-shod  hill-stick,  the 
bronze  of  the  quiet  face  making 
the  white  moustache  and  deep 
blue  eyes  stand  out  in  curious 
contrast.  He  held  up  his  hand 
as  the  draft  approached,  and 
the  havildar  halted  the  men. 
Colonel  Annan  walked  slowly 
down  the  line,  saying  a  word 
to  a  man  here  and  there,  till 
he  reached  Fazl  Khan. 

"  So,"  he  said,  "  here  is  my 
old  friend  Din  Mohammed's 
son.  Come  aside  with  me  here 
for  a  moment  and  tell  me  your 
news." 

While  the  draft  marched  on, 
Fazl  Khan,  at  the  Colonel's 
invitation,  squatted  down  be- 
side Annan  Sahib  in  the  shade 
of  a  bush,  and  almost  at  once 
found  himself  discussing  the 
affairs  of  his  home  with  a  man 
who  appeared  to  know  it  as 
well  as  he  did  himself, — the 


prospects  for  his  uncle's  corn, 
his  mother's  patch  of  land,  the 
last  year's  fair,  his  widowed 
cousin  and  her  baby  boy.  With 
Williams  at  the  depot  relations 
had  been  far  otherwise.  The 
O.C.  Depot  had  been  an  auto- 
crat beyond  the  reach  of  ordi- 
nary mortals,  and  his  decrees 
had  filtered  down  to  the  rank 
and  file  through  the  prescribed 
lengthy  channel.  Williams 
Sahib,  the  individual,  no  one 
knew. 

Here,  however,  was  a  dif- 
ferent being.  Fazl  Khan  forgot 
the  difference  of  colour ;  forgot 
that  one  was  an  illiterate  plough- 
boy,  the  other  a  man  renowned 
as  a  leader  at  a  time  when  good 
leaders  were  to  be  found  on 
all  sides.  And  he  opened  his 
heart  to  this  stranger  as  to  a 
friend  of  his  own  age.  Then 
the  quiet  man  began  to  tell 
him  of  his  father,  of  their 
friendship  over  many  years,  of 
his  gallantry  in  war,  and  his 
final  sacrifice  for  the  honour 
of  the  regiment  and  his  com- 
mander's life.  "  I  trust  you 
may  be  worthy  of  him,  Fazl 
Khan,"  he  concluded,  his  steady 
eyes  on  the  lad's  face  ;  "he 
was  the  bravest  man  that  I 
have  ever  met,  and  I  have  met 
many.  You  have  permission 
to  depart." 

And  Fazl  Khan  walked  off 
slowly.  This  was  not  the 
arrival  he  had  expected.  Here 
was  no  strangeness.  It  was  as 
though  he  had,  at  long  last, 
reached  home.  The  spirit  of 
the  regiment  had  begun  to 
enter  into  him  through  one  of 
its  high  priests .  Also  he  realised 


414 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Sept. 


that  the  figure  walking  to  the 
mess-tent  was  a  man  to  go 
tiger-shooting  with,  by  whose 
side  either  life  or  death  would 
be  desirable. 

So  the  son  of  Din  Mohammed 
joined  his  father's  regiment  and 
his  father's  company,  and  life 
was  good.  The  watchful  ad- 
vance at  dawn  over  the  silent 
shadowy  hills,  the  evening 
bathe  in  the  clear  stream  under 
the  willows — these  were  far 
more  to  his  taste  than  the 
dusty  square  at  Jhelum.  He 
watched  the  subtlety  of  his 
old  havildar,  well  versed  in 
the  cunning  of  Pathans  ;  and 
learned  to  avoid  tracks,  nul- 
lahs, scrub,  and  such-like  lairs 
of  the  seeker  after  Government 
rifles.  He  learned  to  search 
mechanically  every  dark  blotch 
of  shade  or  heap  of  stones  for 
the  slightest  movement,  to 
come  down  off  the  steepest  hill 
at  lightning  speed.  And  day 
by  day  also  he  became  imbued 
with  the  pride  of  the  regiment, 
their  knowledge  of  their  own 
skill  and  hardiness,  their  great 
boast  that  never  had  they  lost 
a  rifle.  Dead  had  perforce 
been  abandoned  once  and  again, 
but  a  Government  rifle  never. 

The  weeks  slipped  past  to 
the  same  routine  —  convoying 
strings  of  camels  along  the 
stony  nullahs  ;  lying  all  day 
on  rocky  crests,  in  the  lee  of 
some  great  boulder,  or  the 
shade  of  a  thorn-bush,  search- 
ing the  landscape  for  the  least 
sign  of  movement.  Nights  in 
stone  sangars,  when  the  wind 
howled  overhead,  and  the  tins 
o»  the  barbed  wire  rattled 


from  dark  to  dawn,  so  that  a 
man  could  scarce  hold  himself 
from  firing  at  the  bush  he  had 
been  looking  at  all  day. 

Then  came  a  cool  May  dawn 
when  an  N.C.O.  and  six  men 
of  the  169th  were  ordered  to 
patrol  along  the  telephone  wire 
between  the  picquets  to  find  a 
break.  And  Sepoy  Fazl  Khan 
was  one  of  the  six. 

They  started  out,  rifles  loaded 
and  bayonets  fixed,  the  men 
walking  in  two  files  about 
twenty  paces  apart,  the  N.C.O. 
between. 

Down  to  the  nullah  and  along 
one  side  for  half  a  mile  the 
wire  led,  and  then  over  rock 
and  bush, up  a  hillside  obliquely. 

The  men  walked  steadily 
forward,  rifles  gripped  in  both 
hands,  safety  -  catches  free, 
ready  to  shoot  on  the  slightest 
sign. 

Up  across  the  hillside,  and 
not  a  sign  of  life  but  the  sudden 
whirr  of  a  covey  of  partridges, 
or  a  magpie  flapping  out  of  a 
willow  by  the  stream  below. 

With  the  crest  still  far  over- 
head the  line  turned  along  the 
flank  of  the  hill,  leading  on  to 
a  flat  stony  plateau,  bounded 
on  the  right  by  a  sheer  drop 
of  200  feet  to  the  bed  of  the 
nullah.  Boulders  everywhere 
and  dense  dark  bushes  of  thorn. 

The  patrol  advanced  even 
more  slowly  ;  such  ground  was 
little  to  their  liking,  and  but  for 
the  wire  they  would  have  ap- 
proached it  first  from  the  crest 
high  above  to  the  left.  How- 
ever, the  order  was  to  follow 
the  wire,  so  they  followed  it, 
extended  now  in  two  lines,  the 


1921.] 


The  Higher  Education. 


415 


men  three  to  four  paces  apart, 
the  N.C.O.  walking  beside  the 
wire  on  the  very  brink  of  the 
cliff. 

It  was  half  a  mile  along  the 
plateau  that  the  ever  possible 
happened — the  sudden  crash  of 
a  volley  from  the  bushes  eighty 
yards  ahead.  And  every  man 
dropped  hit,  three  dead,  four 
wounded,  Fazl  Khan  amongst 
the  four. 

There  had  been  no  possi- 
bility of  detecting  the  enemy. 
They  had  cut  the  wire  and 
knew  some  patrol  must  follow 
it,  and  a  man  can  see,  without 
being  seen,  from  a  thick  bush 
at  eighty  yards. 

Before  the  echoes  had  rolled 
away  in  the  hills,  the  mahoud 
was  up  out  of  his  lair,  knife  in 
hand. 

But  for  the  169th  a  man's 
duty  was  done  when  he  was 
dead,  and  not  before.  From 
the  wounded  such  a  hail  of 
bullets  poured  into  the  mass 
of  human  wolves  that  they 
dropped  where  they  were,  and 
took  to  a  warfare  of  position. 

Crawling  from  stone  to  stone 
and  bush  to  bush,  they  started 
to  finish  off  the  remaining  four  ; 
but  wherever  a  filthy  tousled 
head  showed  for  a  moment 
between  the  bushes,  or  a  dirty 
grey-clad  shoulder  round  a  rock, 
a  Punjabi  bullet  whistled. 

After  the  first  thirty  seconds 
only  three  rifles  were  speaking. 
Fazl  Khan,  hit  through  shoulder 
and  thigh,  had  wormed  his  way 
to  the  dead,  and  was  cautiously 
Collecting  tJieiT?  rifles. 


Slowly  he  crawled  back  to- 
wards the  edge,  where  now  the 
last  two  were  still  holding  back 
the  enemy.  Crash,  and  a  bullet 
struck  his  left  leg  again,  shat- 
tering the  knee ;  but  he  still 
had  his  right  leg  to  crawl  with. 
And  he  reached  the  brink, 
laboriously  dragging  five  rifles 
by  the  slings  behind  him. 

Even  as  he  arrived  a  sudden 
gust  of  lead  spattered  on  the 
stones  around,  strips  of  metal 
casing  and  splinters  of  rock 
filling  the  air  ;  and  the  two 
gallant;  men  beside  him  rolled 
slowly  over,  hit  through  the 
head. 

With  a  heave  he  jerked  the 
five  rifles  over  the  edge  of  the 
cliff.  In  a  haze  he  saw  the 
grey  figures  leaping  over  the 
boulders ;  and  careless  now 
whether  he  was  in  view  or  not, 
he  hurled  himself  on  the  rifles 
of  the  two  dead  men.  Clasping 
one  in  each  hand,  he  rolled  to 
the  brink,  and  with  a  last  great 
shout,  "  Ali,  Ali  !  "  disappeared 
into  the  void. 

So  did  the  soul  of  No.  2001, 
Sepoy  Fazl  Khan,  service  to- 
wards pension  eight  months, 
return  to  Allah,  and  to  greet 
the  soul  of  Subadar  Din  Mo- 
hammed above  the  fields  of 
France. 

Even  as  he  fell  the  mobile 
company  turned  a  distant  cor- 
ner of  the  nullah,  and  the  169th 
Punjabis  still  boast  that  never 
yet  have  they  lost  a  Govern- 
ment rifle  committed  to  their 
charge, 

J.  P, 


416 


[Sept. 


MUSINGS   WITHOUT   METHOD. 

THE  STUDY   OF   THE  CLASSICS A   BELATED    REPORT   TO   MR   LLOYD 

GEORGE EDUCATION  AND  POLITICS — GREEK  LITERATURE  FOR  THE 

GREEKLES8 AN     AMERICAN      PROFESSOR  — THE     NEED     OF     "SOFT 

OPTIONS" THE    SUPREME    DIFFICULTY    OF    THE    ALPHABET — WHY 

YOUTH  ABHORS  POLITICS THE  TRIUMPH    OF   OPPORTUNISM "ALL 

FOR  QUARTER  DAY." 


ONCE  upon  a  time  a  man 
was  being  tried  for  murder  in 
a  Western  State.  A  mob  sur- 
rounded the  court-house,  de- 
manding when  the  end  of  the 
trial  would  be.  "  As  soon  as 
you  have  done  talking,"  said 
they,  "  we  want  the  room  to 
lay  out  the  corpse."  Here  we 
have  a  parable  which  may  be 
closely  applied  to  the  attacks 
recently  made  upon  the  classics. 
Greek  is  dead,  Latin  is  mori- 
bund ;  and  instead  of  granting 
an  ample  space  for  the  laying 
out  of  the  corpses,  Mr  Lloyd 
George  packs  what  should  have 
been  a  mortuary  chapel  with  a 
Committee,  appointed  by  him  to 
inquire  into  the  position  of  the 
victims.  Mr  Lloyd  George  is 
unlikely  to  read  the  report,  ex- 
cellent though  it  is.  He  would 
find  it  valueless  if  he  read  it, 
for  it  contains  nothing  that 
should  help  a  demagogue  in 
the  collection  of  votes.  Truly 
it  is  born  out  of  due  time. 
It  conies  too  late  upon  a  be- 
nighted world.  As  commonly 
happens,  when  the  politicians 
are  of  the  jury,  the  trial  has 
taken  place  after  the  victim  is 
dead,  and  all  the  evidence  of 
all  the  wiseacres  avails  not  to 
resuscitate  that  which  they 
have  slain  and  now  deplore. 


Wherefore  the  report,  irrele- 
vantly presented  to  Mr  Lloyd 
George,  who  will  never  profit  by 
it,  is  less  a  statement  of  policy, 
as  it  should  have  been,  than  a 
funeral  dirge. 

When  the  intellectual  history 
of  the  last  thirty  years  comes 
to  be  written,  the  attack  upon 
Greek  will  appear  to  be  its 
most  ridiculous,  as  well  as  its 
liveliest,  episode.  The  cam- 
paign was  conducted  with  the 
heat  and  passion  of  a  parlia- 
mentary contest.  On  the  one 
side  were  ranged  the  true  lovers 
of  literature,  supported  by  a 
few  imaginative  men,  who  saw 
that  even  in  commerce  a  well- 
trained  mind  had  its  uses.  On 
the  other  side  was  gathered 
together  a  vast  crowd  of  demo- 
crats, whose  jealousy  divined 
in  Greek  a  kind  of  exclusiveness, 
backed  by  greedy  parents,  de- 
termined that  their  starveling 
sons  should  be  fed  upon  nothing 
but  what  would  help  them  in 
their  future  careers,  and  by 
narrow,  eager  men  of  business, 
who  saw  no  money  in  the  culti- 
vation of  the  Muses.  They 
spoke  and  wrote,  each  after  his 
own  fashion,  and  all  with  vio- 
lence. Here,  for  instance,  was 
Mr  Wells,  who  has  written  more 
history  than  he  has  read,  pro- 


1921.] 


The  Study  of  the  Classics. 


417 


claiming  pontiflcally  that  Greek 
and  Latin  should  be  instantly 
replaced  in  our  schools  and 
universities  by  Eussian  and 
Hindustanee.  An  equal  igno- 
rance of  all  four  languages 
entitled  him,  we  suppose,  to 
speak  with  authority.  There 
was  a  commercial  gent  lashing 
himself  to  a  fury  against  the 
humanities,  and  declaring  in 
his  ignorance  that  there  was 
no  more  difference  between 
"  human  "  and  "  humane  " 
than  between  "  Smith  "  and 
"  Smythe."  Then  there  were 
others  to  whom  the  smallness 
of  Athens  was  an  affront.  They 
wanted  to  measure  beauty  by 
the  square  mile  and  weigh 
wisdom  by  the  ton.  Had 
Homer  been  born  in  the  United 
States,  had  Plato  been  born 
in  Chicago,  there  might  have 
been  something  in  it.  But 
Athens !  What  good  could 
come  out  of  a  mere  village  ? 
Poor  fools,  who  can  appreciate 
nothing  that  is  not  massive, 
who  have  no  other  standards 
of  judgment  than  size  and 
numbers  ! 

With  such  men  as  these 
doing  their  best  to  darken 
counsel,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  Greek  was  fought  with 
all  the  familiar  weapons  of  po- 
litical warfare.  Loud  appeals 
were  made  by  the  iconoclasts 
to  greed  and  cupidity.  There 
was  no  money  in  Greek,  we 
were  told.  That  eminent  cham- 
pion of  culture,  Mr  Carnegie, 
who  distributed  organs,  free 
libraries,  and  bursaries  with 
lavish  hand,  declared  with  the 
finality  which  belongs  to  wealth 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXXI. 


that  Greek  was  of  no  more 
value  than  Chocktaw ;  and  even 
professors,  hoping  for  a  modest 
share  of  his  millions,  obsequi- 
ously applauded  him.  Thus 
money  became  part  of  the  cam- 
paign against  Greek,  and  there 
were  dons,  to  their  shame  be 
it  said,  who  were  willing  to 
abolish  Greek  if  Messrs  Carnegie 
and  the  other  millionaires  made 
the  abolition  of  Greek  a  con- 
dition of  their  munificence.  It 
was  a  lamentable  spectacle. 
Greek,  the  noblest  shape  ever 
assumed  by  human  speech,  was 
made  the  sport  of  grafters,  and 
laughed  at  as  a  figure  of  fun 
by  those  whose  eyes  were  for 
ever  closed  to  its  beauties. 

It  has  been  the  fate  of  the 
classics,  especially  of  Greek,  to 
excite  the  ire  of  the  sturdy 
radical.  It  seems  that  there 
is  something  anti-democratic 
in  their  study.  They  accord 
ill  with  franchises  and  ballot- 
boxes,  and  they  have  been 
turned  into  a  branch  of  politics 
by  those  who  understand  them 
not.  If  we  might  judge  by 
the  intemperate  language  used 
by  their  opponents,  we  might 
have  believed  that  there  was 
something  scandalous  about 
Greek.  In  the  days  of  noisy 
agitation,  it  was  taken  for 
granted  that,  though  something 
might  be  said  in  favour  of 
Latin,  piety  and  profit  were 
alike  justified  in  condemning 
Greek.  The  democrats  of  yes- 
terday approached  the  study 
of  Greek  in  the  same  temper 
shown  by  the  monks  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  Sir  Thomas 
More  denounced  a  preacher, 


418 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Sept. 


an  enemy  of  learning,  in  terms 
which  are  still  not  inapposite. 
"  For  a  scholar  in  gown  and 
hood,"  said  he,  "in  the  midst 
of  an  academy  which  exists 
only  for  the  sake  of  learning, 
so  to  rail  at  it  is  malicious  im- 
pudence. What  right  has  he 
to  denounce  Latin,  of  which  he 
knows  little  ;  science,  of  which 
he  knows  less  ;  and  Greek,  of 
which  he  knows  nothing  f  He 
had  better  have  confined  him- 
self to  the  seven  deadly  sins, 
with  which  perhaps  he  has 
closer  acquaintance." 

Then,  as  now,  it  seemed  a 
positive  virtue  to  be  ignorant 
of  Greek.  Then,  as  now,  Greek 
was  involved  in  a  kind  of 
scandal,  as  though  its  cabalistic 
alphabet  convicted  it  of  shame 
and  vainglory.  Why  should 
not  the  simple  letters  which 
were  accounted  good  enough 
for  the  Eomans  be  good  enough 
for  the  Greeks  f  So  the  monk, 
condemned  by  More,  saw  vice 
only  in  learning.  Whoever 
studied  Greek  was  a  heretic 
in  those  days.  In  our  day  he 
is  a  hypocrite  and  a  wastrel. 
"  The  teachers  of  Greek,"  said 
the  offending  monk,  "  are  full- 
grown  devils,  the  learners  of 
Greek  are  little  devils."  Not 
otherwise  did  the  ignorant 
speak  a  few  years  ago.  So  well 
assured  were  they  that  their 
contempt  of  Greek — no  better 
than  Chocktaw — which  they  did 
not  understand,  was  justly  ex- 
pressed that  they  were  content 
not  to  argue  but  to  abuse. 
And  now  that  their  ill-omened 
agitation  has  been  successful,  Mr 
Lloyd  George  orders  an  inquiry ! 


The  Committee  has  done  its 
work,  belated  as  it  seems,  with 
admirable  thoroughness.  It 
states  the  case  in  favour  of 
the  classics  with  justice  and 
lucidity.  If  it  be  a  funeral 
oration  rather  than  a  living 
eulogy,  it  is  exceedingly  well 
executed,  but  we  doubt  whether 
it  will  persuade  the  dead  to 
rise  again.  It  sketches  what 
the  student  owes  (or  did  owe, 
when  he  was  permitted  free 
access  to  the  classics)  to  the 
study  of  the  ancient  civilisation 
of  the  Mediterranean  coast, 
without  some  knowledge  of 
which  our  own  present  civilisa- 
tion cannot  be  understood.  If 
a  man  has  been  through  a 
course  of  classical  study  at  a 
university,  he  has,  says  the 
report,  "  obtained  access  to 
literature,  both  in  prose  and 
poetry,  which  in  the  judgment 
of  many  is  absolutely  the 
noblest  in  the  world."  More 
than  this  :  "  He  has  had  the 
advantage  of  studying  a  civili- 
sation in  which  many  of  the 
fundamental  problems  were  the 
same  as  our  own,  but  presented 
themselves  in  vastly  simpler 
forms  and  on  a  much  smaller 
scale  " ;  and  the  value  of  this 
historical  study  is  enhanced 
by  the  fact  that  the  student 
of  ancient  history  "  knows  the 
end  of  the  story."  He  sees 
the  solution  as  well  as  the 
problem.  "  Thus,  when  he 
comes  to  face  the  problems, 
private  or  public,  speculative 
or  administrative,  of  modern 
life,  he  starts  with  a  peculiarly 
valuable  equipment."  And  the 
process  of  classical  study  is  no 


1921.] 


A  Belated  Report  to  Mr  Lloyd  George. 


419 


less  valuable  than  its  results. 
"  He  has  attained  this  access 
to  beauty  and  this  power  of 
understanding  by  means  of  a 
peculiar  course  of  training  which 
requires  the  exercise  of  many 
different  powers  of  the  mind, 
and  forms  a  remarkable  com- 
bination of  memory  -  training, 
imagination,  aesthetic  apprecia- 
tion, and  scientific  method." 
It  is  evident,  then,  that  classical 
study  does  much  else  besides 
training  pedagogues  and  pro- 
fessors. It  "  provides  an  in- 
strument," says  the  report, 
"  for  the  better  enjoyment, 
understanding,  and  mastering 
of  the  world  in  which  we  live." 
More  than  this,  in  spite  of 
greedy  parents  and  clamorous 
politicians,  the  classics  do  in- 
deed prove  of  service  to  the 
boy  in  his  "  future  career." 
The  evidence  of  business  men 
cannot  be  ignored  or  gainsaid. 
The  Committee  invited  the 
opinions  about  education  of 
many  engaged  in  commerce 
and  manufacture,  and  here  is 
the  result.  "  The  witnesses," 
says  the  report,  "  who  supplied 
us  with  evidence  were  repre- 
sentative of  engineering,  ship- 
ping, scientific  industry,  com- 
merce, and  banking.  They 
were  unanimous  that  a  classical 
education,  carried  for  some 
purposes  even  as  far  as  the 
Honour  schools  of  the  Univer- 
sities, was  of  the  highest  value, 
that  premature  specialisation 
was  a  fundamental  mistake." 
Nor  need  we  be  surprised  at 
this  unanimous  testimony.  Not 
even  does  business  depend  upon 
technical  knowledge.  In  what- 


ever business  or  profession  a 
man  may  be  engaged,  he  will 
do  his  work  all  the  better  if 
for  a  while  he  has  lived  imag- 
inatively in  another  world  than 
his  own,  if  he  has  given  some- 
thing at  least  of  his  youth  to 
those  things  of  the  mind  which 
are  not  of  material  use.  The 
student  of  science  may  learn 
much  that  is  serviceable  about 
the  anatomy  of  a  frog.  He  is 
not  asked  in  later  life  to  manage 
frogs.  The  student  of  classics 
learns,  if  he  be  properly  taught, 
something  about  the  character 
and  emotions  of  man.  He 
cannot  read  a  book  of  Homer 
or  a  play  of  Sophocles  without 
being  prompted  curiously  to 
wonder  about  the  motives  of 
human  action.  And  since  it 
will  be  his  business  to  manage 
or  to  influence  men,  it  is  better 
worth  to  him  that  he  should 
understand  a  little  Greek  than 
dabble  in  biology.  "  In  brief," 
says  the  report,  "  our  witnesses 
testified  to  the  value  of  the 
classical  element  in  education 
in  developing  within  the  single 
branch  of  study  the  habit  of 
clear  thinking  and  lucid  state- 
ment, the  sense  of  perspective 
and  discrimination,  the  faculty 
of  sustained  concentration,  the 
combination  of  observation  and 
judgment,  and  the  power  of 
initiative,  which  are  invaluable 
in  business."  The  witnesses, 
we  are  convinced,  are  in  the 
right  of  it,  and  it  is  not  aston- 
ishing that  they  view  with 
dismay  the  gradual  disappear- 
ance of  the  classics  from  our 
schools  and  colleges. 

Moreover,    the    teachers    of 


420 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Sept. 


those  subjects  which  are  called 
"  modern  "  agree  with  the  men 
of  business  in  setting  a  high 
value  upon  the  classical  element 
in  education.  Those  students 
who  ?  have  had  their  minds 
trained  by  learning  Greek  and 
Latin  are  better  skilled  to  solve 
the  problems  of  science  than 
those  who  have  never  been 
permitted  to  stir  outside  a 
laboratory.  And  if  the  art  of 
writing  is  still  to  be  held  in 
esteem,  surely  those  who  are 
destined  to  practise  it  can  find 
no  better  method  of  training 
than  in  the  study  of  Greek  and 
Latin,  upon  whose  tradition 
our  modern  literature  is  firmly 
based.  There  is  no  easy  road 
to  the  writing  of  our  stubborn 
English  prose.  But  at  least 
one  clear  avenue  of  approach 
to  excellence  has  been  laid  out 
for  us  by  the  masters  of  Greek 
and  Latin.  Many  a  writer  of 
English  has  acquired  the 
economy  of  speech,  the  accu- 
rate sensitiveness  to  the  use 
and  association  of  words  which 
are  essential  to  a  sound  style, 
by  the  study  of  Greek  and 
Latin  prose.  No  finer  disci- 
pline, indeed,  for  a  writer  has 
yet  been  found  than  the  turn- 
ing of  English  into  Latin  or 
Greek.  The  act  of  translation 
is  impossible  without  a  due 
appreciation  of  both  languages, 
and  it  is  in  the  clarity  of  the 
classical  tongues  that  we  may 
see  most  clearly  mirrored  our 
own  difficult  exacting  speech. 

Naturally  enough  the  Com- 
mittee has  considered  "  the 
question  of  classics  as  a  pre- 
paration for  journalism."  It 


may  be  that  journalism  is  now 
dying  of  its  own  excesses,  and 
it  would  be  safe  to  bet  that 
after  the  reaction,  which  will 
surely  come,  the  classics  will 
assist,  dry-eyed,  at  the  obse- 
quies of  the  press.  The  assump- 
tion of  a  pompous  responsi- 
bility, the  constant  search  after 
sensation,  the  lack  of  con- 
tinuity in  thought  and  style, 
will  presently  involve  journal- 
ism in  disgrace.  Meanwhile, 
until  its  shortcomings  be  plainly 
revealed,  journalism  has  what 
may  be  a  dangerous  influence 
upon  the  people,  and  it  is 
important  that  the  journalist 
should  be  able  to  express  accu- 
rately what  he  means.  Whither 
should  he  turn  if  not  to  the 
classics  ?  "If  Latin  and  Greek 
provide  an  incomparable  train- 
ing in  the  exact  and  skilful  use 
of  language,"  says  the  report, 
"it  is  plainly  desirable  that 
the  journalist  should  have 
studied  these  languages,  and 
that  with  a  thoroughness  which 
can  only  be  attained  at  the 
cost  of  much  time  and  pains." 
It  is  a  counsel  of  perfection, 
and  yet  it  suggests  the  only 
course  which  the  journalist  can 
take,  if  he  is  not  to  lose  utterly 
the  respect  and  confidence  of 
the  public,  upon  whose  igno- 
rance and  excitability  he  has 
been  taught  to  rely. 

Thus  at  the  very  moment 
when  Greek  is  dead  and  Latin 
dying,  there  is  a  general 
concensus  of  opinion — commer- 
cial, scientific,  and  historical — 
that  the  classical  languages  are 
still,  as  they  have  been  for 
years,  the  soundest  means  of 


1921.] 


Greek  Literature  for  the  GreeTcless. 


421 


education.  The  countries  which 
have  discarded  them  are  sitting 
in  the  sackcloth  and  ashes  of 
repentance.  Eepublican France, 
where  education  and  politics 
are  inextricably  interwoven,  has 
already  discovered  the  loss  in- 
flicted upon  it  by  the  abolition 
of  Greek  and  Latin.  The  men 
of  letters  who  are  still  the 
glory  of  France  have  presented 
petitions  to  the  Government, 
begging  that  the  classics  should 
be  restored,  lest  the  injury 
done  to  French  prose  become 
irreparable.  The  journalists  of 
France,  hitherto  reported  the 
best  of  their  craft  in  Europe, 
have  fallen  into  evil  ways  since 
the  restraint  of  Latin  and  Greek 
has  been  removed  from  them. 
They  have  neglected  the  stern 
rules  of  grammar  ;  they  have 
forgotten  the  meanings  and  the 
histories  of  words  ;  they  mix 
their  metaphors  with  a  shame- 
less contempt  of  sense  and 
sound.  Nothing  can  save  them 
except  a  reversion  to  the  old 
obedience,  a  renewed  respect 
for  the  lofty  example  of  the 
classics.  And  hitherto  M.  Bar- 
res  and  his  friends,  trained  in 
a  better  school,  have  appealed 
in  vain  to  the  severe  tradition 
of  the  past.  Greek  and  Latin 
are  but  memories.  Popular 
professors  lecture  at  the  Sor- 
bonne  upon  Aristophanes  to 
eager  auditors  who  will  never 
read  a  word  of  Greek.  And 
the  French  prose  of  the  jour- 
nals degenerates  into  a  jargon. 
The  same  story  comes  to  us 
from  America.  In  the  United 
States,  education  has  become 
the  plaything  of  the  democracy. 


Undisciplined  students  vote  for 
what  they  shall  learn,  as  they 
vote  for  candidates  at  an  elec- 
tion, and  the  result  is  a  failure 
in  understanding  and  intelli- 
gence. Even  the  professors  of 
science  acknowledge  that  a 
study  of  the  classics  is  the 
soundest  groundwork  of  re- 
search, and  are  joining  the 
politicians  in  the  demand  for 
a  return  to  the  ancient  ways 
of  Latin  and  Greek.  Thus, 
had  we  listened,  we  might 
long  ago  have  heard  warning 
voices  at  home  and  abroad ; 
but  the  demagogues  won  the 
day,  and  are  at  last  rejoicing 
in  the  spectacle  of  an  England, 
Greekless,  as  Scotland  is  Greek- 
less. 

~No  wonder  the  Committee 
appointed  by  Mr  Lloyd  George 
considers  the  prospect  disquiet- 
ing. It  finds  that  the  position 
of  Latin  is  precarious,  and  that 
in  the  rare  Secondary  Schools 
in  which  Greek  is  taught,  it  is 
threatened  with  extinction.  It 
finds  also  that  the  Classics, 
now  that  they  have  been  uni- 
versally denounced,  are  la- 
mented even  by  the  foolish 
persons  who  once  attacked 
them.  "  That  it  would  be  a 
national  disaster,"  says  the 
report,  "  if  classical  studies 
were  to  disappear  from  our 
education  or  to  be  confined  to 
a  small  class  of  the  community, 
is  conceded  by  men  of  every 
school."  The  concession  seems 
to  us  to  come  too  late.  It  is 
easy  enough  to  break  a  porce- 
lain bowl  in  pieces.  It  demands 
infinite  skill  and  patience  to 
put  it  together  again ;  and 


422 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Sept. 


even  if  the  work  of  reparation 
be  accomplished,  the  master- 
piece has  lost  in  the  process 
much  of  its  beauty  and  value. 

However,  the  Committee  is 
not  without  resource.  It  makes 
recommendations  not  a  few, 
by  which  it  hopes  to  atone  for 
the  foolish  iconoclasm  of  the 
agitators.  Had  a  deaf  ear 
been  turned  to  the  ignorance 
of  these  agitators,  there  would 
be  no  need  of  recommendations. 
But  it  is  the  habit  of  the 
people  to  yield  to  clamour, 
and  then  to  lament  its  own 
complaisance.  And  the  pros- 
pect of  fighting  the  battle  over 
again  is  not  a  cheering  pros- 
pect. If  the  Education  Depart- 
ment ventured  to  look  upon 
Greek  with  an  amiable  eye, 
it  would  instantly  be  re- 
proached with  extravagance 
and  reaction,  and  shaken  by 
the  panic  fear  of  losing  a 
handful  of  votes,  would  be  in- 
stant in  surrender.  And  what 
the  Committee  recommends  is 
nothing  less  than  to  undo  the 
immediate  past.  The  measures 
to  be  taken,  it  says,  should  be 
directed  towards  the  attain- 
ment of  three  ends  :  (1)  To 
secure  for  the  classics  (Greek 
or  Latin,  or  both)  at  a  suffi- 
ciently early  stage  a  substantial 
position  in  the  general  educa- 
tion of  pupils  in  Public  and 
Secondary  Schools  ;  (2)  to  pro- 
vide full  opportunity  for  all 
pupils  with  the  requisite  tastes 
and  aptitudes  to  carry  the 
study  of  both  languages  to  the 
highest  point  which  they  are 
qualified  to  attain ;  (3)  to 
bring  those  (including  adults) 


who  are  and  must  for  good 
reason  or  of  necessity  remain 
ignorant  of  the  classical  lan- 
guages into  some  contact  with 
the  classical  spirit."  Little 
good,  we  believe,  will  come  of 
attaining  the  third  end.  Were 
the  attainment  of  (1)  and  (2) 
possible,  no  meaures  would 
be  too  arduous  to  be  taken. 
But  is  the  attainment  possible  ? 
Not,  we  think,  until  a  change 
of  heart  has  brought  about  a 
necessary  and  long-hoped-for 
reaction. 

Thus  it  is  that  politicians 
have  fastened  upon  education 
for  their  own,  and  we  shall 
presently  be  involved  in  a 
vicious  circle.  The  teachers 
will  be  appointed  by  the  State, 
the  subjects  in  which  they  give 
instruction  will  be  prescribed 
by  the  State,  and  no  one  will 
be  permitted  to  lift  up  his 
voice  in  school  or  university 
unless  his  views  are  in  harmony 
with  the  Government.  So  learn- 
ing will  be  the  sport  of  political 
preferment,  and  schoolmasters 
and  professors  alike  will  be 
chosen,  not  for  their  scholar- 
ship, but  for  their  political 
opinions.  The  experience  of 
France  reveals  the  prospect 
which  lies  before  us ;  and  if  to 
please  the  radical  voter  we 
have  given  the  coup-de-grdce 
to  what  was  once  an  admirable 
system  of  training,  the  fault 
is  our  own. 

Meanwhile  not  all  those  who 
have  nobly  escaped  from  the 
wicked  lure  of  the  classics  are 
secure  against  the  temptress. 
Some  there  are  to  whom  Greek 
and  Latin  are  dead  indeed, 


1921.] 


An  American  Professor. 


423 


and  who  yet  pretend  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Scarlet 
Women.  Here,  for  instance,  is 
the  late  Professor  Barrett  Wen- 
dell, who  has  left  us  in  '  The 
Traditions  of  European  Litera- 
ture '  (London :  Murray)  a 
proof  of  how  magnificently  a 
professor  who  has  little  Latin 
and  less  Greek  may  mislead 
his  pupils.  Greekless  himself, 
he  expounds  Greek  literature  to 
those,  Greekless  also,  who  under- 
stand not  a  word  of  it,  and 
makes  it  clear  that  the  study 
of  the  classics  had  far  better  be 
left  alone  by  those  who  shrink 
from  its  discipline.  His  book 
might  be  described  as  a  short 
cut  to  the  Loeb  series.  He  is 
unable  to  criticise  an  ancient 
author  until  he  has  seen  him 
in  an  English  version.  He 
accounts  it  a  glory  of  Xenophon 
that  "  the  Cyropsedia  was  early 
included  in  the  Loeb  Classical 
Library."  He  is  forced  to 
limit  his  appreciation  of  Aris- 
tophanes to  a  few  obvious 
remarks  about  the  Frogs,  be- 
cause that  is  the  one  play 
Englished  by  Professor  Gilbert 
Murray,  and  because  he  does 
not  find  accessible  the  works 
of  the  far  greater  translators 
of  Aristophanes  —  Hookham 
Frere,  and  Eogers.  And  so, 
poor  man,  he  could  carry  his 
pupils  only  so  far  as  the  trans- 
lators could  carry  him.  Some- 
times he  shows  a  liberal  spirit. 
Here  is  his  illuminating  com- 
ment upon  Thucydides  :  "  The 
most  readable  English  trans- 
lation is  Jowett's,  but  any  will 
do."  There,  in  a  moment  of 
unconsciousness,  he  lets  out 


the  truth.  "  Any  will  do  !  " 
Dr  Giles  will  do  ;  Bonn  will 
do  ;  any  will  do — in  fact,  so 
long  as  all  you  want  is  to  pre- 
tend a  knowledge  that  is  out 
of  your  reach. 

Above  all,  Professor  Wendell 
desired  to  save  his  pupils  from 
the  sin  of  overwork.  Even 
when  he  suggests  to  them  a 
literary  enterprise  which  seems 
far  beyond  their  power,  he 
hastens  to  guard  them  and 
himself  against  the  charge  of 
excess.  "  To  understand  the 
influence  of  Pindar  on  litera- 
ture," he  says,  "  you  must 
glance  at  one  or  two  of  his  odes 
in  the  original  Greek."  Even 
to  glance  at  the  original  might 
appear  superhuman,  and  Pro- 
fessor Wendell  hastens  to  re- 
assure his  students.  "  There 
is  no  sort  of  need,"  he  tells 
them,  "  that  you  should  know 
even  the  Greek  alphabet."  We 
can  hear  the  sigh  of  relief 
which  went  up  from  every 
corner  of  his  zealous  classroom. 
"  Any  eye  can  soon,  if  not  in- 
stantly, observe,"  such  is  his 
easy  conclusion,  "  that  the  odes 
are  generally  written  in  groups 
of  three  rather  long  stanzas." 
For  that  profound  observation 
not  even  the  Greek  alphabet  is 
necessary,  nor  the  American 
either  for  that  matter ;  and  it 
is  not  clear  why  the  student  of 
literature  should  go  through 
the  drudgery  of  learning  to 
read  any  language  whatsoever. 

From  those  who  would  feign 
an  acquaintance  with  Homer 
he  is  somewhat  more  exacting. 
"  Take  whatever  passage  you 
choose,"  says  he.  "  Bead  it  in 


424 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Sept. 


all  your  English  versions  " — 
Chapman's,  Pope's,  Cowper's, 
Butcher  and  Lang's,  —  "re- 
membering that  different  as  the 
versions  may  seem,  each  stands 
for  the  same  great  original ; 
and  the  composite  effect  will 
begin  to  give  you  a  growing 
sense  of  what  that  original  is 
like."  Will  it,  indeed?  But 
so  great  was  Professor  Wen- 
dell's admiration  of  Homer, 
that  he  would  not  restrain 
his  pupils  from  a  modest  at- 
tempt to  understand  him. 
"  Then,"  he  proceeds,  "  if  you 
know  your  Greek  alphabet,  and 
have  even  a  slight  notion  of 
hexameter  rhythm,  turn  to  the 
original  lines ;  at  least  here 
and  there  they  will  suddenly 
flash  into  the  fulness  of  life, 
which  each  separate  version 
has  attempted,  and  variously 
failed  to  reproduce."  For  Pin- 
dar the  Greek  alphabet  is  un- 
necessary ;  its  use  is  recom- 
mended for  Homer ;  it  does 
not  occur  to  Professor  Wendell 
to  suggest  to  his  pupils  that  a 
little  knowledge  of  the  Greek 
tongue  might  be  yet  more  ser- 
viceable to  those  who  would 
understand  the  masters  of 
Greek  poetry. 

The  truth  is  that  nothing 
seems  to  be  wanted  in  modern 
education  except  a  "  soft  op- 
tion." That  subject  will  be 
most  popular  which  combines 
with  the  biggest  pretence  the 
least  need  of  hard  work. 
"  Greek  without  tears  "  seems 
an  excellent  plan  to  one  who 
was  once  a  professor  of  English 
at  Harvard.  At  all  hazards 
he  was  determined  to  protect 


his  victims  against  the  too 
active  use  of  their  eyes  or 
brains.  When  he  discusses  the 
'  Choephori,'  he  thus  delivers 
himself:  "  To  get  the  full  effect 
you  must  probably  read,  and 
ponder  on,  the  whole  short 
drama."  "  Probably  "  is  a  sad 
concession,  and  the  wretched 
student  cannot  be  expected  to 
find  much  comfort  in  the  word 
"  short."  But  Professor  Wen- 
dell was  on  his  side.  "  The 
Greek  has  in  all  only  one 
thousand  and  seventy-four  lines. 
If  you  lack  time  or  patience 
for  such  reading,  you  may  find 
something  of  the  effect  in  the 
portion  between  the  first  speech 
of  Electra  and  her  full  acknow- 
ledgment that  Orestes  may  be 
near  at  hand."  The  student  of 
Greek  at  third  hand,  then,  may 
lack  the  time  or  the  patience 
to  read  a  thousand  lines  in  a 
crib,  but  when  he  has  been 
shown  the  labour-saving  way, 
he  is  no  doubt  duly  qualified 
to  discuss  the  traditions  of 
European  literature. 

Nor  is  it  every  aspirant  to 
a  classical  education  that  can 
dare  to  face  a  common  crib 
at  all.  And  even  for  him  there 
may  be  a  means  of  escape.  "  In 
more  than  one  aspect,"  writes 
Professor  WendeU,  "  the  '  Com- 
edy of  Errors  '  may  give  us  a 
better  notion  of  what  Plautus 
did  than  we  might  obtain  by 
puzzling  or  nodding  over  direct 
translations  from  his  Latin." 
The  '  Comedy  of  Errors  '  gives 
you  no  notion,  good  or  bad,  of 
what  Plautus  did.  Neverthe- 
less, it  is  interesting  to  know 
that  direct  translations  may  be 


1921.] 


Professor  Wendell's  Absurdities. 


425 


not  less  happily  soporific  in 
their  effects  than  the  base 
originals  themselves  ;  and  if  the 
wretched  student  is  to  escape 
a  too  arduous  life,  he  would  be 
wise  if  he  left  all  literature — 
Greek,  Latin,  and  English — 
sternly  alone. 

From  the  advice  which  Pro- 
fessor Wendell  gives  to  his 
pupils  it  may  be  inferred  that 
his  own  knowledge  of  the  classics 
was  not  profound.  His  judg- 
ments are  a  clear  proof  that 
something  more  is  wanted  for 
the  understanding  of  the  classics 
than  a  familiarity  with  the  Loeb 
series  and  the  works  of  Pro- 
fessor Gilbert  Murray.  This  is 
what  he  says  of  the  personages 
in  the  drama  of  Euripides : 
"  They  are  no  longer  like  Peri- 
clean,  Phidian,  Sophoclean 
ideals ;  in  their  veins  runs 
something  like  the  blood  of 
life."  What  nonsense  is  this  ! 
Was  there,  then,  not  the  blood 
of  life  in  the  veins  of  Pericles, 
when  he  directed  the  policy 
of  Athens,  and  delivered  the 
famous  oration  in  honour  of 
those  who  gave  their  lives  for 
their  country  ?  Did  any  sculp- 
tor ever  live  and  work  upon 
the  earth  who  breathed  a 
quicker  life  and  movement  in- 
to his  lifeless  marble  than  did 
Phidias  in  the  sculptured  figures 
of  the  Parthenon  ?  And  does 
nothing  "  like  the  blood  of 
life  "  dominate  the  heroes  of 
Sophocles'  dramas  ?  Is  Odys- 
seus in  the  '  Philoctetes,'  for 
instance,  dead  or  a  phantom  f 
But  we  must  not  press  Pro- 
fessor Wendell  too  far.  The 
pursuit  of  truth  is  arduous  ; 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXXI. 


it  may  involve  nodding  over  a 
"  direct  translation  "  ;  and  as 
for  the  works  of  Phidias,  though 
their  appreciation  does  not  in- 
volve a  knowledge  of  the  Greek 
alphabet,  yet  some  of  them  lack 
noses,  and  others  legs,  and 
there's  an  end  of  them. 

Wherever  you  turn  in  Pro- 
fessor Wendell's  pages  you  will 
find  the  blind  leadership  of  the 
blind.  "  The  literal  meaning  of 
the  Greek  word  Idyl,"  we  are 
told,  "  is  almost  exactly  what 
a  glimpse  means  in  English," 
which  is  absurd.  Equally  ab- 
surd is  it  to  talk  of  "fascinat- 
ing prettiness  "  in  relation  to 
Theocritus.  What  can  be  said 
of  such  a  statement  as  this : 
"Caesar's '  Commentaries '  appear 
to  us  almost  as  primal  as  the 
hexameters  of  Homer  seem." 
Surely  it  is  asking  too  much  of 
pupils,  who  are  not  capable  of 
learning  the  Greek  alphabet, 
to  unravel  or  explain  such  a 
sentence  as  that  ?  And  why 
should  it  be  worth  saying  that 
"to  both  Lucretius  and  Catullus, 
as  their  allusions  indicate,  the 
native  traditions  of  Borne  were 
no  less  familiar  than  the  exotic 
traditions  of  Greece  f  "  What 
was  there  in  the  genius  of  Lu- 
cretius and  Catullus  that  they 
should  be  unconscious  of  the 
Eome  which  was  their  mother 
city  ?  And  could  not  Professor 
Wendell  have  discovered,  even 
from  a  translation,  that  Apu- 
leius  does  not  survive  "  only 
by  reason  of  the  skill  with 
which  he  retells,  as  a  long 
episodic  story,  the  world-old 
legend  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  "  ? 
Bather  is  that  episode,  admir- 
Q 


426 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Sept. 


able  in  itself,  an  artistic  blot 
upon  the  '  Golden  Ass,'  whose 
action  it  interrupts  and  whose 
balance  it  disturbs. 

It  would  not  be  worth  while 
to  spend  so  much  time  upon 
Professor  Wendell's  book  if 
it  did  not  reveal  the  sad  re- 
sult of  abolishing  the  human- 
ities. Those  who  profess  a 
hatred  of  the  classics  dare  not 
abandon  them  altogether,  and 
in  the  very  moment  of  con- 
demning them  they  pretend  to 
a  knowledge  of  them  which 
they  do  not  possess.  It  thus 
becomes  a  matter  not  of  scholar- 
ship but  of  morals.  It  supple- 
ments ignorance  by  a  kind  of 
intellectual  hypocrisy.  The 
harm  actively  done  by  Pro- 
fessor Wendell's  book  is  that 
it  persuades  the  foolish  ones 
who  read  it  to  affect  a  famili- 
arity with  Greek  literature  when 
they  are  carefully  guarded  from 
learning  even  the  shapes  of 
the  letters  in  the  Greek  alpha- 
bet. If  the  classics  are  to  be 
abolished,  let  there  be  made  a 
clean  sweep  of  them.  Don't 
let  us  follow  the  advice,  rashly 
given  by  the  framers  of  the 
report  addressed  to  Mr  Lloyd 
George,  "to  bring  those  (includ- 
ing adults)  who  are  and  must 
for  good  reason  or  of  necessity 
remain  ignorant  of  the  classical 
languages,  into  some  contact 
with  the  classical  spirit."  The 
classical  spirit,  or  contact  with 
it,  implies  discipline,  and  Profes- 
sor Wendell  has  shown  us  that, 
if  Greek  and  Latin  be  studied, 
according  to  his  formula,  in 
English  versions  alone,  nothing 
will  come  of  it  save  misunder- 


standing and  pretentiousness. 
His  method  recalls  to  us  a 
famous  jest  of  Verlaine's.  When 
the  French  poet  was  appointed 
a  teacher  of  English  in  a  French 
college  :  "I  can't  teach  you 
English,"  said  he,  "but  I 
can  teach  you  something  which 
may  be  of  yet  greater  service 
to  you.  I  can  teach  you  how 
Englishmen  speak  French." 
And  Professor  Wendell  says 
in  effect :  "I  can't  teach  you 
Greek,  but  what  I  can  teach 
you  is  how  the  journeyman- 
translator  turns  Greek  into 
English."  One  business  is  as 
grossly  useless  as  the  other, 
and  Professor  Wendell  lacked 
the  humour  that  softens  the 
jesting  Verlaine  to  our  heart. 
The  demagogues,  having 
taken  in  hand  the  education 
of  the  rising  generation,  are 
now  complaining  that  the  young 
profess  no  interest  in  politics. 
In  the  heyday  of  politics,  when 
the  House  of  Commons  had 
not  yet  degenerated  into  a 
vestry,  a  knowledge  of  the 
classics  was  part  of  the  legis- 
lator's equipment.  An  orator 
was  not  thought  very  much  of 
who  could  not  point  his  moral 
with  a  tag  from  Horace,  or 
adorn  his  tale  with  a  passage 
from  Virgil.  The  habit  of 
quotation  has  disappeared,  and 
with  it  has  disappeared  much 
of  the  wisdom  and  moderation 
which  distinguished  our  de- 
bates and  our  controversies. 
That  the  death  of  the  classics 
will  still  further  degrade  the 
House  of  Commons  is  evident. 
But  if  we  would  discover  why 
the  best  of  our  youth  refrains 


1921.] 


The  Triumph  of  Opportunism. 


427 


from  politics,  we  must  look 
deeper  into  the  facts.  Uni- 
versal suffrage  and  a  weakened 
House  of  Lords  have  left  our 
Constitution  without  safeguards . 
We  have  fallen  into  a  democ- 
racy of  the  fifth  class,  which, 
in  Aristotle's  phrase,  keeps  in 
view  the  interest  of  the  needy, 
and  thinks  little  of  the  common 
good.  Of  this  unamiable  kind 
of  democracy,  corrupt,  self- 
seeking,  cunningly  unscrupu- 
lous, it  has  been  said  that 
it  prefers  fraud  to  force.  It 
may  also  be  said  that  the  best 
of  men  would  still  prefer  force 
to  fraud.  And,  such  as  it  is, 
modern  democracy  does  not 
and  cannot  attract  to  its  aid 
the  honest  and  the  generous 
among  the  youth  of  to-day. 
Who,  indeed,  will  care  to  serve 
his  country,  if  he  be  told  that 
the  most  he  can  hope  for  is  to 
replace  strength  by  wiliness, 
to  achieve  what  he  believes  to 
be  right  by  no  other  means 
than  the  means  of  chicanery  ? 
Now  it  is  the  business  of 
young  men  to  see  visions  and 
to  dream  dreams.  They  have 
not  learned,  happily,  to  hide 
their  ideals  behind  a  mist  of 
cynical  levity.  And  unless  he 
be  frivolous  and  heartless — 
unless,  in  brief,  he  have  di- 
vested^himself  of  the  virtues  of 
youth — no  man  shall  cut  any 
sort  of  figure  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  We  have  been  told 
by  the  most  highly  dis- 
tinguished of  our  elder  states- 
men that  politics  is  no  affair 
of  morals,  that  it  is  wholly 
divorced  from  principle  ;  and 
surely  the  history  of  the  last 


few  years  proves  that  elder 
statesman  to  be  right  in  prac- 
tice, if  shamelessly  wrong  in 
theory.  The  House  of  Com- 
mons has  flouted  principle  :  it 
smiles  with  a  smile  of  indulgent 
contempt  upon  the  old-fash- 
ioned morality.  Its  one  and 
only  God  is  Opportunity.  It 
no  longer  aspires  to  serve  the 
country,  but  to  keep  its  seats 
and  its  places.  He  is  the  finest 
statesman  who  best  knows  how 
to  seize  Opportunity  by  the 
forelock.  He  who  collars  the 
machine  and  keeps  a  majority 
of  votes  in  his  pocket  is  des- 
tined to  rule  over  a  confused 
disheartened  country.  Success 
depends  upon  adaptability,  and 
there  is  nothing  less  easily 
adaptable  to  circumstances 
than  principle,  unless  it  be 
a  rigid  system  of  morals.  The 
first  duty  of  the  politician  is 
to  eat  the  words  to-day  which 
he  spoke  yesterday,  and  eat 
them  not  with  a  wry  face,  but 
with  the  look  of  triumphant 
satisfaction  which  an  epicure 
wears  when  he  is  bidden  to  a 
banquet. 

It  is  upon  Opportunism  that 
the  grandeur  of  our  present 
governors  is  proudly  based.  Mr 
Lloyd  George,  the  one  type  and 
exemplar  of  the  demagogues, 
has  no  views :  he  borrows 
what  he  wants  from  the  voters. 
He  does  not  make  his  own 
speeches  :  he  lays  that  pleasant 
task  upon  his  audiences.  And 
thus  it  is  that  he  comes  forth 
as  the  perfect  Opportunist, 
wayward  and  various.  The 
men  of  principle  cannot  follow 
him,  because  he  will  confute 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Sept.  1921. 


to-morrow  the  opinions  he  ex- 
presses to-day.  Now  he  is  on 
the  side  of  France,  now  he 
buckles  the  friendly  German 
to  his  capacious  breast.  Now 
with  a  shake  of  his  leonine 
locks  and  with  his  empty, 
half-ingratiating  smile,  he  de- 
clares loudly  that  he  will  take 
murder  by  the  throat.  Now 
he  purrs,  with  a  feline  ami- 
ability, as  he  grasps  the  last 
murderer  of  his  acquaintance 
by  the  hand.  It  is  not  sur- 
prising that  the  French  dis- 
trust him,  since  he  is  all  things 
always  to  all  men.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  honest  Unionists  can 
have  no  confidence  in  him, 
since  he  is  ready,  without 
cause  or  provocation,  to  make 
terms  with  rebels  and  assassins, 
to  greet  as  equal  colleagues 
the  murderers  of  women. 
His  paid  supporters,  on  the 
other  hand,  are  never  likely 
to  desert  him,  because  he  knows 
far  better  than  they  how  to 
keep  them  all  together,  and 
to  ensure  the  punctual  payment 
of  their  salaries. 

Under  such  a  leader  generous 
youth  can  never  serve.  For 
youth  still  clings  honourably 
to  principle ;  it  is  still  willing 
to  die  for  a  cause,  to  sacrifice 


its  career  or  its  life  in  the 
service  of  its  country.  And 
then  comes  the  arch-politician 
to  youth,  and  whispers  in  its 
ear  :  "  Give  me  your  support, 
and  I  will  ensure  you  power  and 
place.  Without  my  help  you 
can  do  nothing.  With  your 
aid  I  can  govern  the  world, 
and  so  long  as  I  govern  the 
world,  your  pocket  need  never 
be  empty."  And  the  young 
man  puts  behind  him  the  arch- 
politician  and  his  insidious 
bribes,  and  caring  only  for  the 
fair  name  of  England,  is  sent 
about  his  business  at  the  next 
election.  He  goes  without  com- 
plaint or  regret.  For  he  knows 
that  the  House  of  Commons  is 
no  meet  place  for  him.  And 
Opportunity  and  her  slaves 
flourish  exceedingly,  and  there 
is  not  a  candid  politician  of 
them  all  who  does  not  know 
perfectly  well  why  the  young 
of  this  generation  abhor  the 
trade  of  politics,  and  not  one 
who  cares  a  jot  whether  the 
young  come  into  the  game  or 
stay  outside.  At  least  they 
are  certain  that  cynicism  will 
win  an  easy  victory  for  them 
over  principle,  and  that  since 
resignation  went  out  of  fashion 
it  is  "  all  for  quarter  day." 


Printed  "by  William  Blackwood  and  Sons. 


BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE. 


No.  MCCLXXII. 


OCTOBBE  1921. 


VOL.  OCX. 


HEATHER  MIXTURE. 


BY  KLAXON. 


CHAPTER  HI. 


TRAINS  going  north  on  the 
morning  of  the  llth  August 
would  be  fitting  objects  of 
Sinn  Fein  raids.  Every  second 
passenger  carries  a  gun-case, 
and  most  of  the  gun-cases 
carry  two  guns.  Each  pas- 
senger views  his  luggage  past 
the  "  excess  weight  "  official — 
and  that  dignitary  runs  a  care- 
less and  perfunctory  glance  over 
each  barrow-load  of  suit-cases, 
and  then  lingers  awhile  over 
the  checking,  in  order  to  enjoy 
the  spectacle  of  the  canny 
owner  standing  by  —  a  case 
of  four  hundred  cartridges  in 
each  hand,  beads  of  sweat 
upon  his  brow,  and  a  look  of 
pain  stealing  through  the  mask 
of  careless  ease  that  he  wears. 
One  sees  stout  and  well-fed 
gentlemen  travelling  then,  who 
must  either  die  next  day  or 


else  must  be  carried  in  cars 
right  up  to  the  doors  of  their 
butts.  The  well-known  makers' 
names  on  the  gun-cases  would 
indeed  give  old  Marshal 
Bliicher  cause  to  cry,  "  What 
a  train  to  loot !  "  Altogether, 
those  trains  are  worth  looking 
at ;  but  if  you  are  bound  for 
the  North  yourself,  and  feel 
healthy  and  fit  and  haven't 
forgotten  your  guns,  cartridges, 
or  shirt-studs,  it  is  a  more 
delightful  experience  still. 

Dicky  arrived  early,  and  dug 
himself  in  in  a  detached  seat 
of  an  empty  smoking  carriage. 
To  him  at  intervals  there  en- 
tered, first  a  lean  and  brown 
man  wearing  tweeds,  a  military 
moustache,  and  a  small  piece 
of  plaster  on  the  second  finger 
of  his  right  hand  (just  where 
the  trigger-guard  bruises  if  you 


Copyrighted  in  the  United  States  of  America. 
VOL.   OCX. — NO.   MCCLXXII.  R 


430 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


fire  too  many  rounds  at  a 
shooting-school,  and  your  gun 
is  not  a  perfect  fit).  Dicky 
decided  that  he  must  own  his 
own  shoot,  that  his  guns  were 
either  at  home  or  had  been 
sent  on  by  the  makers  after 
alterations  to  the  grip,  and 
that  he  was  probably  an  ener- 
getic host  and  a  curse  to  guests 
who  were  out  of  condition. 
Then  arrived  a  profiteer  in  a 
check  suit  and  a  suede  waist- 
coat ;  rotund,  resplendent,  and 
of  the  earth,  earthy.  A  de- 
pressed and  unhappy  footman 
placed  three  hundred  guineas 
worth  of  guns  in  a  new  case 
on  the  rack,  listened  respect- 
fully to  a  growl  from  his  lord, 
and  departed  towards  the 
guard's  van.  Five  minutes 
later  the  train  started — not 
suddenly  and  jerkily,  as  a  local 
train  would,  but  with  the  gent- 
lest of  acceleration,  almost  im- 
perceptibly working  up  to  its 
steady  average  of  fifty  miles 
an  hour.  Dicky  watched  the 
country  slide  past,  and  won- 
dered what  sort  of  a  land  it 
was  he  was  bound  for.  He 
had  never  stayed  in  Yorkshire 
yet,  and  had  only  seen  grouse 
moors  from  a  train  window. 
The  lean  man  read  '  Punch,' 
and  the  stout  one  studied  the 
other  two.  Half  an  hour  out 
of  London,  the  stout  one  made 
up  his  mind  that,  of  the  pair 
opposite  him,  Dicky  looked 
the  more  prosperous  and  the 
more  worthy  of  his  attention. 
He  moved  along  the  seat  a 
little  and  spoke. 

"  Going    shooting,    I    see — 
young  man  ?  " 


Dicky  was  never  rude  to 
any  one,  and  never  hurt  any- 
body's feelings  if  he  could 
help  it.  He  did  not  want  to 
enter  into  a  discussion  with  a 
stranger  just  then — he  wanted 
to  enjoy  his  own  thoughts ; 
but  he  was  quite  ready  to  be 
polite.  "Yes,"  he  said;  "it 
looks  good  weather  for  it, 
doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  Ugh — um.  You're  going 
to  a  small  place,  I  see. — Eh  ? 
one  gun — ugh." 

Dicky  glanced  up  at  the 
rack.  He  had  a  gun  in  a  single 
case  up  there,  and  the  stout 
man  had  not  noticed  the  other 
under  the  seat.  He  was  only 
carrying  two  guns  in  case  one 
went  wrong,  but  it  did  not  seem 
worth  while  to  argue  about 
such  points. 

"  Ugh — my  shoot — my  Lig- 
ginoyle  shoot — seven  thousand 
brace — must  use  two  guns — 
ugh." 

Dicky  felt  the  devil  of  temp- 
tation enter  him.  "  Indeed  * 
Two  guns  ?  You  always  use 
two  ?  " 

"  Um — ugh — two  guns.  Why 
don't  you  go  to  a  good  moor, 
eh  t  If  you're  going  to  do  a 
thing,  do  it  well,  I  say.  What 
moor  are  you  going  to  ?  " 

Dicky  dropped  all  ideas  of 
being  good.  "  Gallidale,"  he 
replied  simply. 

Even  the  lean  man  in  the 
other  corner  showed  a  flicker 
of  interest,  and  the  big  man 
sat  back.  "  Ugh,  what  ?  Duke 
o'  Wardale's  ?  "  he  said. 

Dick  raised  his  eyebrows 
slightly.  "  I  believe  so,"  he 
said. 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


431 


There  was  a  short  pause, 
and  Dicky  studied  the  scenery 
again.  "Ugh — good  moor  that. 
King  shoots  there,  eh  ?  " 

"  His  Majesty  ?  Not  to- 
morrow —  next  week,  I  be- 
lieve." 

"  Good  shot,  eh  *  " 

"  Very  good,  yes  ;  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  watch  him." 

The  big  man's  eyelids  drooped 
a  little,  and  he  watched  Dicky's 
face  narrowly  for  a  few  seconds. 
"  But  you've  only  brought  one 
gun,  eh  ?  They  use  two  guns 
at  Gallidale.  ..." 

Dicky  started  and  felt  under 
the  seat.  "  Guns  ?  Oh  yes, 
they're  here — you  gave  me  a 
fright ;  it's  all  right  —  my 
loaders  have  got  the  others." 

"  Loaders  ?  How  many 
loaders  do  you  use  ?  " 

"  Only  two.  You  want  three 
guns  this  month,  I  always 
think." 

A  short  pause.  "  You  shot 
there  often,  sir  f  " 

Dicky  gave  a  weary  smile. 
"  Since  I  could  carry .fajgun, 
yes,"  he  said. 

"  You'll  see  some  big  bags 
there,  eh  ?  Good  shots  too  ? 
What's  the  Duke  like  ?  " 

"  Which  Duke  ?  Oh— War- 
dale,  yes  ;  a  good  shot,  I  think. 
A  little  erratic  sometimes." 

"  Ah  !  So  am  I  sometimes. 
There's  days  when  I  can't 
hardly  hit  a  thing." 

"  Exactly.  I  remember  one 
day  seeing  him  take  a  hundred 
shots  to  kill  eighty-six  birds. 
It  was  windy,  of  course,  but 
in  spite  of  excuses,  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  such  a  perform- 
ance." 


"  Ugh — urn — but,  you  know, 
I  wouldn't  call  that — eighty- 
six  birds  in  a  hundred  cart- 
ridges, you  said  ? — that's  not 
bad,  you  know.  ..." 

"  Not  bad  ?  Damn  bad  for 
October,  I  call  it,"  said  Dicky 
brazenly. 

The  lean  man  put  his  '  Punch' 
down  and  looked  out  of  the 
window.  He  was  undoubtedly 
listening  carefully  now. 

"  Ugh — good  shot  yourself, 
I  take  it  ?  " 

"  I  ?  No,  I  have  no  prac- 
tice." 

"  Plenty  at  Gallidale, 
though  1  " 

"  No — no-o I  don't  call 

Gallidale  practice — birds  too 
easy  there,  I  think.  Five 
thousand  shots  in  August  and 
no  real  practice  in  any  of  them. 
I  don't  go  to  Hammerstone  till 
September  usually,  but  birds 
are  better  there " 

"  Hammerstone  ?  Um — Gill- 
son's  rich,  ain't  he  ?  " 

"  Mr  Gillson  ?  I  don't  know. 
I  think  he's  a  fairly  wealthy 
man,  but  I  don't  know.  ..." 

"  But  you  stay  with  him, 
eh?  " 

"Or  he  stays  with  me.  My 
little  place  marches  with  Ham- 
merstone." 

"  Ah — good  place,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  like  it." 

"  Ugh — now  I  wonder  where 
that'll  be  from  me  ?  I  might 
be  running  past  in  the  car — 
one  of  my  cars " 

"  Indeed  1  You  keep  many 
in  Yorkshire  ?  " 

"  Um — yes,  two — Bolls,  of 
course." 

"  I  don't  like  them." 


432 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


"  Ugh. — Eh  ?  good  car — best 
car,  ain't  it  f  " 

"  A  little  common,  isn't  it  ? 
Of  course  it's  all  right  in  the 
country." 

"  What  do  you  use,  eh  ?  " 

Dicky  was  getting  a  little 
bored,  and  as  a  result,  a  trifle 
reckless.  "  I  have  mine  made 
for  me,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
only  three  stock  cars  in  my 
stable — Lanchesters — no,  four. 
My  own  cars  are  made  for  me 
by  Scotts." 

There  was  a  tense  silence, 
while  an  acute  financial  brain 
worked  through  all  the 
"Scotts"  it  could  think  of. 
The  Clyde  ?  Oysters  ?  More 
oysters  ? — A  uniformed  figure 
appeared  at  the  door.  "  First 
lunch  ready,  gentlemen  !  " 

Dicky  jumped  up  and  fled. 
He  felt  that  mental  relaxation 
was  what  he  needed,  and  a 
solitary  lunch  might  help  him. 
He  passed  swiftly  along  the 
swaying  corridors  to  the  dining- 
car,  and  slipped  into  a  seat  at 
the  farthest  end.  He  found 
himself  next  door  to  an  elderly 
clergyman,  possibly  a  Dean  or 
Canon  (but  Dicky  was  not  well 
up  in  the  badges  of  rank  used 
by  the  clergy,  and  had  to 
make  a  guess  at  it).  There 
was  a  vacant  space  at  the 
other  side  of  the  table,  and 
Dicky  prayed  that  his  late 
interlocutor  would  not  occupy 
it.  His  suspense  was  relieved 
by  the  arrival  of  the  lean  man, 
who  took  one  of  the  vacant 
chairs,  and  proceeded  to  study 
a  blue-book  of  ministerial  ap- 
pearance while  waiting  for  the 
waiter's  attention.  Except  for 


occasional  murmurs  on  the  sub- 
ject of  cruet-supply  and  other 
necessary  interchanges,  the 
meal  was  consumed  by  the 
three  in  that  Sabbatical  re- 
serve which  is  the  backbone 
of  English  social  life.  Dicky 
was  a  little  unhappy.  He  knew 
that  the  lean  man,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  elderly,  decent- 
looking,  and  who  might  be 
a  retired  General,  had  heard 
a  good  deal  of  his  talk  in 
the  compartment,  and  Dicky 
wished  earnestly  for  an  oppor- 
tunity of  assuring  him  that 
the  whole  thing  had  been  a 
joke.  Once  or  twice  he  felt 
the  grey  eyes  opposite  studying 
him,  and  several  times  he  came 
near  to  stammering  an  ex- 
planation. 

The  clergyman  paid  his  bill 
and  left.  The  waiter  hovered 
at  hand  with  Dicky's  bill  on 
a  tray.  Dicky  looked  up  and 
took  a  deep  breath. 

"  Good  shooting  weather,  I 
think.  What  moor  are  you 
bound  f  or  ?  "  asked  the  lean 
man  suddenly. 

"  Beckside,  sir.  Do  you 
know  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  a  good  moor,  and  I 
believe  they've  done  well  this 
summer.  You're  staying  with 
Hansard  ?  " 

"Yes  —  for  a  few  days — 
I  was  only  pulling  that 
chap's " 

"  I  know.  He  asked  me 
just  now  where  I  got  my 
clothes,  and  hinted  they  were 
hardly  new,  a  fact  of  which  I 
was  comfortably  aware.  I  was 
much  amused  at  your  talk, 
and  I  think  you  kept  your 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


433 


end  up  very  well.  He's  coming 
in  to  lunch  now,  and  I  know 
he  changes  at  York,  so  you 
won't  have  much  more  of  him." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  you  spoke 
about  it,  because  my  conscience 
was  giving  me  trouble ;  I 
thought  you  might " 

"  Oh  no.  I  enjoyed  it. 
My  lists  of  guests  are  made 
up  for  some  way  ahead,  or  I 
would  ask  you  to  come  over 
for  a  day  before  you  leave. 
You  would  only  have  had 
twenty  miles  to  come." 

"  That's  very  kind  of  you, 
sir — but  I  expect  to  be  moving 
south  again  in  a  week.  Which 
is  your  moor  ?  " 

The  lean  man  rose  to  go, 
and  his  reply  came  down  to 
Dicky  like  a  big  shell  from  a 
far  country — "  The  one  your 
friend  was  so  interested  in — 
GaUidale.  .  .  ." 

Arthur  Sanfield  Hansard  had, 
in  his  legal  days,  been  note- 
worthy as  being  the  least  pro- 
mising of  all  the  lawyers  east  of 
Trafalgar  Square.  The  death 
of  an  uncle  in  1912  had  given 
him  possession  of  two  fresh 
assets — a  coal-mine  and  an 
estate  in  Yorkshire.  The  pro- 
ceeds from  the  mine  were 
considerable  (especially  during 
the  war),  and  enabled  him  not 
only  to  pay  for  the  upkeep  of 
the  estate,  but  to  enter  Parlia- 
ment. His  reverential  respect 
for  those  politically  in  authority 
over  him,  and  his  loyal  sub- 
mission to  the  Whips  of  that 
party  which,  in  his  opinion, 
was  likely  to  be  of  most  use 
to  him  in  his  public  career, 


had  early  singled  him  out  as 
worthy  of  trust  and  advance- 
ment. He  had  at  the  time  at 
which  Dicky  met  him  risen 
to  the  rank  of  unpaid  secretary 
to  the  Secretary  of  Coal  Out- 
put, and  although  his  financial 
status  was  not  as  high,  owing 
to  labour  unrest,  as  it  might 
otherwise  have  been,  yet  his 
official  position  gave  him  an 
excellent  opportunity  of  guid- 
ing the  coal  policy  of  the 
nation  into  channels  which 
would  tend  to  stabilise  the 
great  basic  industry  on  which 
so  much  of  the  world's  happi- 
ness depends. 

He  had  married  early  in  life, 
and  had  early  educated  bis 
spouse  into  that  state  of  domes- 
ticity— once  so  usual,  but  now, 
alas  !  so  infrequently  met  with 
— which  recognises  that  the 
father  of  the  family  is  he  on 
whom  the  happiness  of  all 
depends — whose  comfort  is  the 
chief  care  of  all — and  whose 
personality  is  paramount  in 
his  own  circle.  It  is  doubtful, 
however,  if  he  had  been  able 
(possibly  his  enforced  absences 
on  Parliamentary  work  may 
have  been  responsible)  to  im- 
press this  sound  family  creed 
upon  his  two  daughters.  Phyl- 
lis, the  elder,  aged  twenty-six, 
seemed  to  have  inherited  a 
little  of  her  father's  spirit. 
She  was  like  him — tall,  dark, 
and  a  trifle  angular.  She 
seemed  to  him  to  be  more 
attentive  to  her  own  amuse- 
ments in  the  London  season 
than  to  the  serious  matters  of 
life.  She  certainly  was  of 
assistance  to  him  in  her  careful 


434 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


choice  of  those  of  the  political 
world  whom  she,  in  her  mother's 
absence,  assisted  to  entertain  in 
London.  Her  knowledge  of  the 
important  social  side  of  Gov- 
ernment was  profound,  and 
she  made  an  excellent  listener 
to  his  younger  political  guests. 
Yet  he  could  frequently  note 
in  her  a  trace  of  selfishness 
which  surprised  him,  as,  except 
for  occasional  minor  matters, 
he  had  never  connected  selfish- 
ness with  the  gentle  disposition 
of  his  wife.  He  would  have 
welcomed  a  good  suitor  for 
Phyllis,  partly  because  she  was 
at  times  a  thorn  on  the  rose  of 
his  comfort,  but  chiefly  because 
she  had  arrived  at  an  age 
when  the  possibility  arose  of 
her  having  to  remain  single 
indefinitely. 

Elsie  was  a  pietty  and  well- 
proportioned  girl  of  twenty- 
three,  of  whom  her  father  was 
immensely  proud.  Few  girls 
starting  from  such  mediocre 
social  platforms  had  been  so 
successful  in  advancing  from 
the  mere  ruck  of  debutantes. 
At  the  age  of  nineteen  she  had 
begun  to  appear  photographic- 
ally in  those  pictorial  weeklies 
which  feature  the  appearances 
of  Society  leaders  in  classical 
costume.  At  this  date  she 
actually  rivalled  the  best- 
formed  of  our  British  actresses 
in  her  claims  on  the  centre 
pages  of  those  periodicals,  and 
had  been  practically  continuous 
in  her  appearances  at  charity 
matinees  throughout  the  war. 
Her  figure  was  charming  and 
her  mental  capacity  small — in 
her  father's  opinion,  in  fact, 


she  was  a  most  desirable  wife 
for  anybody.  Yet,  in  spite  of 
her  undoubted  social  success, 
and  of  the  fact  that  none  who 
had  seen  her  on  the  private 
stage  or  photographically  repro- 
duced in  her  favourite  poses 
could  plead  ignorance  of  her 
anatomical  perfection,  only  a 
series  of  rumours  had  as  yet 
connected  her  with  accredited 
fiance's.  Her  father  had  recently 
spoken  earnestly  to  her  on  this 
delicate  subject,  reminding  her 
that  she  was  approaching  an 
age  when  she  should  seriously 
consider  her  future,  and  put- 
ting it  to  her  that  any  suitor 
whose  position  and  probable 
future  were  assured  would,  to 
him,  be  persona  grata.  Elsie, 
after  a  study  of  the  current 
issue  of  '  La  Vie  Parisienne,' 
had  decided  that  there  was 
little  she  could  do  that  she  had 
not  already  done,  and  that  her 
best  method  of  obeying  her 
parents'  well-weighed  injunc- 
tions was  to  continue  along 
those  lines  which  had  for  five 
years  held  her  in  the  ranks  of 
fame. 

Dicky  arrived  at  Beckside 
Station  at  five  o'clock,  and  was 
at  once  accosted  by  a  chauffeur 
who  looked  just  what  he  was 
— a  family  coachman  who  had 
found  it  advisable  to  move  with 
the  times  and  learn  to  handle 
cars  as  well  as  horses.  To- 
gether they  collected  the  lug- 
gage and  moved  out  to  the 
station-yard.  A  hoarse  whisper 
from  the  ex-coachman  apprised 
Dicky  of  the  fact  that  Miss 
Phyllis  Hansard  was  to  be  his 
companion  for  the  drive,  and 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


435 


he  hastily  dumped  his  gun- 
cases  on  the  running-board  in 
order  to  greet  her.  She  threw 
half  the  rug  across  his  knees 
as  the  car  moved  off,  and 
studied  him  in  silence  for  a 
while. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  to 
Yorkshire  before  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No — it  looks  a  fine  country 
— do  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Not  as  much  as  London. 
You  see,  we  poor  women  haven't 
the  capacity  for  sport  that  you 
have.  We  find  it  dull  doing 
nothing." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  you  do. 
You  don't  shoot  t  " 

"No.  My  sister  and  I  come 
out  with  the  guns — that  is,  if 
the  guns  do  not  mind ;  but 
I  don't  think  women  ought  to 
shoot — do  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  there's  no  reason  why 
they  shouldn't.  They  do  most 
things  nowadays " 

"  That's  a  very  trite  remark, 
Mr  Fancett,  but  it  is  wrong. 
Women  cannot  do  the  work  of 
soldiers  and  sailors  yet." 

"  Oh  !  They  can.  I've  seen 
women  soldiers  in  the  White 
armies  in  Eussia,  a  whole 
company  of  'em.  They  marched 
pretty  well,  too." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  call  them 
civilised  or  educated  women, 
would  you  ?  " 

"  No-o — perhaps  not.  They 
looked  pretty  awful." 

"  Have  you  read  Arnold- 
Bennett  on  Sex  Discord,  Mr 
Fancett  I  Perhaps  you  have 
strong  views  on  the  subject  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say  I  have.  Not 
theoretical  views,  anyway.  I 
should  think  that  only  feminine 


men  could  understand  women, 
and  masculine  women  under- 
stand men." 

"  Why,  that's  epigrammatic  ! 
Is  that  really  original  ?  " 

Dicky  was  rather  flattered. 
He  had  not  expected  to  be 
taken  as  being  a  brainy  con- 
versationalist, and  had  no  idea 
that  epigrams  were  so  easily 
coined.  The  lady  flowed  on — 

"  Now  I  believe  you're  an 
acquisition  to  our  little  party. 
It  is  so  seldom  we  get  anybody 
in  Yorkshire  who  has  thoughts 
beyond  the  mere  killing  of 
grouse.  You  naval  officers  are 
usually  so — well,  how  can  I 
put  it  without  making  you 
angry  ? — if  I  say  that  I  think 
you  are  an  exception  to  the 
rule,  wouldn't  you  agree  with 
me  that  your  Service  is  just 
a  little  uneducated  ?  " 

Dicky  almost  simpered. 
"  We-e-ell,  Miss  Hansard,  you 
put  it  rather  cruelly,  but  per- 
haps we  are  a  little  narrow  at 
times.  We " 

"  Yes,  I  know  the  apologies 
you'll  make,  but  you  yourself 
prove  what  I  mean.  If  one  of 
you  can  talk  brilliantly  on  any 
topic,  there  is  no  reason  why 
the  others  should  not.  Now, 
here  we  are.  Your  things  will 
go  up  to  your  room,  and  I 
expect  you'll  want  to  see  where 
it  is,  and  then  I'll  give  you  tea. 
I'm  sure  you're  dying  for  it." 

Dicky  passed  into  the  house 
feeling  that  the  elder  Miss 
Hansard  was  not  a  bad  sort. 
She  did  not  seem  to  be  one  of 
the  silly  type  of  women  that 
had  no  ideas  beyond  marriage. 
She  could  talk  freely  and  sen- 


436 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


sibly,  and  he  decided  that  he 
liked  her  frank  way  of  judging 
new  acquaintances.  In  other 
words,  Dicky  was  really  rather 
a  simple  ass. 

Mr  Hansard  met  them  in  the 
hall,  and  gave  Dicky  a  limp 
hand.  "  A  good  journey ?  Very 
glad  you  could  come.  Your 
father  well !  Yes — yes.  You'd 
better  follow  your  luggage,  the 

guns  can  stay  here "  (After 

a  careful  study  of  several  lead- 
ing men,  our  host  had  adopted 
the  brusque  and  staccato  type 
of  speech  ;  it  seemed  to  him 
to  consort  with  his  position. 
The  impression  he  wished  to 
convey  was  that  important 
Cabinet  papers  had  just  arrived, 
and  that  his  mind  was  engaged 
on  their  contents.) 

Dicky  washed,  changed  his 
collar,  and  joined  the  party 
downstairs.  He  was  introduced 
to  Mrs  Hansard,  who  mur- 
mured a  few  inarticulate  words 
and  relapsed  into  her  rdle  of 
patient  listener  to  a  large  stout 
man  with  a  full  beard,  who  was 
apparently  a  neighbour,  a  mine- 
owner,  and  a  privileged  friend 
of  the  family.  Dicky  found  a 
cup  of  tea  in  his  hand,  Phyllis 
at  his  side,  and  Elsie  looking 
up  at  him  from  the  sofa,  where 
she  sat  beside  a  beautifully 
groomed  young  man,  a  man 
who  cultivated  a  very  small 
moustache  and  a  very  large 
monocle. 

"  My  sister — Elsie — and  Cap- 
tain Thwayte, — now  you  know 
everybody.  Now  do  sit  down 
and  have  something  to  eat. 
You  must  be  starving.  But 
perhaps  you'd  like  a  drink  T 


It's  all  there  on  the  little  table 
behind  you " 

"  No,  thanks — really,  Miss 
Hansard.  I  prefer  tea." 

"  You  know,  I  thought  you 
would.  But  I  believe  if  you 
wanted  a  drink  you'd  say  so. 
You  don't  seem  an  indecisive 
person  at  all,  you  know." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  aren't — are  you  ? 
I  can  quote  your  own  words 
at  you.  I  don't  think  I'm  a 
masculine  woman — at  least,  I 
hope  not — but  I  wouldn't  try 
to  analyse  you,  because  I  feel 
you  are  the  sort  of  male  one 
accepts  as  being  too  strong  to 
fight.  No,  that's  put  wrong — 
I  mean.— Yes,  Mr  Playton  ?  " 

The  stout  man  repeated  his 
question.  "  Have  you  seen 
Alice  since  you  came  back 
here  ?  " 

Dicky  took  advantage  of  the 
resulting  cross- questioning  on 
the  subject  of  the  movements 
of  relatives  to  look  across  at 
the  sofa.  It  at  once  struck 
him  that  Elsie  must  be  much 
younger  than  her  sister.  He 
put  her  age  down  as  twenty 
and  Phyllis 's  at  twenty -four. 
Elsie  had  never  in  her  life  been 
seen  in  an  unstudied  attitude, 
and  at  this  moment,  acting 
through  the  influence  of  years 
of  training,  she  leaned  back  on 
the  cushions  looking  like  Cleo- 
patra listening  to  Antony  per- 
forming on  the  lyre.  One  arm 
was  flung  over  the  arm  of  the 
sofa.  She  had  carelessly  crossed 
her  legs,  and  her  head  was  tilted 
at  exactly  the  right  angle  to 
show  her  chin  to  the  best 
advantage.  Dicky  thought  he 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


437 


had  never  seen  such  a  beauti- 
fully formed  girl,  or  one  with 
such  natural  grace.  He  wished 
he  could  hear  the  low-voiced 
conversation  in  progress  be- 
tween her  and  the  man  on  the 
sofa.  He  was  sure  she  would 
have  preferred  his  own  com- 
pany ;  after  all,  her  sister 
might  be  charming,  but 
had  not  one-half  of  her 
looks. 

"  What  was  I  saying  !  Oh 
yes,  I  was  talking  about  you, 
wasn't  I  ?  But  I  won't  do  it 
any  more.  I  shall  study  you 
and  keep  my  conclusions  to 
myself.  Do  have  some  more 
tea " 

"  Thanks  awfully.  But  that 
isn't  fair,  you  know.  You 
ought  to  tell  me  what  conclu- 
sions you  come  to." 

"  Why  should  I  !  You  have 
no  need  for  curiosity.  You  are 
a  man  who  goes  his  own  way 
without  caring  what  other  peo- 
ple think,  and  you  certainly 
don't  care  what  uneducated 
women  think.  Have  I  summed 
you  up,  Mr  Fancett  *?  " 

Dicky  was  looking  at  the 
sofa,  and  he  answered  a  little 
vaguely.  "  Oh — I  don't  know 
— yes,  perhaps  you're  right. . . ." 

Phyllis  was  not  only  quick- 
brained,  but  had  the  clan  spirit 
in  its  most  loyal  form.  With- 
out a  sigh  or  a  sign  of  her 
inward  thoughts  she  chattered 
brightly  along.  "  You  haven't 
met  Captain  Thwayte  before, 
have  you  ?  I  think  you'll  like 
him.  He  isn't  as  effeminate 
as  he  looks,  and  he's  a  very 
fine  shot.  He's  engaged  to  a 
great  friend  of  mine,  and  I'm 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXn. 


very  glad.  They'll  just  suit 
each  other." 

"  His  fiance'e  isn't  here  ?  " 

"  No,  she's  in  London,  but 
she  will  be  coming  here  next 
week."  She  turned  to  look 
out  of  the  window,  and  as  she 
swung  her  neat  head  she  glanced 
at  Dicky's  face.  "It's  still 
quite  light.  I  know  you'd  like 
to  go  out  and  look  up  at  the 
moor.  I  must  talk  to  Mr 
Playton  here,  and  give  mother 
a  chance  to  go  and  talk  to  the 
housekeeper.  I  know  she's 
dying  to.  Elsie,  dear,  our  guest 
is  awfully  keen  to  have  a  look 
at  the  moor  before  dinner. 
Will  you  walk  him  up  the  hill 
a  little  ?  " 

Elsie  turned  her  large  eyes 
on  Dicky  and  smiled.  "  Of 
course.  If  he  won't  walk  me 
too  far.  We'll  get  plenty  of 
walking  to-morrow."  She  rose 
with  all  the  grace  of  a  leopard 
and  moved  towards  the  door. 
"  I'll  just  change  my  shoes, 
and  then  I'm  ready." 

Dicky  leapt  up  and  opened 
the  door  for  her.  As  he  re- 
turned from  the  duty  Phyllis 
smiled  just  a  little  cynically. 

"Won't  you  take  a  cigar- 
ette f  I  don't  think  you  need 
get  your  hat  yet.  Elsie  will  be 
more  than  just  a  few  minutes, 
you  know." 

Dicky  sat  down.  "  But  she 
won't  take  long  to  change  her 
shoes,  will  she  f  " 

"No,  but  she's  not  quite 
dressed  for  going  out,  you  see. 
Now,  Mr  Playton,  I've  got  a 
lot  to  ask  you.  When  is  the 
next  coal  strike  coming  ?  " 

The    stout    man    jerked   his 

R  2 


438 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


chair  a  little  towards  her. 
"  Now,  young  lady,  it's  not 
for  you  to  ask  me  that. 
Who  was  responsible  for  the 
Taff  Vale  decision  ?  Who 
was " 

Dicky  left  them  well  away  on 
political  history,  and  turned  to 
speak  to  Thwayte,  who  had 
moved  up  beside  him.  "  How 
many  guns  will  we  be  to- 
morrow ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Seven,  I  believe.  There 
were  to  have  been  eight, 
but  one  can't  come  for  to- 
morrow. We  ought  to  get  an 
average  day,  I  think.  The 
keeper  told  me  to-day  that 
the  birds  hadn't  done  hardly 
middlinish  well,  nor  yet  mid- 
dlinish  bad ;  so,  as  all  keepers 
are  pessimists,  I  call  that  a 
very  cheerful  report." 

"  Yes,  they  always  keep  on 
the  safe  side.  What  do  you 


call  an  average  bag  for  the 
Twelfth  here  ?  " 

"  Two  hundred  brace  would 
be  very  good — a  hundred  and 
fifty  quite  reasonable.  I  have 
an  idea  we'll  get  a  bit  over  the 
hundred  and  fifty,  though — 
we  will  get  in  six  drives." 

"  All  over  different  butts  ?  " 

"  No — at  two  lines  of  butts 
we  take  it  both  ways.  Those 
four  drives  are  the  best,  I 
think.  Did  you  bring  a  dog  ?  " 

"  No.  I  thought  of  bringing 
one  from  home,  but  ours  are 
spaniels,  and  I  thought " 

"  Quite  right.  Spaniels  are 
no  use  here.  The  keepers' 
dogs'll  find  your  runners — that 
is,  if  you  have  any.  I  expect 
you're  a  rattling  good  shot, 
though,  and  don't  get  runners. 
Ah  !  here's  Miss  Hansard  ready 
for  you.  You'll  just  save  day- 
light." 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Dicky  and  his  pretty  com- 
panion crossed  the  lawn,  and 
turned  up  a  path  through  a 
patch  of  scattered  firs.  Dicky 
noticed  vaguely  that  the  lady 
seemed  to  have  altered  in 
appearance  a  bit,  but  his  mind 
at  the  moment  was  on  grouse- 
moors  and  their  bearing  on 
life  generally,  so  that  it  did 
not  dawn  on  him  that  she  had 
entirely  changed  from  the 
slightly  Egyptian-looking  frock 
she  had  worn  at  tea  to  a  red- 
brown  coat  and  skirt  of  the 
most  expensive  cut.  The  coat 
was  long,  and  the  skirt  most 
usefully  short.  Dicky  did  cer- 


tainly notice  the  latter  point 
as  the  path  narrowed,  and  she 
moved  in  front  of  him  to  lead 
the  way.  As  they  went  they 
talked — he  questioning  on  the 
general  geography  of  the  dis- 
trict, and  she  replying  with, 
as  far  as  he  could  tell,  fair 
accuracy.  They  cleared  the 
covert,  and  stood  above  it  on 
the  hillside.  Up  above  them 
for  a  fair  two  miles  ran  the 
moor  —  bracken  changing  to 
heather,  and  heather  to  scat- 
tered rock  till  the  hills  met  the 
evening  sky.  From  a  hundred 
yards  away  and  fifty  feet  up, 
a  cock-grouse  bragged — "  Go- 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


439 


bade  —  Go-back  —  Go-bade." 
Dicky  turned  and  looked  across 
the  valley  to  where  the  oppo- 
site slope  ran  up  to  the  seven- 
teen hundred  feet  of  Ingleside. 
The  valley  was  all  green  and 
yellow  with  ungathered  crops, 
a  colour  that  changed  abruptly 
to  grey  as  the  valley  met  rocks 
at  about  his  own  level.  One 
above  the  other — the  highest 
at  five  hundred  feet  —  he 
counted  six  prehistoric  beaches, 
the  ledges  made  by  glaciers  in 
successive  ice-ages.  Above  the 
highest  beach  the  slope  rose, 
even  and  brown,  just  as  it 
had  been  long  before  ice-ages 
or  man  had  come  to  disturb 
the  scornful  quiet  of  the  hills. 
The  cock-grouse  bragged  again, 
and  another  answered  the  chal- 
lenge. Dicky's  mind  caught 
the  recollection  of  a  picture  he 
had  seen  of  a  grouse  carved  in 
ivory  by  some  paleolithic 
artist-hunter.  He  wondered 
for  how  many  ages  there  had 
been  grouse  on  these  York- 
shire moors.  Elsie  spoke,  and 
he  turned  to  her.  "  Do  you 
like  it  ?  "  she  said. 

Dicky  drew  in  his  breath. 
"  Yes,  it's  the  only  kind  of 
country,"  he  replied.  "  Hills 
and  heather  as  far  up  as  you 
can  see." 

The  girl  was  leaning  back  on 
her  stick,  her  face  turned  up 
to  the  evening  light.  Dicky 
noticed  the  perfect  line  of 
curve  that  formed  her  throat. 
"I  don't  like  the  hills,"  she 
said.  "  I  think  I'm  a  little 
afraid  of  them.  I  think  I  feel 
safer  in  civilisation  and  houses." 

Dicky    moved    a    Little    to- 


wards her,  and  as  he  turned 
again  to  look  up  Beckside  he 
felt  the  touch  of  her  shoulder 
against  his  arm.  To  his  left 
the  great  dark  bulk  of  Ingle- 
side  seemed  to  move  towards 
him,  and  he  saw  as  if  in  a  long 
distant  dream  a  short  hairy 
man  driving  before  him  a  girl 
as  beautiful  as  the  man  was 
ugly,  into  a  cave  in  the  rocks 
that  form  the  Craven  Fault. 
Elsie  shivered  a  little.  "  Shall 
we  go  in  f  "  she  said.  "  It's 
eerie  out  here,  and  dinner  and 
civilisation  are  waiting  for  us." 

They  went  down  through 
the  fir  wood  together,  the  girl 
leading,  while  Dicky  watched 
the  swing  and  play  of  her 
tweed  skirt  as  she  moved.  He 
was  learning  something  that 
Adam  and  St  Anthony  knew, 
and  which,  if  you  don't  know, 
you  one  day  will  find  out  for 
yourself  —  namely,  that  man 
was  not  meant  to  live  alone. 

They  found  the  party  in 
the  drawing-room  dispersed,  and 
they  walked  upstairs  together. 
At  the  landing  she  turned  to 
him :  "  You  know  your  room, 
don't  you  t  " 

"Yes.  I'm  all  right.  I'll 
be  ready  sooner  than  you,  I 
expect." 

"  Oh  no  !  Not  by  much. 
I  don't  do  much  dressing-up 
here,  you  know." 

"  Well,  whatever  you  wear 
I  expect  it'll  look  all  right." 

The  girl  smiled  and  turned 
to  go.  Then  she  checked  and 
looked  round.  "  Which  do 
you  admire  most — nature  still 
or  nature  alive,  you  solemn 
man  ?  "  she  asked. 


440 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


A  deep  gong  boomed  down- 
stairs, and  she  swung  round 
the  corner  of  the  passage  with- 
out waiting  for  her  answer. 
Dicky  dressed  that  evening 
with  something  on  his  mind. 

She  arrived  just  as  the  party 
were  entering  the  dining-room, 
and  Dicky  gave  a  little  gasp 
as  he  saw  her.  She  was  clad 
in  shimmering  black,  her  dress 
cut  low  and  her  white  arms 
bare.  Dicky  pulled  out  the 
chair  on  his  right  for  her,  and 
they  sat  down  in  the  midst  of 
a  confused  chatter  of  tongues. 
Mrs  Hansard  was  on  Dicky's 
left,  and  for  some  minutes  he 
listened  carefully  to  a  weighty 
and  reasoned  argument  from 
her  on  the  advisability  of  wear- 
ing warm  clothes  on  the  moor, 
however  hot  the  day  might 
appear  to  be.  Dicky  had 
doubts  as  to  her  practical 
knowledge  of  the  subject,  but 
promised  to  take  her  warnings 
and  advice  very  carefully  to 
heart  during  his  toilet  next 
morning.  When  the  oppor- 
tunity came  for  him  to  turn 
to  Elsie,  she  was  engaged  in  a 
general  argument  with  Captain 
Thwayte  and  the  large  Playton 
over  some  matter  of  the  pro- 
bable date  of  the  next  Albert 
Hall  ball,  and  Dicky  perforce 
returned  to  the  entertainment 
of  his  hostess.  On  the  whole, 
he  was  not  very  sorry  when, 
the  meal  ended,  the  ladies  rose 
and  left.  His  host  called  to 
him,  and  he  obediently  moved 
up  to  a  vacant  chair  and  filled 
his  glass  again.  There  was  a 
short  pause  while  the  four  men 
studied  each  other,  and  each 


wondered  just  what  sort  of 
conversation  was  suited  to  his 
company.  The  host  opened 
the  ball. 

"  You're  just  from  the  Baltic, 
I  think,  Fancett  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  had  a  year  and  a 
half  there,  and  I'm  not  sorry 
to  be  back  here  before  another 
winter." 

"  Pretty  cold,  eh  f  Now  tell 
me — what  are  the  possibilities 
of  trade  with  Eussia  now  f 
What  have  they  got  to  give 
us?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  I 
doubt  if  any  one  does.  I  know, 
at  any  rate,  that  the  Baltic 
nations  that  are  quite  prepared 
to  trade  with  them  don't  seem 
to  be  getting  much  out  of  it." 

"  But  we  must  trade  with 
them.  How  else  are  we  to 
stabilise  exchange  ?  "  The  large 
Playton  was  quite  agitated. 
"  We  must  trade  with  Ger- 
many, Austria,  every  one,"  he 
went  on.  "It  is  the  only 
possible  way  to  save  the  finance 
of  the  world." 

"But,"  put  in  Dicky,  "if 
they've  got  no  money  to  pay 
for  OUT  stuff,  and  we  object 
to  their  dumping  stuff  on  us 
at  low  prices,  I  don't  see  how 
we're  going  to  get  on." 

"  Ah,  you're  a  Protectionist ! 
Now  we're  Free  Traders,  you 
see,  Commander." 

"  I'm  not — I'm  not  anything 
but  a  naval  officer." 

"  No  politics  at  ail  !  " 

"  Not  what  you  call  politics. 
My  politics  are  taken  from  a 
book  called  '  The  Influence  of 
Sea-Power  on  History,'  just  as 
most  officers'  are." 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture, 


441 


"  I've  not  read  it."  Playton 
turned  to  Hansard  —  "  Have 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  wouldn't  call 
it  a  political  book  quite.  Do 
you  think  all  political  people 
should  study  it,  Fancett  t  " 

"  No,  sir — I  only  used  that 
as  an  illustration — but  I'd  make 
all  politicians  when  they  took 
office  repeat  a  creed  I  could 
make  up  for  them  —  one  that 
they  would  have  to  remember 
in  all  their  actions  afterwards." 

"  And  what's  that  1  " 

"  Well,  it  would  be  some- 
thing like  this. — If  you  think 
it's  irreligious  you  must  pull 
me  up.  Let's  see. — '  I  believe 
in  one  British  Empire,  one  and 
indivisible,  made,  held,  and 
kept  going  by  the  Navy.  And 
I  believe  in  one  Navy,  by 
virtue  of  which  I  am  here. 
And  I  respect  the  sea  and  the 
sea  communications,  and  by 
those  communications  and  by 
the  light  of  Sea  Power  I  shall 
guide  all  my  judgments  and 
actions.  I  confess  that  no 
British  soldier  has  ever  fought 
our  enemies  until  he  has  crossed 
the  sea  to  do  so — that  our 
Army  in  France  in  the  Great 
War  was  an  Expeditionary 
Force,  and  that  the  sea  must 
guide  all  our  policy,  both  Home 
and  Foreign.  That  if  the  sea- 
roads  are  free  to  us  we  are 
free  of  the  world,  but  if  the 
sea-roads  are  ever  stopped  to 
us,  all  our  pay  stops.  Amen.' ' 

There  was  a  short  pause. 
Both  Hansard  and  Clayton 
were  a  little  shocked.  The 
careless  reference  to  the  fact 
that  the  country's  rulers  were 


remunerated  for  their  work 
seemed  a  little  sacrilegious  to 
them.  Captain  Thwayte  chimed 
in,  rather  to  Dicky's  relief — 

"  You're  right.  We  were 
just  an  expeditionary  force 
on  a  big  scale.  Lord !  what 
a  mix-up  we  would  have  had 
if  we'd  had  to  pull  out  of 
France  in  the  spring  of  1918  ! 
But  we  might  have  had  to  do 
it.  I  get  your  idea  :  you  want 
a  politician's  course  in  sea 
strategy  ?  " 

"  No — not  quite  that.  A 
course  in  history  and  foreign 
policy,  based  on  sea  communi- 
cations." 

"  Well,  our  policy  has  always 
been  based  on  that." 

"  Yes,  when  it  was  success- 
ful. Once  upon  a  time  the 
Dutch  burned  Chatham,  and 
once  we  lost  the  American 
Colonies." 

"  But  the  loss  of  America 
was  the  fault  of  colonial  policy 
— not  a  question  of  the  sea." 

"  It's  the  same  thing." 

The  two  elder  men  had 
dropped  into  an  earnest  argu- 
ment on  a  Budget  matter,  and 
Dicky  felt  that  national  ques- 
tions might  be  left  to  them 
for  a  while.  He  abruptly 
changed  the  subject  to  one  that 
was  to  him  of  greater  interest. 

"  What  time  do  we  start 
to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Well,  we  ought  to  be  in 
the  butts  by  nine.  That  means 
leaving  here  at  half-past  eight. 
It's  an  uphill  walk  all  day, 
really.  You'll  find  it  fairly 
wet,  so  you'll  have  to  be 
prepared  to  stand  about  in 
damp  boots." 


442                                    Heather  Mixture.                                 [Oct. 

"  How  many  cartridges  ?  "  suited    her    perfectly  -  trained 

"  Just  as  well  to  pack  two  voice.     After  three  verses  she 

hundred.      You    never    know  rose  suddenly,  shut  the  piano, 

your  luck.     There'll   be  boys  and  without  a  word  to  Dicky 

to  help  you  carry  'em."  walked    across    the    room    to 

"  Have  you  shot  here  often  join  Thwayte.     Dicky  perforce 

before  ?  "  joined   Phyllis   and   sat   down 

Before  Thwayte  could  answer,  by  her.     She  looked  at  him, 

Hansard  interrupted,  "  Another  at  Elsie,  and  then  at  him  again 

glass  of  port,  you  two  ?     No  t  with    a    little    puzzled    frown. 

Well,    we'd    better    join    the  Then  she  talked  about  naval 

ladies,  I  think."  operations  in  the  Baltic.    Dicky 

thought    women    were    queer 

The  note  of  a  piano  greeted  things, 
them  as  the  drawing-room  door 

opened.  Phyllis  and  Mrs  Han-  He  woke  at  seven  next  morn- 
sard  were  sitting  on  the  sofa  ing  to  the  sound  of  a  clashing 
by  the  fire,  and  Elsie  was  of  curtain-rings.  A  pale  light 
strumming  a  jazz  tune  fortis-  entered  by  the  windows,  and 
simo  and  with  barrel  -  organ  he  noted  a  rustle  and  creak 
expression.  She  stopped  from  the  firs  outside  that  told 
abruptly  as  Dicky  came  to-  of  a  westerly  breeze.  A  lean 
wards  her,  and  turned  her  man-servant,  who  had  the  face 
head  towards  him.  "  Are  you  of  a  groom,  was  pottering 
a  dancing  man  ?  "  she  asked.  about  the  room,  clearing  away 

"No.      I'm    rather    out-of-  dress-clothes    and   folding   the 

date,  I'm  afraid.     I  can  just  shooting-suit    Dicky    had    set 

get    along ;     but    I    can't    do  out  overnight.     "  Breakfast  at 

patent  things."  a    quarter    to    eight,     sir," — 

"  You're  rather  old-fashioned  the  man  slid  through  the  door, 
altogether,  aren't  you  ?  "  This  and  Dicky  yawned,  stretched 
came  with  the  first  flash  of  his  arms,  and  jumped  out  of 
feeling  Dicky  had  seen  in  her  bed.  An  inspection  of  the 
face.  He  was  startled,  and  a  weather  confirmed  him  in  his 
little  hurt.  She  turned  to  the  hopes  of  a  fine  clear  day,  and 
piano  again,  and  began  to  he  set  about  his  toilet  at  his 
sing  to  her  own  accompani-  usual  rapid  pace.  Dressing 
ment.  The  song  was,  "Ye  and  shaving  were  to  him  un- 
banks  and  braes,"  and  she  pleasant  ordeals  that  should 
sang  it  clearly  and  well,  but  be  got  through  as  soon  as  pos- 
with  an  absolute  lack  of  feel-  sible.  The  razor-blade  seemed 
ing.  Dicky  leaned  against  the  a  bit  dull,  and  after  discarding 
piano,  watching  her,  and  won-  one  he  cut  himself  under  the 
dered  a  little  if  she  liked  left  ear  with  a  second.  A 
singing  the  song  for  its  own  cup  of  tea,  and  the  reflection 
sake,  or  whether  she  merely  that  Mr  Jorrocks  always  con- 
took  pleasure  in  it  because  it  sidered  such  accidents  of  good 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


443 


omen,  cheered  him  up  again. 
He  got  into  his  clothes  swiftly, 
but  slowed  his  progress  to 
make  careful  adjustments  in 
the  fit  of  his  boots  and  stock- 
ings. His  shooting  clothes  were 
well  -  worn  and  comfortable, 
and  it  was  only  with  those  and 
with  his  hunting-kit  that  he 
was  wont  to  be  particular  as 
to  fit,  cut,  and  adjustment  of 
details.  On  this  occasion  he 
had  donned  a  grey  shirt  and 
collar,  and  he  considered  their 
appearance  in  the  looking-glass 
carefully  before  deciding  that 
their  colour  was  sufficiently 
indeterminate  to  prevent  them 
catching  the  eye  of  an  approach- 
ing bird.  He  hesitated  a  little 
on  the  question  of  headgear, 
and  decided  after  another  look 
out  of  the  window  that  the 
sun  would  be  out  in  an  hour, 
and  that  a  hat  was  preferable 
to  a  cap.  He  felt  in  his  roomy 
pockets — some  eight  in  num- 
ber— and  mustered  their  con- 
tents :  pipe,  tobacco,  money, 
matches,  handkerchief,  knife, 
cartridge-extractor,  &c. — they 
were  all  there,  and  he  went 
downstairs  feeling  that  as  far 
as  possible  he  had  eliminated 
minor  troubles  from  his  day. 

Thwayte  overtook  him  in  the 
hall,  and  they  entered  the 
dining  -  room  together.  The 
household  was  represented  by 
the  butler  only,  and  that  worthy 
at  once  made  them  at  home  by 
introducing  them  to  the  side- 
board and  starting  them  off 
on  breakfast.  At  intervals 
their  meal  was  interrupted  by 
the  necessity  of  their  jumping 
up  to  greet  the  remainder  of 


the  party  as  its  units  arrived 
— stamping,  gliding,  or  bust- 
ling into  the  room  according 
to  their  sex  or  nature.  The 
host  was  last,  and  walked  in 
with  the  impressive  air  of  the 
Leader  of  the  House  arriving 
to  answer  a  combined  attack 
by  the  Opposition.  Dicky  did 
not  pay  much  attention  to  the 
ladies  ;  he  wanted  to  get  away 
and  see  his  gun  and  cartridges 
in  order  before  there  could  be 
any  chance  of  his  being  hurried 
over  such  an  important  busi- 
ness. After  a  few  minutes 
the  late-comers  settled  down, 
and  he  took  advantage  of 
their  preoccupation  to  slip  out. 
He  found  in  the  gun-room  a 
gaitered  elderly  man  of  gloomy 
aspect  standing  among  a  litter 
of  gun-cases  and  cartridge-bags. 
This  individual  was  at  the 
moment  putting  Dicky's  gun 
together.  He  looked  its  owner 
over  thoughtfully,  looked  back 
at  the  gun,  snapped  the  fore- 
end  into  place,  and  vouchsafed 
a  statement. 
"  Jfornin'." 

"  G'morning — are  we  going 
to  have  a  good  day  for  it  ?  " 

"  Ef  there's  owt  on  t'moor 
—aye." 

A  long  pause,  while  the 
keeper  rubbed  the  gun-stock 
with  his  sleeve.  "  Humph  ! 
it's  bin  middlinish  barrin' 
t'backend." 

Dicky  digested  this  slowly 
for  a  bit  and  then  gave  it  up. 
It  was  quite  different  to  the 
Esthonian  or  Finnish  tongues, 
yet  it  was  equally  mysterious 
to  listen  to.  He  began  to  un- 
strap his  cartridges  and  to 


444 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


tumble  them  into  his  cartridge- 
bags.  The  gloomy  keeper  put 
his  gun  in  the  rack  against  the 
wall  and  began  also  rummaging 
in  cartridge  magazines.  "  Tha' 
shutes  wi'  a  good  gun,  a' 
reckon." 

"  Yes,  it's  a  nice  gun." 

"  Hoap  tha'  can  shute's  good 
as  t'gun  lets  tha'.  That's 
middlin'  o'  cartridge  for  thee. 
Tha'll  need  no  more." 

Thwayte  and  Playton  en- 
tered, and  Dicky,  feeling  that 
the  keeper's  estimate  should  be 
tempered  with  a  little  more 
optimism,  hastily  tipped  an- 
other thirty  cartridges  into  his 
pocket.  "  Why,  Jim,  you're 
looking  positively  cheerful !  Is 
this  to  be  a  record  season,  or 
what  ?  I  see  you've  got  the 
guns  out — who's  going  to  carry 
my  cartridges  ?  Don't  let  me 
have  that  man  who  talks  again 
— he  puts  me  off.  .  . ."  Thwayte 
seemed  to  be  an  old  friend,  for 
the  keeper's  grim  mouth  re- 
laxed a  little,  though  he  re- 
frained from  answering. 

Dicky  took  another  glance 
over  his  equipment,  and  went 
out  through  the  side-door  to 
where  a  group  of  old  men  and 
boys  stood  leaning  on  their 
long  sticks  on  the  gravel  path. 
The  sound  of  a  raucous  horn 
and  the  rising  hum  of  an 
engine  heralded  the  arrival  of 
two  more  guns  ;  the  car  swept 
up  the  slope  and  stopped  by 
the  group  of  country-folk  as  Mr 
Hansard  came  out  of  the  side- 
door  to  greet  its  occupants. 

"  Come  in,  Chapman.  How 
d'y  do,  Pennistone  ?  You're 
just  on  time — you  all  ready  ?  " 


The  driver  of  the  car  shook 
his  coat  off  as  he  stood  up. 
"  Yes,  to  the  last  gaiter-button. 
Hop  out — Pennistone — they're 
all  waiting  for  us."  The  pas- 
senger jumped  down  and  took 
two  guns  and  a  litter  of  cart- 
ridge-bags from  the  back  seats. 
"  How  are  you,  Hansard  ?  " 
he  shouted.  "  Not  Prime  Min- 
ister yet  ?  Why,  the  Govern- 
ment's got  no  sense.  Any 
coffee  left  on  the  kitchen  table, 
eh  ?  "  Without  waiting  for  a 
reply  he  dashed  into  the  house 
and  his  voice  echoed  from  the 
direction  of  the  dining-room. 
His  companion,  Chapman,  did 
not  follow.  He  slung  a  bag 
over  his  shoulder,  tucked  his 
gun  under  his  arm,  and  walked 
over  to  talk  to  Dicky,  who, 
similarly  armed  and  ready,  was 
enjoying  his  second  pipe  on 
the  lawn. 

"  Good  unorning,  sailor,"  he 
said.  "  You're  Fancett,  aren't 
you  ?  Heard  you'd  be  here. 
Staying  long  I  " 

"  How  are  you,  sir  ?  No, 
I'm  just  here  for  two  days' 
shoot.  I'll  go  back  day  after 
to-morrow." 

"Oh!  that's  a  pity— we 
must  try  and  alter  that.  Done 
much  grouse-shooting  ?  I  see. 
Well,  you'll  soon  pick  it  up 
if  you've  shot  other  game. 
Good.  We're  moving  off.  A 
quarter  of  an  hour  late,  and 
we  won't  get  much  time  to 
spare  when  we  get  to  the  butts." 

"  Have  the  beaters  gone  on 
then  ?  " 

"  O  Lord,  yes  !  They  have 
a  mile  and  a  half  to  bring  in 
for  this  drive.  It's  an  allot- 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


445 


ments  drive,  and  we  won't  get 
much  off  it,  but  we'll  move 
them  on  towards  the  middle 
of  the  moor." 

The  keeper  passed  down  the 
line  of  guns  and  flankers  as 
they  tramped  up  the  path 
through  the  fir  wood  ;  as  he 
passed  each  gun  he  held  out 
a  bunch  of  slips  of  paper. 
Chapman  and  |^Dicky  each 
pulled  a  slip  as  the  man  passed. 
Chapman  laughed. 

"  Number  one,  I've  got — 
what  are  you  ?  " 

"  Number  six.  Is  that  a 
good  one  f  " 

"  It's  good  for  the  first  drive 
— what  there  is  of  it ;  but  it's 
not  so  good  for  the  other  drives. 
You  move  up  one  number  each 
drive,  you  know.  But  you'll 
get  decent  shooting  wherever 
your  number  lands  you.  I 
always  say  that  there's  no  such 
thing  as  a  bad  butt  or  bad 
whisky — only  some  are  better 
than  others.  You  must  get  a 
lot  of  mixed  shooting  all  round 
the  world,  don't  you  ?  " 

They  were  breasting  the 
steepest  part  of  the  hill ;  the 
line  of  butts  showed  up  against 
the  sky  far  above  them,  and 
Dicky  felt  that  talking  under 
such  difficult  conditions  was 
rather  unfair.  He  was  not 
going  to  be  outdone,  however, 
by  this  lanky  civilian  who  strode 
and  chatted  so  easily  beside  him. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  gallantly. 
"  One  gets  snipe — and  part- 
ridges— and  buck,  of  course — 
woodcocks — all  over  the  world 
— Mauritius  —  East  Indies  — 
South  America — Mediterranean 
— quite  a  lot." 


"  And  did  you  get  much  up 
in  the  Baltic  ?  Plenty  of  duck, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No  —  too  much  at  war. 
Couldn't  get  far  enough  away 
to  shoot.  Which  is  number 
six  butt  ?  " 

"  The  top  one.  You'll  have 
time  to  get  there  all  right,  but 
you'd  better  go  right  on  up. 
This  is  my  place  ;  sorry  I'm 
not  next  to  you  this  time. 
Good  sport  to  you." 

Chapman  kicked  open  the 
low  door  of  a  great  circle  that 
looked  like  the  remains  of  a 
prehistoric  hut.  Dicky  sum- 
moned enough  breath  to  wish 
him  "  Good  shooting  "  in  ex- 
change, and  continued  his  plod 
up  the  hillside.  The  heather 
was  wet  and  the  going  rough 
and  boggy.  Little  gutters  of 
slippery  black  earth  ran  down 
through  the  ling-bobs,  and  his 
feet  floundered  occasionally. 
The  bag  he  carried  contained 
only  a  hundred  cartridges,  yet 
it  was  beginning  to  feel  like 
a  four-inch  shell.  He  counted 
the  butts  as  he  passed  them, 
and  at  the  fourth  the  slope  of 
the  hill  eased  a  little.  To  his 
surprise  he  saw  that  the  top 
butt,  which  had  previously 
shown  up  right  on  the  skyline, 
was  by  no  means  at  the  top 
of  the  hill.  The  heather  went 
on  up  another  half-mile  to 
meet  another  horizon,  and  he 
wondered  how  far  up  it  went 
beyond  that.  He  reached  num- 
ber six  and  entered  it  with  a 
gasp  of  relief.  A  low  post  with 
a  foot  of  plank  across  it  occu- 
pied the  centre  of  the  butt. 
Dicky  sat  on  this  and  looked 


446 


Heather  Mixture, 


[Oct. 


round.  The  floor  was  of  planks, 
but  the  planks  were  covered 
with  wet  peat-mud.  The  walls 
were  damp  and  uninviting  to 
lean  against.  Altogether  it 
looked  a  poor  sort  of  retreat 
to  stay  long  in.  He  hung  his 
cartridge-bag  on  the  end  of  the 
seat,  loaded  his  gun,  and  placed 
it  on  the  wall  in  front  of  him. 
He  was  not  quite  sure  which 
way  the  drive  was  coming,  and, 
standing  up,  he  looked  round 
for  information.  Yes,  it  was 
all  right — he  could  see  two 
flankers  sitting  down  far  out 
to  his  left  front,  and  Penni- 
stone,  having  reached  the  butt 
next  below,  was  leaning  out 
and  looking  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. A  mile  away  a  white  flag 
flickered  and  disappeared ;  then 
two  figures  showed  below  it  on 
a  little  knoll  of  rock.  The 
flag  showed  again,  waving  furi- 
ously this  time,  and  he  saw 
Pennistone's  head  and  shoulders 
lowered  a  little.  Dicky  won- 
dered if  that  meant  business  or 
not — decided  it  didn't,  and 
continued  to  stand  upright, 
looking  out  to  the  westward. 
Then  he  heard  Pennistone 
whistle  softly  once — several 
times.  He  picked  up  his  gun 
and  looked  down  the  hill  to 
see  if  any  other  guns  were 
showing  activity.  As  he  looked 
back  to  the  drivers  a  little 
patch  of  the  heather  two  hun- 
dred yards  away  seemed  to 
be  moving  towards  him.  A 
second  glance  made  him  crouch 
back  and  finger  his  trigger- 
guard,  for  the  movement  he 
saw  was  not  that  of  heather. 
A  group  of  black  specks  moved 


low  down  and  apparently  quite 
slowly  to  his  right  front ;  then 
all  of  a  sudden  they  were  not 
moving  slowly,  and  they  were 
grouse  gliding  down  to  Penni- 
stone's butt  with  the  speed  of 
arrows.  Bang-bang — one  bird 
collapsed,  and  as  Dicky  stared 
in  surprise  at  the  silent  sneak- 
ing way — so  different  to  his  ex- 
pectations— in  which  the  birds 
had  arrived,  a  high  wailing 
call  from  the  nearest  flanker 
made  him  look  uphill.  The 
man's  flag  was  waving  fran- 
tically. Dicky  looked  to  his 
front,  and  then  heard  a  whisper 
of  wings  behind  him.  He 
whipped  round  and  got  both 
barrels  off  at  a  small  pack  of 
grouse  at  a  few  yards'  range — 
and  missed  them  comfortably. 

Far  away  downhill  to  his 
right  there  sounded  a  rattle  of 
firing.  Pop -pop -pop -pop — It 
sounded  as  if  two  guns  were 
working  at  their  topmost  speed. 
There  was  a  pause — a  single 
shot — and  then  he  saw  a  long 
string  of  birds — ten  broods  at 
least — sailing  majestically  over 
the  shoulder  below  him  to- 
wards the  lower  butts.  The 
firing  broke  out  again,  and  he 
envied  the  guns  that  were 
being  granted  such  high  clear 
shots.  Then  came  a  warning 
cry  from  the  flanker  above, 
and  he  looked  to  his  front 
quickly.  "  Ho'd  'em  up — ho'd 
'em  up  !  "  Four  hundred  yards 
off  were  a  dozen  black  specks, 
low  down  and  coming  towards 
him.  He  crouched  and  waited, 
all  a-quiver  with  impatience. 
At  a  hundred  yards'  range  he 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


447 


raised  his  gun — then  lowered 
it — then  threw  it  up  quickly 
and  fired  at  the  leading  bird, 
— a  bird  that  showed  as  a 
round  dot  with  rigid,  short, 
and  tapering  wings  sticking 
out  from  it — so  straight  was 
its  coming.  At  the  instant  of 
firing  he  knew  he  had  missed  ; 
he  swung  his  gun  up,  but  the 
bird  whizzed  over  him  just 
clear  of  his  gun-muzzle ;  [he 
whirled  round,  slipping  a  little 
on  the  greasy  boards,  and  fired 
at  another  bird  as  it  showed  its 
tail  to  him  from  thirty  yards 
behind.  Nothing  fell,  and  he 
reloaded  with  a  fair  round  oath. 
Out  in  front  he  could  see  the 
heads  of  the  drivers  coming  in 
sight,  and  he  prayed  for  a 
chance  to  kill  at  least  one 
grouse  before  the  drive  was 
over.  Below  him  the  guns 
popped  merrily,  and  at  in- 
tervals rapidly.  A  hoarse  yell 
from  the  flanker  spoke  of  a 
chance  coming,  and  two  birds 
came  straight  past  him,  sail- 
ing downhill  with  stiff  wings. 
He  swung  on  to  one  carefully, 
steadied  in  front  of  it,  and 
fired  ;  he  changed  to  the  second 
bird,  and  let  fly  even  more 
carefully.  Both  grouse  went 
on  down  the  line  untouched, 
and  Dicky  felt  the  tears  of  rage 
coming  to  the  back  of  his  eyes. 
He  loaded  slowly  and  slid  his 
gun  over  his  shoulder.  The 
drivers  were  close  now,  and  he 
felt  that  life  for  him  was  over  ; 
he  would  never  hit  a  bird  all 
day,  he  was  a  laughing-stock 
and  a  byword  among  men. 
Never  would  he — he  swung 
round  and  jerked  up  his  gun. 


At  the  shot  a  high-flying  cock- 
grouse,  ninety  feet  up  and 
coming  down  wind,  collapsed 
and  fell,  striking  the  heather 
with  a  thud  in  front  of  Penni- 
stone's  feet. 

"  WeU  done,  Sailor  !  Pretty 
work."  Pennistone  was  just 
leaving  his  butt  to  pick  up  his 
game,  and  the  flankers  were 
coming  in.  Dicky  walked  out 
and  kicked  the  heather  petu- 
lantly. He  felt  that  that  last 
bird  had  just  prevented  him 
from  throwing  his  gun  away 
and  walking  home.  He  had 
had  eight  fair  chances  and  had 
killed  one  bird.  If  this  sort 
of  thing  was  going  to  continue 
he  was  in  for  a  poor  day. 
' '  How  many,  sir  ? ' ' — the  flanker, 
an  old  and  grey -bearded  dales- 
man, was  beside  him.  "  Only 
one.  I  missed  the  rest,"  said 
Dicky  bitterly. 

"  And  that's  bett'  nor  some. 
I  mind  a  shuter  i'  this  'ere 
butt  'at  shot  at  eighty  and 
got  nowt."  He  moved  on 
downhill,  and  Dicky  looked 
after  him  gratefully,  deciding 
that  even  if  he  was  a  liar,  he 
was  a  good  kind  of  comforter. 

Pennistone  came  up  -  hill. 
"What  did  you  get?  That 
all  ?  Never  mind.  You'll  get 
better  chances  next  drive.  I 
got  two  an'  a  half  brace.  Lot 
of  shooting  down  the  hill  there. 
Did  you  hear  'em  ?  " 

"  Yes,  high  birds  going  over 
them  too." 

"  Not  so  high.  They  follow 
the  curve  of  the  ground  a  lot 
this  drive.  That  was  a  high 
one  you  shot." 

"  Yes  j    I  don't  mind  those 


448 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


sort  of  birds.  I  didn't  expect 
grouse  to  come  just  off  the 
heather  like  most  of  them 
did,  though." 

"  A  grouse  comes  all  ways. 
Just  got  to  take  'em  as  they 
come,  that's  all.  But  I  think 
they  come  lower  in  August 
than  later,  and  they  dodge 
about  more  too.  They're  not 
really  alarmed  by  the  drive, 
these  young  birds  ;  they  just 
get  up,  and  decide  to  go  else- 
where, and  they  jog  along  slow, 
and  many  turn  off  any  way 
when  they  meet  the  guns. 
Later  on  they'll  come  like 
bullets,  not  so  low  down,  but 
meaning  business  once  they've 
chosen  their  point." 

"Well,  I've  got  all  my 
troubles  to  come  yet.  I  wish 
I  could  get  them  over,  though, 
and  get  the  length  of  these 
devils." 

Pennistone  grinned.  "It's 
just  the  length  you've  got  to 
forget,  sailor.  You  threw  up 
and  killed  that  high  bird  as 
clean  as  a  whistle.  D'you 
know  why  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Because  I 
was  caught  bending  and  hadn't 
time  to  think  of  lead  and 
swing  and  all  that." 

"  You've  got  it.  And  you've 
got  to  make  yourself  as  quick 
as  that  every  shot.  You  must 
see  the  bird  and  not  your 
gun-barrel ;  keep  that  rule  in 
your  head.  It's  the  same  as 
billiards,  after  all ;  you  don't 
have  sights  on  your  cue.  Ah  ! 
here  they  come  up  to  us. 
We'll  move  up  now ;  we've 
got  to  cross  the  hill." 

A  group  of  guns  and  drivers 


were  plodding  up  the  slope 
behind  them.  Dicky,  anxious 
to  avoid  further  questions  as 
to  what  sport  he  had  had, 
jumped  at  the  idea  of  moving 
on  in  advance,  and  the  two 
set  out  up  the  rough  path  be- 
fore them.  They  had  covered 
half  a  mile  of  heather  before 
they  came  out  on  the  open 
hill-top,  and  Pennistone  led 
the  way  down  a  shallow  gulley 
that  lay  on  their  right.  He 
stopped  at  a  butt  that  lay  so 
well  concealed  that  it  was  not 
noticeable  fifty  yards  away. 
"  Here's  yours,"  he  said. 
"  Number  one.  I  go  on  to  the 
sixth.  You  may  get  some 
shooting  with  this  wind."  He 
moved  on,  and  Dicky  slipped 
down  a  greasy  path  and  entered 
his  quarters.  It  struck  him 
at  once  that  unless  somebody 
gave  him  warning  he  was  going 
to  be  hard  put  to  it  to  shoot 
at  all.  His  view  in  front  ex- 
tended just  twenty  yards,  and 
behind  him  was  the  gulley 
side  about  the  same  distance 
away.  To  his  right  and  left 
he  could  see  fairly  well,  but 
with  a  butt  on  one  side  of  him 
and  possibly  a  flanker  on  the 
other,  those  views  were  not 
much  use  to  him.  The  other 
guns  passed  down  behind  him  ; 
the  drivers  had  branched  off 
and  departed.  Chapman  came 
sliding  down  the  slope,  and 
called  him  out  to  a  heather 
bank  below  the  butt.  Dicky 
came  out,  and  the  two  sat 
down  on  their  cartridge-bags 
and  lit  their  pipes. 

"It'll   be    five  -  and  -  twenty 
minutes  before  the  drive  starts. 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


449 


I'll  go  down  to  my  butt  then," 
said  the  tall  man.  "  Get  much 
sport  the  first  drive  ?  " 

"  One  bird  only.     I " 

"  Poor  butt  that.  I've  never 
known  many  birds  come  to  it. 
We  had  plenty  of  chances 
below,  but  Hansard  and  I 
were  shooting  like  fools." 

"  What  did  you  get  t  " 

"  He  got  ten  brace.  I  had 
fourteen.  My  old  bitch  here 
collected  four  runners  for  me." 
The  Labrador  stood  up  and 
placed  her  wet  paws  on  his 
shoulders.  "  Down  !  —  Sit, 
Lady !  Yes,  a  good  dog'll 
get  more^than  a  bad  gun  any 
day." 

"  Have  you  had  her  long  !  " 

"  Seven  years.  I  bred  her. 
It's  lucky  I'm  not  married, 
or  my  wife  would  be  jealous. 
She's  a  good  Lady,  and  she's 
got  more  sense  than  a  woman." 

"  You're  a  confirmed  bache- 
lor, are  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  Women  have 
got  no  sense  of  proportion. 
A  woman  would  see  no  sense 
in  my  going  out  and  having  a 
night  with  some  pals  and  swim- 
ming from  Temple  Pier  to  the 
Tower  steps  just  because  I 
felt  like  it.  They  don't  see 
that  silly  things  have  got  to 
be  done  sometimes,  just  be- 
cause they're  silly.  Why 
shouldn't  a  man  swim  in  the 
Thames  at  midnight  if  he 
wants  to  ?  " 

"  You  talk  as  if  you  had  had 
an  experience  that  way." 

"  You're  right.  She  broke 
it  off.  I  was  relieved,  because 
I  saw  I* had  nearly  made  a 
mistake.  She  had  no  sense  of 


humour.  When  I  meet  a 
woman  who  has,  I'll  marry 
her.  How  long  did  you  say 
you'd  be  up  here  ?  " 

"  Only  a  couple  of  days." 
"  Well,  to-morrow's  Saturday 
— Sunday — I'm  shooting  Mon- 
day and  Tuesday.  Come  to 
me  on  Sunday.  I'll  get  you 
over  there  in  the  car.  Yes, 
you've  got  to  come.  One  of 
my  guns  has  dropped  out,  and 
I  think  you'll  prefer  my  lot  to 
this.  You'll  have  women  in 
your  butt  this  afternoon.  I 
don't  know  which  of  them 
you'll  have,  but  you  might 
get  both.  Blood  and  Wars ! 
Look  out !  " 

He  picked  up  his  gun  and 
cartridges,  and  rushed  down 
towards  his  butt.  Ten  brace 
of  grouse  whizzed  over  Dicky 
as  he  scrambled  up  and  tum- 
bled into  his  own.  For  five 
minutes  after  the  birds  had 
passed  he  stood  craning  his 
head  up  for  the  first  glimpse 
of  the  approach  of  more,  his 
gun  thrust  forward,  his  finger 
on  the  trigger-guard.  Nothing 
came,  and  not  a  shot  or  sound 
broke  the  stillness  of  the  gully. 
He  lowered  his  gun  again,  and 
felt  for  his  pipe.  Somebody 
whistled  farther  down,  and 
he  sprang  to  attention.  A 
single  brace  of  birds  appeared 
straight  in  front.  They  swerved 
up  over  him,  and  he  took 
an  almost  overhead  shot  as 
they  passed.  He  hit  one  bird, 
which  swayed  a  little,  stooped, 
and  then  towered  high  behind 
him.  He  could  not  see  where 
it  pitched,  but  reckoned  it  as 
having  gone  well  over  a  hun- 


450 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


dred  yards  before  falling.  He 
heard  Chapman  fire,  and  saw 
two  birds  fall  like  stones  in 
front.  A  yell  and  repeated 
cries  of  "  Yah — Aah — Ho'd 
'em  up  !  "  sounded,  and  then 
came  a  hurricane  of  grouse, 
whirling  over  and  past  him — 
low,  high,  or  medium, — pass- 
ing straight  over  or  diagonally 
— diving  over  the  gully  face 
in  front,  and  swinging  up  as 
they  saw  him  or  curling  round 
as  the  eddies  of  wind  coming 
over  the  hill  met  them.  Dicky 
fired,  slipped,  loaded,  fumbled, 
slipped,  and  fired  furiously. 
The  rush  lasted  for  some  ninety 
seconds,  and  then  stopped  sud- 
denly. He  panted  a  little 
with  excitement,  and  then 
swore  at  himself  long  and 
lustily.  With  all  his  haste 
and  fumbling,  his  wild  slips 
and  eagerness,  he  had  got  off 
but  eight  shots.  He  knew 
that  he  had  only  one  bird 
clean  killed,  and  that  he  had 
wounded  two  more,  neither  of 
which  was  likely  to  be  found. 
He  had  been  comforting  him- 
self with  the  thought  that  it 
wanted  only  a  little  excitement 
and  "  warming  up  "  to  make 
him  shoot  decently.  He  had 
just  had  the  chance  he  wanted, 
and  yet  had  thrown  it  away. 
A  solitary  cock-grouse  flew 
diagonally  over  him,  and  he 
moodily  raised  his  gun  and 
moodily  slew  it  as  it  came 
over.  Steady  firing  came  from 
down  the  gully,  and  he  saw 
grouse  passing  below  Chapman 
in  a  fairly  regular  stream. 
Then  two  birds  came  up  to 
him,  curling  back  from  the 


guns.  He  fired  twice,  and  one 
bird  fluttered  reluctantly  down 
in  front — a  bird  to  be  watched, 
evidently.  Chapman  began  to 
fire  rapidly  again  to  his  left 
front,  and  Dicky  got  a  fair 
chance  at  coming  birds.  He 
missed  clean  with  one  barrel, 
and  pricked  a  bird  with  the 
other.  The  bird  sailed  on,  and 
he  saw  it  in  strong  flight 
disappear  over  his  horizon  up- 
hill. The  sound  of  voices  and 
flapping  flags  gave  notice  of 
the  drivers'  approach,  and 
the  guns  came  out  from  their 
shelters.  Dicky  picked  up  one 
dead  bird,  and  then  looked 
helplessly  round.  He  had  a 
wounded  bird  down  somewhere 
close  in  front,  and  at  least  two 
well  behind.  He  marked  as 
well  as  he  could  the  spots 
where  he  had  lost  sight  of 
them,  running  up  the  gully- 
sides  to  get  a  clearer  view. 
Chapman  and  a  driver  were 
collecting  birds  below  him.  He 
saw  them  pick  fifteen,  and 
then  they  moved  up  towards 
him. 

"  Whereabouts  are  they  ?  " 
called  the  confirmed  bachelor. 

"  One  just  in  front  here, 
about  twenty  yards  —  two 
others  a  long  way  back." 

"  All  right ;  keep  a  bit  to 
one  side,  will  you  f  "  He  waved 
his  hand,  and  Lady  went  with 
a  rush  down  wind.  She  turned 
left-handed  when  some  forty 
yards  off,  and  hurried  across 
the  line  to  leeward.  Suddenly 
she  checked  and  began'  a  swift 
zigzag  back,  each  tack  becom- 
ing shorter  than  the  last.  A 
few  feet  from  where  the  bird 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


451 


had  fallen  she  stopped  and 
stood — her  near  paw  raised. 

"  Keep  quite  still,  Sailor," 
said  Chapman.  "  That  bird  can 
fly.  Steady— little  Lady." 

The  bitch  took  a  slow  pace 
forward  —  another  —  her  paw 
came  quite  gently  down,  and 
a  bright-eyed  grouse  broke  into 
frantic  flutterings  beneath  it. 
She  stooped  her  head  and 
picked  the  bird,  her  white 
teeth  holding  the  wings  still 
against  the  body.  As  she 
trotted  to  her  master,  Dicky 
saw  the  unruffled  head  and 
neck  of  the  bird  moving  beside 
her  soft  brown  eye  in  un- 
flurried  curiosity.  Chapman 
patted  her  head  as  he  took  her 
charge  from  her,  and  waved 
her  over  the  gully  face  behind. 
The  two  men  walked  slowly 
after,  and  watched  her  quarter- 
ing far  down  wind. 

"If  we  were  taking  this  bit 
back  I  wouldn't  let  her  out 
that  way,  but  anything  she 
puts  up  now  will  go  downhill 
where  we  want  'em.  Ah ! 
she's  on  a  line — that's  a  strong 
runner.  It's  a  drainage  grip 
she's  on,  and  she  knows  the 
runners  make  for  grips  if  they 
can."  The  bitch  stopped,  and 
her  head  went  down  and  stayed 
down.  Chapman  whistled  shril- 
ly, and  she  came  galloping 
back  with  a  dead  bird.  She 
delivered  it,  ran  back  a  little 
way,  and  looked  up  for  leave 
to  go.  A  wave  sent  her  gallop- 
ing. "  She  knows  there  are 
two  birds  there,  and  she's  had 
the  line  of  both." 

"  But  she's  going  back  to 
the  same  place.  The  birds 


weren't  together  at  all  when  I 
saw  them  coming  down." 

"  Ye-e-s.  It  may  be  the 
same  line  she's  after.  She 
doesn't  usually  take  trouble 
over  nothing,  though."  The 
bitch  hurried  down  the  grip, 
and  began  nosing  the  heather 
where  she  had  found  the  last 
grouse.  Chapman  gave  an  ex- 
clamation of  impatience,  and 
whistled.  She  raised  her  head, 
hesitated,  lowered  her  head 
again,  and  a  moment  later 
came  trotting  back  with  a 
bird  in  her  mouth.  Chapman 
took  it  from  her,  and  held  out 
his  hand.  She  jumped  up, 
putting  her  paws  on  his  fore- 
arm. "  I  beg  your  pardon," 
he  said  ;  "I  can't  say  fairer 
than  that,  can  I  ?  "  She 
laughed  up  at  him — her  long 
tongue  flapping  as  she  panted  ; 
then  dropped  into  heel  as  he 
turned  to  go  back. 

Dicky  entered  number  two 
butt  at  the  next  drive  feeling 
absolutely  despondent.  The 
grouse  seemed  to  be  quite 
unkillable.  He  was  shooting 
as  carefully  and  accurately  as 
he  could,  yet  for  all  the  results 
he  was  getting  he  knew  that 
he  might  as  well  have  been 
loaded  with  sand  instead  of 
shot.  He  had  only  killed  two 
birds  all  day,  the  dog  had 
collected  three  more  for  him, 
and,  worse  than  all,  he  had 
sent  several  wounded  birds  on. 
He  placed  his  gun  on  the  turf- 
crowned  wall  before  him,  and 
looked  round  at  the  prospect. 
The  line  of  butts  was  well 
down  the  hill  on  the  lee  slope 
of  the  gully  ;  he  had  a  clear 


452 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Oct. 


view  of  a  hundred  yards  be- 
hind him  and  rather  more  in 
front.  Next  above  him  was 
Playton  with  his  hosts'  groom- 
like  valet  in  attendance  ;  be- 
low him  he  could  see  Chapman 
and  Lady  sitting  in  the  sun 
outside  their  butt.  He  arranged 
a  row  of  cartridges  out  before 
him,  loaded  his  gun,  and  sat 
back  to  wait  for  the  approach- 
ing ordeal.  The  sun  was  strong 
now,  and  a  faint  steam  rose 
from  the  damp  heather  around 
him.  Down  the  gully  the  view 
ran  for  miles — tumbling  becks, 
pools,  and  patches  of  rock 
catching  his  eye  as  he  followed 
the  line  of  the  slope  over 
twenty  thousand  acres  of  heath- 
er away  to  the  blue-grey  hills 
beyond.  Warning  whistles 
came  from  the  butts  on  each 
side,  and  he  stood  up,  his 
gun-barrels  resting  on  the  wall. 
Here  they  came — a  brace — 
twenty  brace — fifty,  in  a  scat- 
tered line  -  ahead  formation. 
Playton  fired  straight  to  his 
front,  and  Dicky  noted  with 
surprise  a  bird  dropping  some 
fifty  yards  or  more  out.  He 
picked  a  leading  bird  carefully 
— covered  it — and  as  it  came 
straight  for  his  face  dropped  it 
almost  at  his  feet.  Another 
showed  coming  apparently  with 
the  intention  of  impaling  itself 
on  his  gun,  but  aiming  as  if 
he  held  a  rifle  he  killed  it 
easily.  He  reloaded  quickly 
but  calmly,  and,  paying  no 
attention  to  the  birds  that 
whipped  past  to  each  side, 
dropped  two  more  with  aimed 
shots  in  their  faces.  Four,  all 
wickedly  easy,  once  he  had  got 


the  trick,  but  yet  four  in  four 
shots  ;  the  stream  of  grouse 
slowed  up  and  dropped  to 
scattered  ones  and  twos  com- 
ing over  higher  up  and  from 
unexpected  directions.  A  cock- 
bird  came  down  the  line,  being 
missed  by  Playton  and  Dicky 
(one  shot  each),  by  Chapman 
(two),  and  dropped  by  their 
host  (two  barrels).  Two  more 
came  up  the  gully,  swerved 
round,  and  came  between  Two 
and  Three  butts.  Chapman 
dropped  one — a  long  shot — 
and  wounded  the  other,  which 
went  on  in  a  swerving  snipe- 
like  flight.  It  was  a  longish 
shot,  but  Dicky  swung  well 
ahead  and  brought  it  down  in 
a  crumpled  ball.  More  whist- 
ling, and  then  for  some  seconds 
the  sky  in  front  seemed  dark 
with  grouse ;  they  came  in 
broods  of  five  to  ten  brace  in 
rapid  succession,  some  skim- 
ming the  heather,  some  sailing 
over  at  the  limit  of  a  shot- 
gun's range.  Dicky  steadied 
himself  and  fired  coolly,  shoot- 
ing the  instant  his  eye  caught 
each  bird  over  his  gun-muzzle. 
Some  he  missed,  but  when  the 
storm  had  passed  and  he  rested 
his  warm  gun -barrels  on  the 
wall-top,  he  felt  with  a  glow 
of  satisfaction  that  he  could 
face  with  equanimity  the  stolid 
question  he  had  been  so  dread- 
ing ten  minutes  before,  "  Any- 
thing to  pick  up,  sir  ?  "  A 
few  more  scattered  shots  and 
the  drive  was  over.  The  guns 
came  out,  and  Dicky  stood  by 
his  butt  waiting  while  two 
drivers  and  a  dog  collected 
seven  brace  that  had  fallen 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


453 


around  him.  Feeling  less  afraid 
to  face  his  friend,  he  shouldered 
his  gun  and  strolled  down  to 
watch  Lady  bring  in  the  last 
of  Chapman's  birds. 

"  See  you've  got  on  to  them. 
You  were  plating  some  good 
ones  then.  Feeling  better 
now  1  " 

"  My  word — I  am.  Felt  such 
a  fool  before." 

"  No  need  to.  Everybody 
has  bad  days — sometimes  bad 
seasons.  We're  going  down  to 
lunch  now.  We  come  back  and 
beat  this  the  other  way  then. 
You'll  be  number  three.  Not 
so  good  a  butt  as  the  lower 
ones,  but  good  enough." 


They  went  down-hill,  and 
assisted  in  a  search  for  two 
birds  which  their  host  was  sure 
were  dead  within  thirty  yards 
of  his  butt,  but  which  both  his 
own  dog  and  Lady  stated  to  be 
entirely  mythical.  After  ten 
minutes  of  assurances  that  "  I 
know  almost  exactly  where 
they  are — dead  ? — never  saw 
birds  fall  cleaner,"  the  search 
was  abandoned,  and  the  whole 
party  trooped  down  to  a  rubble- 
stone  hut  standing  a  bowshot 
from  the  lowest  butt.  As 
they  stamped  and  clattered  up 
the  steps  before  it,  Phyllis 
and  Elsie  appeared  at  the 
door. 


(To  be  continued.) 


454 


[Oct. 


FEOM  THE   OUTPOSTS. 


SEVEN   YEARS   OP  WAR  AND   THE   SALT  RANGE. 


BY  "PUNJAB  CAPTAIN.' 


THE  grubby  dusty  carriage 
of  the  longest  railway  system 
in  the  world  had  square  wheels 
— at  least  so  it  seemed  to  the 
young  soldier,  just  back  from 
seven  years  of  miscellaneous 
campaigning,  who  clung  to  the 
edge  of  a  bunk  to  prevent  him- 
self from  going  through  the  roof. 

At  about  midnight,  a  great 
clanking  of  couplings  and  bump- 
ing of  buffers  showed  that  the 
train  had  drawn  up  alongside 
the  row  of  smoky  oil-lamps 
of  Campbellpur  Junction.  On 
the  gritty  stone  platform  a 
half-dozen  blue-chinned,  love- 
locked  frontier  policemen,  with 
their  broad  sword  -  bayonets 
fixed  to  their  Martini  car- 
bines, stood  round  a  handful 
of  heavily  -  chained  prisoners. 
These  were  Wazirs  taken  in 
some  rough-and-tumble  amid 
the  stony  tangles  of  the  Salt 
Eange  the  night  before.  Their 
great  deep  jaws  and  gleaming 
eyes  marked  them  as  almost 
nearer  akin  to  the  leopard 
than  to  the  kindly  world  of 
men.  Their  hard  faces  recalled 
to  the  soldier  another  night 
more  than  five  years  earlier 
before  Festubert,  when  a  trio  of 
just  such  mettle  harried  a  patrol 
of  five-and-twenty  Westphali- 
ans  across  the  No  Man's  Land 
back  through  their  own  wire. 

The  train  was  in  no  hurry, 


and  the  soldier  had  ample 
leisure  to  contrast  the  silent 
immobility  of  the  Moslem  north- 
erners with  the  quacking  of  a 
party  of  sleek  sensual-featured 
banias,  thinly  disguised  in  the 
blue  serge  jackets  of  ticket  in- 
spectors and  passenger  guards, 
who  soon  raised  a  clamour  to 
extract  some  illegal  gratifica- 
tion from  a  Jat  bumpkin  in 
the  next  coach.  In  due  season 
the  train  moved  on  with  the 
clatter  of  a  dozen  boiler- shops, 
prodigious  whistling  and  wav- 
ing of  green  flags,  at  the  dizzy 
rate  of  some  twelve  miles  to  the 
hour.  The  soldier  dreamt  that 
he  was  back  in  "  Port  Arthur," 
and  that  the  nightly  crumping 
of  5*9 's  was  clanging  in  splin- 
ters against  the  cauldrons  of 
that  erstwhile  brewery. 

A  large  youthful  face,  rather 
like  that  of  a  horse,  poked  itself 
through  the  window  as  the 
train  drew  to  a  stop,  and  its 
owner  announced  that  the  des- 
tination had  arrived.  The 
owner  was  the  captain's  orderly, 
who,  three  years  before,  a  puny 
boy  of  four  foot  nothing  in 
stature,  had  thrust  his  way 
into  an  orderly-room  with  half 
a  dozen  playmates  just  bigger 
than  himself,  demanding  to  be 
enlisted.  The  boys  were  Khat- 
taks,  and  even  in  1917  lack  of 
size  and  age  were  apt  to  be 


1921.] 


Seven  Years  of  War  and  the  Salt  Range. 


455 


overlooked  when  enlisting  Khat- 
taks.  However,  four  foot  noth- 
ing seemed  to  exceed  the  bounds 
that  a  measuring-stick  can  be 
strained  to  read  to,  and  he  was 
projected  into  the  roadway. 
Observing  that  there  was  an- 
other door  to  the  orderly-room, 
he  dodged  the  havildar  major 
and  popped  in  through  it, 
announcing  that  his  father  had 
been  killed  and  that  he  insisted 
on  being  enlisted.  After  three 
more  ejectments  a  place  was 
found  for  him  amongst  the  bu- 
glers. Then — it  seemed  almost 
in  defiance  of  his  superior  offi- 
cers' expressed  opinion,  and 
hence  of  good  order  and  mili- 
tary discipline — he  proceeded 
to  grow.  In  two  years'  time 
he  had  acquired  a  stature  of 
five  foot  eleven,  a  chest  meas- 
urement of  forty,  and  a  shrap- 
nel bullet  through  that  same 
chest  in  the  barrage  that  pre- 
ceded a  Turkish  counter-attack 
before  Jaffa.  From  this  he 
was  now  recuperating  by  a 
ten-day  visit  to  his  aged  mother, 
his  only  surviving  relation,  and 
showing  his  captain  the  sights 
of  his  homeland. 

It  was  four  in  the  morning 
and  piercingly  cold.  Before 
the  soldier,  his  servant,  and  his 
orderly  were  properly  out  of 
the  train,  the  inevitable  pasty- 
faced  babu  waddled  up,  blither- 
ing about  the  delay.  The  young 
Khattak  Niamat  silenced  him 
with  three  incisive  but  not 
actionable  words,  to  the  joy 
of  the  bystanders,  attributing 
to  him  an  ancestry  from 
Hindustan,  perhaps  the  last 
insult  in  the  Punjab. 


A  hawk -faced  grey -haired 
pointsman,  clad  in  the  great- 
coat of  brown  blanketing  sup- 
plied by  the  railway  to  its 
employees,  entertained  the  sol- 
dier with  the  local  gossip  by 
the  regardless-of-expense  coal 
fire  in  the  twelve  by  ten 
station  hut. 

Seven  years  of  the  "  King's 
War,"  and  all  the  able-bodied 
men  still  far  away  across  the 
sea. 

The  stalwart  Gunners  of  the 
Salt  Eange  served  their  guns 
by  the  Caspian  shore,  the 
frosty  Caucasus,  the  wilds  of 
Kurdistan,  and  in  the  great 
concreted  emplacements  of 
Hong  -  Kong  and  Singapur. 
Lanky  cavalry  troopers,  men 
from  the  valley  plains  these, 
were  engaged  with  Bolshevik 
and  revolting  Arab ;  whilst 
scores  of  thousands  of  the 
stubborn  thick-set  infantrymen, 
who  call  these  bare  stark  hills 
their  home,  bore  the  King's 
burden  on  their  willing  shoul- 
ders in  fifty  fields.  No  talk 
of  "  war  weariness  "  here,  nor 
of  "  engagement  for  the  dura- 
tion," though  every  eighth  man, 
enlisted  of  his  own  free  will,  lay 
in  a  distant  grave. 

Meanwhile  gangs  of  desper- 
ate raiders,  Wazirs,  Mahsuds, 
and  Khostwals,  harried  the 
tiny  stone-walled  and  towered 
hamlets  of  the  Indus  val- 
leys, where  many  a  childless 
widow  bewailed  a  grave  she 
had  never  seen  in  front  of 
La  Basse"e,  Wieltje,  or  the 
Sanniyat. 

In  an  hour  young  Niamat 
returned,  cajoling  and  brow- 


456 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Oct. 


beating  by  turns  a  slippered 
and  wheezy  ancient,  whose 
long  hair  fell  on  his  shoulders, 
and  who  led  by  the  nose  three 
camels  of  discontented  appear- 
ance. They  seemed  to  resent 
being  made  to  work  before 
sun-up,  when  the  morning  was 
far  from  being  properly  aired. 
With  sulky  scowls  and  insub- 
ordinate groans  the  gawky 
beasts  folded  up  their  long  legs 
by  sections,  bending  them  in 
all  sorts  of  unexpected  direc- 
tions, and  subsided  on  to  the 
ground.  The  ancient  suddenly 
produced  from  nowhere  four 
very  excellent  coarse  nets,  oval 
in  shape,  expertly  and  strongly 
woven  from  the  fibre  of  a  small 
tree  called ' '  Majari. ' '  Into  these 
Niamat  and  Yakub  the  servant 
tumbled  the  modest  belongings 
of  the  party — a  sleeping-bag, 
a  few  brown  blankets,  a  Hima- 
layan snow-porter's  basket,  full 
of  enamelledplates,  mugs,  sauce- 
pans, tins  of  jam,  tea,  and 
packets  of  cartridges.  Then, 
gathering  up  the  corners,  the 
ancient  lashed  them  together 
with  more  fibre,  and  slung  them 
over  the  camel's  back.  To  the 
blue-beaded  dignified  neck  of 
the  senior  camel  was  hitched 
the  inevitable  cheap  tin  Ameri- 
can lantern;  the  two  youths 
shouldered  the  Mannlicher  and 
the  Martini,  and  the  little 
caravan  was  soon  trudging 
north  by  west.  The  track, 
just  nine  inches  wide,  was 
nearly  but  never  quite  cleared 
of  the  interminable  shingly 
stones  by  the  feet  of  countless 
camels.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  railway  signal  was  out 


of  sight  behind  one  of  the 
many  bare  backbones  of  rock 
that  jutted  up  along  the  ridges, 
and  nothing  except  the  two 
rifles  and  the  tin  lamp  remained 
to  tell  the  young  soldier  that 
he  was  not  travelling  in  the 
twelfth  century,  when  Mahmud 
ruled  in  Ghazni  and  took  his 
armies  of  fair-skinned  Nordic 
westerners  over  these  ranges 
to  conquer  and  hand  down  the 
land  to  their  progeny  who 
serve  the  King  of  England, 
just  as  Duke  William  carved 
up  Saxon  England  to  make 
fiefs  for  the  Nordic  ancestors 
of  their  officers. 

The  chill  pearly  dawn  soon 
changed  to  a  warmer  pink, 
and  the  growing  light  displayed 
the  sharp  jagged  crests  of  the 
ranges  on  both  sides.  Yellow 
sandstone  mixed  with  grey 
granite  and  streaked  with  lines 
of  black  formed  these  stark 
hills,  cut  up  by  countless  laby- 
rinths of  little  valleys,  shingly 
as  the  sea-shore.  Here  and 
there  a  clump  of  camel-thorn 
gave  a  touch  of  almost  indis- 
tinguishable green.  Yet  rarer 
still,  on  the  brow  of  some  fold 
in  the  ground,  a  little  flat- 
roofed  house,  built  of  the  same 
all-pervading  round  stones, 
was  with  difficulty  separated 
by  the  eye  from  its  surround- 
ings. Just  below  each  house  a 
little  patch  of  ground  covered 
with  faint  parallel  lines,  still 
overwhelmed  by  the  flood  of 
stones,  showed  a  struggling 
attempt  at  cultivation.  Here 
men  with  muscles  of  steel 
fought  with  pitiless  nature  to 
win  each  year  the  few  bushels 


1921.] 


Seven  Years  of  War  and  the  Salt  Range. 


457 


of  wheat  that  sustained  their 
gallant  hearts. 

In  a  little  enclosure  fenced 
round  with  cut  thorns,  a  yard 
high,  a  busily  moving  figure  in 
a  knee-long  dark  blue  jumper 
surmounting  flowing  crimson 
trousers  of  immense  width, 
showed  where  the  wife  or 
widow  of  some  distant  Punjabi 
soldierman  fed  her  chickens  or 
milked  the  family  cow  for  the 
gaffers'  early  breakfast.  Every- 
where nature  in  her  hardest 
and  most  pitiless  mood  :  beet- 
ling razor-crested  hills  ;  water- 
less valleys  ;  thorn-trees,  thorn 
bushes,  and  thorn  fence — all 
under  an  all-mastering  flood 
of  grey  stones  and  boulders. 

Only  in  the  smiling  gallant 
faces  of  the  people,  their  clean 
aquiline  features  and  stead- 
fast eyes,  did  one  see  the 
other  side  of  the  picture.  All 
nature's  smoothnesses  seemed 
to  have  been  reft  from  the 
land  and  placed  in  their  merry 
uncomplaining  hearts.  The 
soldier  thought  of  the  old  glad 
days  when  the  villages  and 
the  battalions  still  held  crowds 
of  laughing  young  Khattaks 
and  Awans,  whose  clean -run 
sinewy  limbs  and  lithe  steely 
forms  twisted  in  dances  and 
Spartan  games  day  in  and  day 
out.  Then  another  picture 
followed,  of  those  same  cheery 
singing  lips  going  to  their  death 
to  moulder  on  the  close-strung 
wire  before  Festubert,  or  to  be 
engulfed  in  some  swamp  of 
the  Eufiji. 

Towards  noon  the  track  took 
a  turn  to  the  westward,  and 
dropped  down  amidst  thorn- 


trees  into  a  sandy  ravine  that 
runs  down  into  the  great  Indus. 

On  a  shoulder  jutting  out 
into  the  stream  spread  the 
little  cobbled  market  town  of 
the  district :  tiny  stone-walled 
houses,  with  here  and  there 
the  stall  of  a  cobbler  or  of  a 
grain-seller,  and  just  on  the 
edge,  "  between  the  desert  and 
the  sown,"  the  white,  sharply 
outlined  shrine  of  the  local  saint. 
On  one  or  two  knolls  a  short  rifle- 
shot from  the  village,  the  glint- 
ing bayonet  and  khaki  uniform 
of  a  frontier  policeman  showed 
the  need  for  watching  against 
the  ever-active  raider.  A  couple 
of  hundred  yards  from  the 
village  a  mud  rest-house,  built 
for  the  local  police  officer  visit- 
ing his  out-stations,  afforded  a 
roof  to  the  casual  traveller, 
and  here  our  soldier  dumped 
his  few  belongings. 

A  cotton  drugget,  a  wooden 
springless  bedstead  strung  with 
webbing,  a  few  crippled  chairs 
and  battered  enamel  plates, 
made  up,  with  a  whitewashed 
mud  wall,  what  goes  for  luxury 
and  comfort  in  the  Indian 
Empire. 

A  meal  and  then  a  stroll 
round  that  brought  much  of 
interest.  Through  the  little 
cobbled  street  of  the  village 
the  way  ran  down  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  huge  river,  whose 
waters  washed  the  walls  of  the 
houses.  Here  the  giant  ran 
confined  between  steep  cliffs, 
making  up  for  his  deprivation 
of  elbow-room  by  a  vast  swirl- 
ing depth.  On  the  very  nose 
of  the  headland  a  verandahed, 
stone,  single-storey  house  looked 


458 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Oct. 


right  down  into  the  frigid 
eddies  and  whirlpools.  This 
was  the  new  residence  of  the 
Khan,  for  which  he  had  aban- 
doned the  near-by  ancestral 
castle  with  its  high  loopholed 
walls  and  dark  rooms  topped 
with  the  machicolated  cor- 
ner towers.  From  this  his 
forebears  with  their  steel- 
capped  chain-surcoated  tail  had 
swooped  down  for  generations 
to  plunder  the  fat  plains.  A 
minute  or  two  later  a  bando- 
liered  and  sheep-skin  cloaked 
policeman  came  up  with  an 
invitation  to  tea  in  the  Khan's 
house.  The  old  gentleman  sat 
out  in  his  verandah  basking 
in  the  glow  of  the  afternoon 
sun,  surrounded  by  falconers, 
hooded  hawk  on  wrist,  and  by 
shapely  greyhounds.  The  Mo- 
hammedan religion  is  some- 
what strict  in  the  matter  of 
dogs,  but  in  the  Northern 
Punjab,  Puritan  though  it  be, 
sport  is  a  little  apt  to  over- 
shadow religion,  so  hounds  and 
gun  dogs  are  conveniently  ex- 
empted from  the  blight  that 
falls  on  the  rest.  Not  infre- 
quently does  the  flashing-eyed 
sporting  cleric  of  those  parts 
gather  up  his  robes  into  a  high- 
peaked  saddle  and  enjoy  a 
gallop  after  hawk  or  hare, 
that  he  may  not  be  too  un- 
compromising in  more  ecclesi- 
astical moments. 

Gradually  the  village  wor- 
thies dropped  in,  and  the  talk 
turned  soon  to  tales  of  the  war. 
So-and-so  had  just  had  a  letter 
months  old  from  a  young 
brother  serving  iri^an  engine- 
room  up  at  Murmansk,  describ- 


ing how  he  had  been  tor- 
pedoed that  winter  in  the 
North  Atlantic.  Such  a  one 
had  a  yarn  to  spin  of  Japanese 
at  Tsing-tao  and  the  suppress- 
ing of  the  mutiny  of  an  Indian 
regiment  at  Singapur,  which 
was  promptly  capped  by  a 
patriarch,  who  had  a  tale  to 
tell  of  the  storming  of  Peking, 
his  company  ahead  of  all  the 
Allied  troops,  and  then  the 
sack  of  the  Summer  Palace.  A 
gunner  brought  his  audience  to 
far  Tibet,  assaulting  columns 
blowing  in  Jong  gates,  and 
ten-pounder  shrapnel  bursting 
over  masses  of  pigtailed  swords- 
men. The  scene  shifted  to  the 
Soudan,  when  Punjabi  bayonet 
out-matched  Berber  spear  in 
the  scorched  sandhills  outside 
Suakin,  when  the  "  fuzzy  - 
wuzzy "  broke  a  British 
square,  and  to  a  long  for- 
gotten "  mission  "  to  the  King 
of  Yarkand,  when  a  troop  of 
a  famous  Corps  first  carried 
the  Queen's  badges  into  an 
uncharted  Siberian  Province. 
Another  old  man  of  the 
famed  regiment  that  saved  the 
doubtful  day  at  Ahmed  Khel, 
when  the  Ghazis  swept  over 
the  East  Lancashires  and  up 
to  the  muzzles  of  the  forty- 
pounder  elephant  guns,  hoped 
for  news  of  his  son  who  had 
survived  the  holocaust  of  the 
Sanniyat  and  El  Henna,  and 
was  now  in  Kurdistan. 

So  the  talk  sped  from  the 
bleak  wastes  of  Mongolia  to 
the  jungles  of  Kumassi,  and 
from  Flanders,  Artois,  and 
Picardy  to  gun-pits  on  the 
Vardar,  to  the  khors  of  Aden, 


1921.] 


Seven  Tears  of  War  and  the  Salt  Range. 


459 


and  the  Somali  coasts,  until 
the  sun  dipped  in  flaming 
orange  over  the  Afghan  hills. 

The  young  soldier  strolled 
slowly  back  to  his  simple  palli- 
asse with  the  hospitable  salu- 
tations of  the  frontier  ringing 
in  his  ears,  and  his  mind  trying 
to  compass  the  picture  of  the 
debonair  youth  of  this  little 
village  spread  over  half  the 
known  globe. 

Next  day,  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, the  party  clambered  into 
the  heavy-timbered  broad  ferry- 
boat, full  of  exhortations  from 
the  Khan's  major-domo  to 
keep  their  weather-eye  lifting 
for  Wazir  raiders.  The  ferry- 
man was  in  no  hurry,  and  he 
waited  for  small  boys  to  cajole 
calves  and  goats  into  the  boat ; 
whilst  two  or  three  ancient 
crimson-trousered  dames  from  a 
Khattak  village  collected  their 
marketing  round  them,  the 
dozen  or  so  odd  parcels  beloved 
all  the  world  over  of  old  women 
out  shopping. 

In  due  course,  with  a  thrust 
of  his  great  steering  oar,  the 
old  ferryman  brought  the  nose 
of  his  lumbering  craft  surg- 
ing away  from  the  beach  into 
the  swirl  of  the  icy  river. 
A  steel  wire  hawser  kept  her 
from  being  whisked  away  down- 
stream, and  the  force  of  the 
current,  together  with  the  nicely 
judged  handling  of  the  boat- 
man's sweep,  carried  her  slowly 
across. 

The  passengers  sitting  about 
in  the  decked-in  poop  soon 
made  each  other's  acquaint- 
ance. An  old  Hindu,  who 
eyjdently  £ept  some  village 


shop,  his  grey  hair  grown  long 
and  tied  in  the  Sikh  fashion, 
in  deference  to  the  strongly 
expressed  views  of  the  frontier 
on  heathenism  and  idolatry, 
produced  a  large  chunk  of 
sugar-candy  out  of  a  basket, 
and  offered  it  politely  to  the 
three  soldiers. 

As  the  ferry-boat  crunched 
on  to  the  shingle  under  the 
cliffs  of  the  right  bank,  a  pair 
of  slim  boyish  figures  ran  light- 
ly down  to  the  gunwale,  their 
gold-embroidered,  scarlet-tufted 
sandals  scarcely  disturbing  a 
stone.  These  were  two  brothers 
wearing  the  badges  of  a  Frontier 
Militia  Corps,  and  in  their  well- 
cut  khaki  coats,  with  their 
clean-chiselled  almost  girlish 
Aryan  features,  still  beardless, 
they  seemed  hardly  sixteen 
years  old.  They  cheerily 
saluted  the  young  soldier,  like 
automata,  with  the  "  may  you 
never  be  weary  "  of  the  Pathan, 
and  explained  their  service  in 
the  Militia  by  their  youth  and 
lack  of  stature,  which  kept 
them  out  of  a  Regular  Regi- 
ment. They  were  combining 
business  with  pleasure — a  few 
days'  leave  at  home,  with  a 
bright  eye  lifting  for  news  of  a 
certain  gang  of  raiders  operat- 
ing in  that  vicinity. 

The  Khan  had  arranged 
the  night  before  for  three 
more  camels,  and  these  met 
the  ferry  on  the  far  bank.  In 
charge  of  them  was  an  old 
man  with  a  roguish  eye,  who 
had  spent  years  camel-driving 
in  Queensland,  and  still  remem- 
bered to  say,  "  Mornin',  Boss," 
with  a  strong  Australian  ac- 


460 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Oct. 


cent.  The  baggage  atop  of  the 
camels,  the  wanderers  tramped 
along  in  the  clear  morning  air, 
up  amongst  the  clean  stones 
and  sand  of  a  dry-stream  bed, 
walled  in  by  low  cliffs  and 
tumbled  rock  slides.  Every- 
where this  all-pervading  clean- 
ness and  newly  scoured  impres- 
sion that  the  frontier  hills 
leave  on  the  senses.  Outside 
the  alleys  of  the  town  every- 
thing is  pure  nature  and  every- 
thing is  clean.  Had  the  great 
god  Pan  suddenly  appeared 
round  a  corner  of  the  cliffs,  he 
would  have  seemed  just  as 
much  in  the  picture  as  a  gang 
of  bandoliered  marauders. 

Gradually  the  track  climbed, 
always  going  north  by  west 
on  to  a  stony  upland  that  in 
a  less  stern  land  would  have 
been  sheep-grazing  down. 

The  sun  had  begun  to  warm 
the  air,  and  the  track  to  de- 
scend again,  exchanging  red 
sandstone  for  the  grey  granite 
of  its  former  surroundings.  A 
little  hollow  in  the  ground  held 
a  well,  with  another  beak-nosed, 
hawk-eyed  old  man  sitting  on 
its  brink,  anathematising  its 
dryness.  There  seemed  no  rea- 
son to  hurry,  and  the  slow-footed 
camels  were  a  long  way  behind, 
so  all  hands  sat  down  to  sym- 
pathise with  him. 

He  was  very  worried  about 
the  newly-sunk  well,  now  some 
thirty  feet  deep,  with  nothing 
but  a  little  damp  sand  at  the 
bottom.  The  deeper  they  dug 
it,  the  farther  the  water-level 
seemed  to  sink. 

Soon,  from  a  little  side  track, 
another  old  man  turned  up, 


apparently  the  elder  brother  of 
the  first.  He  walked  up  in  an 
aggrieved  manner,  commiserat- 
ing with  himself  loudly  in  hav- 
ing such  a  worthless  brother 
who  could  not  even  produce 
water  out  of  a  thirty-foot  well. 
The  younger  greybeard,  noth- 
ing loath,  joined  issue  with  him, 
mixing  positive  assertion  with 
flat  contradiction.  The  tourney 
was  well  under  way  when 
Bimbo  Major  caught  sight  of 
the  young  officer  sitting  amongst 
the  group.  Forthwith  apolo- 
gising for  the  unseemly  be- 
haviour of  his  cadet,  who  was 
now  thoroughly  crushed,  he 
offered  a  welcome  to  their  little 
stone  home,  a  hundred  yards 
away,  amongst  chickens  and 
thorn  fences,  and  would  take 
no  refusal.  Soon  the  whole 
party  were  sitting  in  the  guest- 
room of  the  little  house,  the 
officer  in  the  best  chair,  and 
the  others  on  the  edge  of  lac- 
quered-legged bedsteads,  strung 
with  an  astonishingly  fine  fibre 
rope,  twisted  by  the  devoted 
fingers  of  wives  and  daughters. 
The  two  hosts  were  both,  of 
course,  old  soldiers,  with  three 
sons  in  the  Army,  all,  as  it 
happened,  in  Palestine.  As  the 
visitors  drank  milk  from  bowls 
of  Eussian  china,  requests  for 
news  of  old  regiments  and  old 
officers  gradually  gave  way  to 
tales  of  fighting.  Two  of  the 
sons  of  the  house  had  served 
in  the  gallant  old  6th  P.  I., 
now  the  Eoyal  Scinde  Eifles, 
in  that  glorious  March  day  of 
Neuve  Chapelle,  when  the 
Ehinelanders  were  swept  out 
of  the  village  and.  stubborn. 


1921.] 


Seven  Tears  of  War  and  the  Salt  Range. 


461 


North-Country  bayonets  beat 
off  counter-attack  after  counter- 
attack. The  talk  shifted  to  old 
tales  of  Punjab  folklore,  and 
in  five  minutes  the  young 
soldier's  astonished  ears  were 
listening  to  a  legend  of  the 
"  preux  chevalier,"  Salah-ud- 
din,  and  his  knightly  adversary, 
Eichard  of  England.  Such  were 
the  gallant  stories  that  served 
to  guide  the  youthful  man-at- 
arms  of  the  unconquered  Salt 
Eange,  and  keep  him  bound  by 
the  clean  laws  of  the  Aryan 
fighting  man.  The  hearer  re- 
membered tiny  Belgian  children 
with  their  hands  lopped  off  at 
the  wrists,  and  the  loathing  of 
his  Punjabis  at  Mongol-Prussian 
brutishness. 

The  day  was  drawing  on, 
so  saying  good-bye  to  the 
cheery  old  talkative  brothers, 
the  party  tramped  on  again 
over  the  stones.  They  caught 
up  the  camels  as  they  were 
clambering  down  the  declivity 
into  a  great  dry  watercourse. 
By  the  time  the  procession  had 
climbed  up  again  to  the  high 
ground  on  the  far  side  the 
sun  was  low  in  the  sky, 
but  their  destination  was  in 
sight,  a  couple  of  miles  away, 
in  the  middle  of  a  shallow 
saucer-shaped  plain,  surrounded 
by  rockv  ridges  that  leapt 
sharply  up  like  the  flanks  of 
great  wall-sided  cruisers. 

During  the  long  day  the 
young  soldier  remembered  hav- 
ing met  a  number  of  quietly 
busy  women,  small  children, 
and  greybeards,  but  not  a 
single  full-grown  man.  This 
was  food  for  thought  indeed. 

VOL.  cox. — NO.  Mcoxxxn. 


The  seventh  year  of  the  war, 
and  the  surviving  manhood  of 
these  gallant  valleys  still  far 
away,  fighting  unsung  battles 
with  Turk,  Arab,  Bolshevik, 
and  Mahsud,  whilst  pampered 
so-called  soldiers  talked  of  their 
rights. 

The  night  halt  was  made  in 
the  stone  -  walled,  steel -gated, 
loopholed  police  post  that  is 
the  hub  of  the  half-dozen 
scattered  hamlets  that  occupy 
the  plain  of  Shakardarra,  "  the 
vale  of  sweetness."  The  sub- 
inspector  of  police,  himself  an 
Awan  from  farther  north,  made 
the  travellers  welcome,  and 
lost  no  time  in  explaining 
that  the  bottom  had  fallen 
out  of  his  world  for  the  time 
being.  He  had  heard  by  that 
morning's  post  of  his  failure 
in  his  examination  for  promo- 
tion to  inspector. 

Not  without  some  cause  does 
the  Punjabi  loathe  the  sickly 
"  conscientious-objector  "  type 
of  book-learning  that  has  spread 
itself  like  a  plague  over  Hin- 
dustan, and  now  gnaws  at  his 
own  land.  It  takes  a  race  of 
stout  stamina  to  withstand  the 
moral  undermining  of  the  board 
school,  and  the  bemedalled 
Punjabi  husbandman  does  not 
enjoy  the  sight  of  his  young 
sons  sitting  at  the  feet  of  a 
thick-lipped,  yellow-eyed,  down- 
country  school  teacher  to  suck 
in  the  contents  of  "  decadent  " 
school-books. 

This  sentiment  is  not  lost 
on  the  parasite  class,  the 
blood-sucking  usurers  and  sons 
of  usurers,  and  fathers  of 
Conference  delegates,  who  turn 
8 


462 


From  the  Outposts. 


FOct. 


it  to  their  own  advantage. 
The  least  positions  in  the  swarm- 
ing official  ants '-nest  are  the 
prize  of  examination  passers, 
and  every  sticky  palm  that 
handles  public  money  is  on 
the  hand  of  one  of  the  para- 
sites. 

Next  morning  visitors  began 
to  drop  in — grizzled  havildars 
and  naiks,  with  an  occasional 
grey-haired  pensioned  officer 
from  each  of  the  old  frontier 
regiments.  From  the  mouth 
of  each  came  the  cheery  saluta- 
tion of  the  borderland,  welcom- 
ing the  visitor  to  their  country 
with  the  courtesy  of  a  marquis 
of  the  "  ancien  regime." 

By  the  time  the  tea  was 
brewed  in  the  Eussian  teapot 
and  the  cigarettes  were  being 
passed  round,  a  dozen  patri- 
archal but  straight-backed  old 
gentlemen  were  sitting  round 
the  room  on  three-legged  chairs, 
boxes,  and  bags,  inquiring  after 
the  fate  of  a  nephew  last  heard 
of  in  Flanders,  a  son  in  East 
Africa  or  Palestine,  or  a  young 
brother  in  Mesopotamia.  Not 
one  seemed  to  think  it  at  all 
unusual  or  even  a  matter  for 
comment  that  every  able- 
bodied  young  man  should  still 
be  overseas  in  1921,  or  that 
the  numbers  of  killed  in  the 
old  frontier  regiments  should 
be  the  greatest  in  the  Army. 
Incidentally,  the  soldier  be- 
thought hirn  that  the  percent- 
ages [of  voluntarily  -  enlisted 
men  killed  from  these  three 
unassuming  districts  of  Attock, 
Jhelum,  and  Eawalpindi  were 
at]|least  twice  as  great  as 
those  of  any  county  in  Eng- 


land. Then  a  picture  came 
up  in  his  mind  of  two  young 
Punjabi  girls,  who,  fired  by  the 
example  of  their  brothers,  brib- 
ing a  doctor,  enlisted  in  a  Sikh 
regiment.  Contrasted  with  this 
was  another.  In  the  same 
week,  late  in  1917,  in  the  mess- 
house  of  a  Eegiment  which 
might  have  been  spared  the 
indignity,  a  "  tribunal "  as- 
sembled before  which  all  the 
able-bodied  white  civilians  of  the 
district  claimed  "  total  exemp- 
tion. ' '  The  great  German  offen- 
sive was  even  then  on  the 
stocks,  and  Eussia  had  tumbled 
into  ruin.  Several  districts  of 
Hindustan,  holding  each  a  mil- 
lion souls,  had  even  gone  so  far 
as  to  provide  a  recruit  apiece, 
for  non-combatant  service,  be 
it  well  understood.  The  Great 
Indian  War  Effort  did  not  cease 
at  that,  for  some  devoted  ad- 
ministrations, after  months  of 
talk,  identified  their  high  ideals 
with  certain  labour  corps,  at 
treble  the  emoluments  of  the 
"  mercenary  "  Punjabi  soldier. 
They  certainly  deserved  high 
pay,  for  had  not  they  exacted  a 
promise  that  they  should  never 
be  employed  under  fire  ?  Brain 
power  always  commands  a 
higher  reward  than  mere  can- 
non fodder,  and  were  they  not 
organised  and  raised  by  the 
civil  power,  at  the  expense 
of  the  home  taxpayer? 

Early  next  morning  the  young 
soldier  rose,  guided  by  half  a 
dozen  small  boys  and  old  grey- 
beards, and  clambered  over  the 
sharp  rocks  of  one  of  the  steep 
ridges  that  overlooked  the  ham- 
let. Three  hours'  toil,  rifle  in 


1921.] 


Seven  Tears  of  War  and  the  Salt  Range. 


463 


hand,  now  over  shingly  torrent 
beds,  now  up  rocky  scarps, 
resulted  in  a  shameful  miss  at  a 
fine  big  ram  that  carried  a  head 
of  fully  thirty-two  inches. 

Old  Arsala  Khan,  who  di- 
rected the  stalk,  was  too  polite 
to  say  what  he  thought,  but 
he  looked  reproachful  enough  to 
abash  a  Bolshevik  commissar. 
So  it  was  a  less  sprightly  party 
that  got  back  to  the  little  stone 
post  in  time  for  tea.  Another 
traveller  had  arrived  by  then, 
who  occupied  a  spare  room. 
A  civil  official  he  was,  a  pleasing 
change  from  most  of  them, 
since  he  was  a  Pathan  himself, 
and  not  a  flat-chested  Hindu- 
stani. The  room  that  he  sat 
in  was  crowded  with  widows, 
all  in  the  uniform  dress  of  the 
Baraks  and  Bangi  Khel,  mostly 
holding  chubby  fair-haired  chil- 
dren, who,  thumb  in  mouth, 
watched  the  proceedings  with 
judicial  gravity,  in  silence  and 
short  shirts.  The  revenue  man, 
for  such  he  was,  was  busy 
distributing  doles  subscribed 
by  distant  kind-hearted  English 
people,  six  thousand  miles 
away,  to  the  poor  mothers  of 
sons  lost  in  the  King's  cause. 

The  young  soldier  learnt 
much  in  the  next  hour.  The 
Punjabi  soldier  has  no  well- 
organised  Eecord  Office  or  Min- 
istry of  Pensions  to  look  after 
his  home  interests,  nor  any 
separation  allowance  to  feed 
hungry  mouths  in  a  man- 
less  countryside,  ravaged  by 
drought  and  foreign  raiders. 
So  the  young  soldier  was  en- 
trusted by  as  many  grave  old 
ladies  with  a  dozen  commis- 


sions to  carry  out.  For  Fatima 
Begum,  he  was  to  find  out 
what  had  become  of  her  second 
and  only  surviving  son  Mukar- 
rab  ;  for  Farakh  Jan,  he  was 
to  do  something  to  solve  the 
problem  of  filling  eight  infant 
or  greybeard  mouths  on  a 
pension  of  a  few  shillings  a 
month,  less  than  a  merchant 
in  Calcutta  or  a  Deputy  Secre- 
tary in  Simla  pays  to  feed  his 
dogs. 

When  business  was  ended, 
and  the  quiet  widows,  gather- 
ing up  their  children,  had 
passed  out  to  their  homes,  a 
cavalryman  came  in,  one  of 
the  very  few  enlisted  from  that 
valley.  He  was  a  dafadar, 
invalided  from  shell  wounds, 
of  one  of  those  regiments  that 
the  man  in  the  street  delights 
to  call  "  Bengal  Lancers,"  as 
if  they  had  some  connection 
with  Bengal,  or  Bengal  with 
the  Army.  His  last  fight  had 
been  Gouzeaucourt,  where  his 
Brigade,  alongside  the  Guards, 
had  filled  the  gap  left  by  a 
couple  of  panic-stricken  divi- 
sions of  other  mettle.  Tales 
like  this  filled  the  long  evening 
round  the  blazing  fire  of  thorn 
logs,  and  it  was  long  past  their 
usual  bedtime  when  the  last  of 
the  old  gentlemen  tottered  away 
home. 

The  young  soldier  had  better 
luck  with  the  sheep  next  morn- 
ing, and  brought  a  useful  young 
ram  home,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  hunks  of  mutton  were 
roasting  in  a  dozen  near-by 
houses.  Leave  was  drawing  to 
a  close,  and  the  cold  morning 
after  saw  the  soldier  on  the 


464 


From  the  Outposts. 


[Oct. 


move  again,  still  westwards, 
to  hit  the  main  frontier  road 
that  skirts  the  "  administra- 
tive "  border,  beyond  which 
the  King's  writ  does  not  run. 
Three  hours  over  rocky  ridges, 
along  goat-tracks,  and  at  the 
bottom  of  tumbled,  dry,  torrent 
beds  led  suddenly  round  a 
corner  to  a  graceful  little  white- 
washed shrine  topped  by  a 
dome  of  the  cleanest  outline, 
whose  atmosphere  brought  back 
that  of  the  tiny  grey  granite 
churches  of  some  remote  parish 
in  Wiltshire  or  Devon.  Its 
guardian  was  quite  ready  for 
a  little  talk,  and  an  hour 
passed  before  the  party  re- 
sumed their  tramp.  Soon  more 
hills  led  down  to  the  broad 
white  dusty  road,  overlooked 
by  a  crag  of  rock.  Amongst 
the  boulders  of  this  there  re- 
clined four  cheerful  greybeards, 
armed  with  Martinis,  who  kept 
watch  for  the  comings  and  go- 
ings of  raiders — an  honorary 
duty  allocated  to  them  in  turn 
by  the  votes  of  the  district. 

Once  on  the  main  road  the 
milestones  showed  but  five 
miles  to  Lachi,  a  little  post 
town  of  the  border,  where  a 
conveyance  could  be  hired  to 
Kohat.  The  party  had  scarcely 
covered  a  mile,  when  the 
sound  of  wheels  was  heard, 
and  a  two-wheeled,  hooded  trap 
pulled  up,  its  wiry  nags  stream- 
ing with  sweat.  Out  from  the 
shandrydan  there  hopped  a 
curious  figure  of  fun,  whip  in 
hand,  with  an  extraordinarily 
ugly  though  cheery  face.  He 
seized  the  young  soldier  by 
the  arm,  and  without  a  word 


whisked  him  into  the  front  seat 
of  the  trap.  Niamat  and  Takub 
climbed  into  odd  corners ;  the 
driver,  still  dumb,  sat  on  the 
step ;  another  passenger  re- 
marked curtly  that  the  soldier 
could  not,  of  course,  be  allowed 
to  walk,  and  the  whole  circus 
rattled  off  towards  Lachi.  At 
this  metropolis  an  old  gentle- 
man, a  squireen  of  those  parts, 
with  a  long  grey  beard  and  a 
piercing  blue  eye,  an  old  cavalry 
officer,  seized  the  traveller  again 
and  sat  him  down  before  a  large 
brass  tray  of  biscuits,  samovar, 
and  fruit  in  the  Post  Office, 
whose  official  business  was  sus- 
pended to  do  honour  to  the 
guest. 

Small  boys  and  ancient  serv- 
ing-men flew  and  hobbled  back 
and  forth  on  various  missions, 
now  to  collect  apples,  now  for 
some  more  tea,  and  now  to 
get  ready  a  conveyance  for 
the  drive  into  Kohat. 

Meanwhile  the  old  officer 
demanded  news  of  older  colonels 
of  his  acquaintance.  Where  was 
Colonel  Fitzblood,  who  com- 
manded the  llth  Punjab  In- 
fantry on  the  ridge  before 
Delhi,  in  the  Great  War  ? 
Where  were  Daly  and  Keyes 
and  Wilde?  It  took  a  little 
explaining  to  make  it  clear  to 
the  old  man  that  the  Eeaper 
who  had  spared  his  silver  locks 
had  gathered  in  many  an  old 
soldier  to  his  fathers.  In  the 
middle  of  all  this  a  phenomenon 
appeared,  a  young  able-bodied 
man,  a  junior  N.C.O.,  straight 
home  on  leave  from  his  regi- 
ment on  the  Eussian  frontier. 
By  this  time  the  trap  was 


1921.] 


Seven  Tears  of  War  and  the  Salt  Range. 


465 


ready,  and  the  visitors,  bundling 
themselves  in  and  to  a  chorus 
of  "  staremashayes,"  drove  off, 
the  young  soldier  thrilled  with 
the  pride  of  a  new  appreciation 
of  the  gallant  race  it  was  his 
good  fortune  to  serve  with  :  a 
pride  mingled  with  a  regret 
that  such  a  race,  Nordic  Aryans, 
cousins  of  his  own,  should  be 
threatened  with  extinction  by 
a  fungus  of  Orientalised  bureau- 
cracy, a  Dravidian  wave  sweep- 
ing up  from  the  eastward,  from 
degenerate  Hindustan.  He 
thought  of  whitened  bones 
lying  in  pride  of  place  far  ahead 
of  the  British  line,  on  the  slopes 
of  Aubers  and  on  the  ridges  by 
St  Julien. 

For  the  real  racial  frontier 
between  Europe  and  Asia  is 
not  where  a  pedantic  Chenovnik 


has  stuck  up  a  tricoloured  bar- 
ber's pole  on  the  Ural  slopes 
or  in  far  Lenkoran,  but  on  the 
Sutlej  watershed,  on  the  passes 
of  Baltistan  or  the  untrodden 
Mariong  Pamir,  in  distant  Khu- 
rasan, in  the  rugged  foothills 
of  Kasbek,  where  Aryan  Geor- 
gian struggles  with  Mongol 
Turk  ;  and  finally,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Memen  and  the  Vistula, 
in  the  North  Ukraine,  and 
amongst  Lettish  lakes  and  the 
tundras  of  Finmark.  These 
are  the  tracts  that  divide  the 
Aryan  of  Western  Europe, 
Persia,  Afghanistan,  and  the 
Punjab  from  the  Mongol  of 
Prussia,  Muscovy,  Finland,  and 
Angora,  and  from  the  base 
Dravidian  of  Hindustan,  and 
the  sons  of  Shem  from  Arabia, 
Sind,  and  the  Gulf  shores. 


466 


[Oct. 


A  SHOOTING   TEIP  IN   THE   EMEEALD   ISLE. 


BY  A.  W.   LONG. 


I. 


FOR  some  time  past  my 
brother  Charles  and  I  had  been 
thinking  seriously  of  taking 
a  shooting-lodge  in  the  wild 
West  of  Ireland  for  the  winter, 
and  after  a  long  correspond- 
ence, had  at  last  hit  on  what 
seemed  a  sportsman's  paradise. 
According  to  the  owner,  game 
of  every  kind  seemed  to  be 
touching  each  other  on  this 
particular  estate — grouse,  snipe, 
geese,  plover,  duck  of  all  kinds, 
.hares,  curlew,  and  woodcock. 
Poachers  were  unheard  of,  the 
shooting-lodge  a  home  from 
home ;  and  as  for  the  setters 
— well,  it  would  seem  that 
they  could  do  anything  bar 
talk. 

Our  first  effort  to  take  a 
shooting,  an  advertisement  in 
the  '  Irish  Times,'  was  most 
unfortunate ;  for,  though  it 
produced  many  answers  from 
different  parts  of  Ireland,  hardly 
one  had  any  reference  to  the 
kind  of  shooting  we  required. 
One  man  was  witling  to  let 
us  a  hunting-box  in  Co.  Kil- 
dare,  and  was  quite  sure  that 
rough  shooting  could  be  rented 
in  the  neighbourhood  ;  another 
offered  us  fishing  in  Co.  Cork  ; 
and  one  lady  was  most  anxious 
to  let  her  little  cottage  on 
the  shore  of  some  large  lake, 
where  there  was  excellent 
bathing  and  the  best  of  free 


fishing,  but  only  to  careful 
tenants. 

Our  only  sister,  Mary,  de- 
clined to  venture  to  a  shooting- 
lodge  forty  miles  from  the 
nearest  station,  and  as  the 
owner  described  it,  "  divil  an- 
other decent  house  between  it 
and  America  "  —  from  which 
description  we  concluded  that 
the  lodge  must  be  somewhere 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  Atlantic 
Ocean.  But  though  Mary  was 
going  to  stay  at  home,  yet  she 
took  the  greatest  interest  in 
our  expedition,  and  bought 
every  book  on  the  West  of 
Ireland  she  could  find. 

The  evening  before  we  were 
to  start  for  Ireland,  Mary 
read  us  out  a  description  of 
the  Kingdom  of  Connaught 
from  one  of  her  numerous 
books — one  she  had  picked  up 
in  a  second-hand  bookshop : 
"  It  lieth  under  a  dark-grey 
cloud,  which  is  evermore  dis- 
charging itself  on  the  earth, 
but  like  the  widow's  cruse,  is 
never  exhausted.  It  is  bound- 
ed on  the  south  and  east  by 
Christendom  and  part  of  Tip- 
perary,  on  the  north  by  Done- 
gal, and  on  the  west  by  the 
salt  say.  It  abounds  in  bogs, 
lakes,  and  other  natural  curi- 
osities :  its  soil  consists  of 
equal  parts  of  earth  and  stone, 
and  its  surface  is  so  admirably 


1921. 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


467 


disencumbered  of  trees,  shrubs, 
hedges,  and  ditches  that  an 
intelligent  backwoodsman  from 
Louisiana  was  heard  to  declare 
with  rapture  that  it  was  the 
most  perfectly  cultivated  ter- 
ritory in  Europe."  We  said 
nothing,  but  Charles  lit  the 
candles  and  we  retired  to  bed. 

On  a  fine  October  morning 
we  landed  at  Kingstown,  and 
just  caught  the  breakfast  train 
from  Broadstone  to  the  West ; 
and  after  about  two  hours' 
travelling  through  an  uninter- 
esting country,  changed  on  to 
a  branch  line,  which  would 
carry  us  to  our  destination,  or 
rather  to  the  terminus  from 
which  we  were  to  start  on  our 
forty-mile  drive. 

After  we  had  left  some  small 
station,  the  train  suddenly 
came  to  a  halt,  and  the  guard, 
engine-driver,  and  fireman  held 
an  excited  conversation  on  the 
line.  After  a  considerable  time, 
we  learnt  from  a  fellow-pas- 
senger that  the  train's  "  staff  " 
had  been  left  behind  at  the 
last  station,  and  that  the  guard 
dare  not  proceed  without  it. 
Further  questioning  informed 
us  that  we  were  on  a  single 
line,  and  that  no  train  was 
allowed  to  leave  the  station 
without  the  "staff"  for  the 
next  station. 

It  looked  as  though  we  were 
stuck  indefinitely,  but  luck 
was  with  us.  The  guard  sud- 
denly appeared  to  go  mad, 
yelling,  and  blowing  his  whistle, 
and  waving  his  arms  at  a  man 
riding  a  bicycle  on  the  road, 
which  at  this  point  ran  parallel 
with  the  railway  line.  It 


seemed  that  the  cyclist  was  a 
friend  of  the  guard's,  and 
after  the  promise  of  gallons 
of  porter,  was  induced  to  ride 
back  to  the  last  station,  with 
a  note  to  the  station-master 
to  hand  over  the  missing  staff 
without  delay. 

After  our  long  journey  we 
must  have  fallen  asleep,  for 
presently  we  were  startled  by 
yells  and  cat-calls  from  the 
whole  train,  and  on  looking 
out  of  the  window  saw  the 
cyclist  tearing  down  the  road 
and  waving  the  missing  "  staff  " 
above  his  head ;  and  after  a 
further  delay  of  quite  a  quarter 
of  an  hour — every  man  and 
woman  in  the  train  had  to 
thank  the  cyclist — we  got  under 
way  again. 

Every  station  we  stopped 
at  was  crowded  with  people, 
mostly  young,  who  appeared 
to  do  nothing  but  walk  up 
and  down  the  platform,  criti- 
cising the  travellers  in  the 
train.  A  man  in  our  carriage 
told  us  that  this  was  a  recog- 
nised form  of  amusement  at 
all  rural  stations  in  the  West 
of  Ireland,  and  took  the  place 
of  a  cinema  at  many  small 
towns. 

The  country  now  began  to 
change  —  we  were  passing 
through  the  middle  of  Ireland 
— green  fields  and  hedges  giving 
place  to  bogs  and  rushy  land. 
I  remembered  an  extract  Mary 
had  read  out  of  one  of  her 
numerous  books  on  Ireland, 
describing  the  country  as  an 
ugly  picture  in  a  beautiful 
frame,  and  certainly  the  descrip- 
tion was  most  apt. 


468 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


But  later  on,  after  changing 
again  at  another  junction,  we 
began  to  come  to  the  "  frame," 
and  the  description  still  held 
good.  The  train  began  to 
pass  through  a  wild  and  pic- 
turesque country,  past  great 
lakes  and  huge  bogs  with  beau- 
tiful mountains  in  the  back- 
ground, and  over  all  the  soft 
and  lovely  lights  from  the  low 
autumn  sun. 

Towards  evening  the  train 
at  last  reached  the  terminus 
(several  hours  late  owing  to 
the  "  staff "  episode),  from 
which  we  were  to  start  on  our 
forty-mile  drive  to  the  shooting- 
lodge  ;  but  owing  to  the  late- 
ness of  our  arrival  no  car 
could  be  induced  to  start  before 
next  morning,  one  long-haired 
capless  youth,  with  an  ancient 
"  Ford,"  declaring  that  there 
were  holes  in  the  road  big 
enough  to  swallow  his  car 
and  all. 

So  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done  except  spend  the  night 
at  the  hotel  in  the  town  and 
start  as  early  as  possible  the 
next  morning.  The  long-haired 
youth,  Larry  by  name,  drove 
us  to  the  hotel  in  his  old  Ford, 
and  agreed  to  take  us  out  to 
the  shooting-lodge  the  follow- 
ing morning. 

At  dinner  a  most  amusing 
commercial  traveller  from  Dub- 
lin sat  at  our  table,  and  gave 
us  a  lot  of  information  about 
the  part  of  the  country  we 
were  going  to.  He  also  told 
us  a  story  of  an  English- 
man whom  he  had  met  some 
years  before  in  the  south 
of  Cork,  and  we  prayed  that 


our  fate  might  not  be  the 
same. 

This  Englishman  took  a  large 
tract  of  shooting  in  one  of 
the  wildest  parts  of  the  South 
of  Ireland — a  part  of  Ireland, 
our  friend  the  commercial  as- 
sured us,  where  there  had  been 
no  game  preservation  for  years 
past,  and  every  bog  used  to  be 
shot  by  two  or  three  different 
local  sportsmen  every  day  dur- 
ing the  snipe  season, — and  ar- 
rived with  two  brace  of  grand- 
looking  English  setters.  The 
result  of  the  first  day's  shooting 
was  one  snipe.  The  English- 
man, being  of  a  practical  turn 
of  mind,  on  the  way  back  to 
the  hotel  in  the  evening,  made 
up  his  mind  to  return  to  Eng- 
land the  next  day,  and  started 
to  reckon  up  the  cost  of 
his  trip.  What  between  the 
rent  of  the  shooting,  hotel 
and  travelling  expenses,  the 
amount  came  to  £100.  Turning 
to  the  gillie,  who  was  trudging 
behind  him  carrying  the  one 
and  only  snipe,  he  remarked  : 
"  Well,  Pat,  that  snipe  cost 
me  £100."  "  Begorra,  yer  hon- 
our," replied  the  gillie,  "it's 
lucky  you  didn't  shoot  any 
more." 

The  next  morning  I  was 
roused  from  a  heavy  sleep  by 
violent  knocking  at  my  bed- 
room door,  followed  by  the 
entrance  of  the  hotel  "  boots," 
Pat,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  who 
seemed  anxious  to  know  when 
I  would  be  after  getting  up, 
adding  inconsequently  that  it 
was  a  fine  saft  morning.  Not 
quite  understanding  what  my 
getting  up  had  to  do  with  the 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


469 


"  boots,"  I  told  him  so,  and 
he  retired.  About  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  afterwards  the  same 
programme  was  repeated,  with 
the  additional  information  this 
time  from  Pat,  that  the  hotel 
was  so  "  thronged  "  the  night 
before  that  Maria  (presumably 
the  chambermaid)  had  been 
obliged  to  use  the  tablecloth 
from  the  coffee-room  as  the 
top  sheet  of  my  bed,  and  that 
two  bagmen,  who  had  to  leave 
by  the  early  train,  were  after 
snouting  for  their  breakfast. 
At  the  same  time  I  could  hear 
heavy  breathing  outside  the 
door,  and  an  agitated  voice 
(apparently  Maria's)  said : 
"  Hurry  up,  Pat,  there's  thim 
divils  yowling  for  their  break- 
fasts agin."  I  quickly  handed 
the  tablecloth  to  Pat,  a  large 
red  hand  gripped  it  round  the 
door,  and  I  could  hear  a 
"  Lord  save  us  !  "  from  Maria 
as  she  dashed  off  to  appease 
the  now  infuriated  bagmen. 
Shortly  afterwards,  escorted  by 
Maria,  I  proceeded  to  the  bath- 
room, to  find  that,  though  there 
was  plenty  of  boiling  hot  water, 
there  was  not  a  drop  of  cold. 
Maria  was  full  of  apologies, 
and  said  that  the  lad  who 
pumped  had  gone  to  early 
Mass,  and  if  I  would  wait 
a  while  there  would  be  plenty 
of  cold  water  as  soon  as  he 
returned  ;  but  as  it  was  getting 
late  I  determined  to  do  without 
a  bath. 

During  breakfast  word  was 
brought  us  from  Larry  that  he 
would  not  be  able  to  start 
before  twelve,  owing  to  engine 
trouble ;  so  after  breakfast, 

VOL.    COX. — NO.   MCCLXXII. 


as  it  was  a  fine  day,  we  deter- 
mined to  have  a  look  at  the 
town  and  also  buy  some  pro- 
visions. 

It  was  market-day,  and  the 
little  town  was  full  of  country 
people,  buying  provisions  and 
selling  eggs  and  butter.  In 
the  main  street  we  saw  what  is 
a  familiar  sight  in  England, 
some  men  engaged  in  digging 
up  a  gas  or  water  main  in  the 
middle  of  the  roadway.  Stop- 
ping to  see  what  they  were 
doing,  we  found  that  one  man 
was  digging  while  two  more 
smoked  and  looked  on,  occa- 
sionally giving  the  digger  help- 
ful advice.  While  standing 
there  we  were  joined  by  a 
horsey-looking  man,  who  re- 
marked with  a  grin  that  it 
always  took  two  Irishmen  to 
watch  one  working.  "Ah, 
well,"  replied  one  of  the 
watchers  like  a  flash,  "  there's 
five  of  us  now."  Nothing 
daunted,  our  horsey  friend 
walked  on  down  the  main 
street  with  us,  doubtless  trying 
to  find  out  who  we  were  and 
what  our  business  was.  At 
the  corner  of  a  street  we 
passed  an  old  woman  seated 
on  the  kerb,  selling  fish  in  a 
basket.  "  Well,  ma'am,"  says 
our  friend  to  the  old  woman, 
"  is  them  young  whales  yer 
selling  f  "  "  Ah,  no,  agra,"  an- 
swered the  old  fisherwoman, 
"  they're  just  little  cods  like 
yerself."  Apparently  this  re- 
tort was  too  much  for  our 
horsey  friend,  as  we  saw  him 
no  more. 

We  were  struck  by  the  civi- 
lity and  good  manners  of  the 
8  2 


470 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


country  people,  not  to  mention 
their  great  curiosity  in  us  as 
strangers ;  but  there  seemed 
to  be  so  much  laughter  and 
light-hearted  chaff  going  on 
everywhere  that  one  wondered 
how  they  did  any  business 
at  all. 

We  also  noticed  the  great 
difference  in  the  appearance 
of  the  country  people  we  saw 
in  the  town :  while  some  were 
very  well-bred-looking,  especi- 
ally the  young  men,  with  small 
regular  features,  good  figures, 
and  flat  backs,  others  were 
squat  and  common  -  looking, 
especially  the  older  men,  with 
an  extraordinary  long  upper 
lip — very  like  the  caricatures 
one  sees  of  an  Irishman  in  a 
comic  American  paper,  and 
usually  called  "  Moike."  The 
young  girls,  though  not  so 
pretty  in  most  cases  as  we 
had  been  led  to  expect,  had 
lovely  complexions,  doubtless 
due  to  the]]  soft  air  of  the 
West. 

On  arriving  at  our  hotel  we 
found  Larry  waiting  for  us, 
while  Pat  and  Maria  were  busy 
packing  our  kit  into  the  old 
Ford,  and  trying  at  the  same 
time  to  leave  room  for  us.  In 
the  back  of  the  car  Charles 
noticed  a  sack  full  of  what 
appeared  to  be  large  potatoes 
or  small  turnips,  and  asked 
Pat  why  the  sack  had  been 
put  in  the  car.  "  Well  now, 
yer  honour,"  replied  Pat, 
"  Larry  says  as  how  the  road 
is  that  bad  he's  after  taking 
the  little  sack  of  stones  with 
him  to  fill  up  the  holes."  And 
nothing  we  could  say  or  do 


would  induce  Larry  to  leave 
his  little  sack  of  stones  be- 
hind. 

After  saying  good-bye  to 
Maria  and  Pat,  we  started  on 
the  last  stage  of  our  journey, 
and,  once  Larry's  engine 
warmed  up,  proceeded  at  a 
good  pace,  in  spite  of  the 
many  carts  we  passed  for  several 
miles  after  leaving  the  town. 
After  about  four  miles  the 
road  for  some  distance  ran  by 
the  shores  of  a  large  lake,  and 
about  half  a  mile  from  the 
shore  we  could  see  a  fair-sized 
island  with  white  cottages  on 
it.  Larry,  by  whom  I  sat, 
saw  me  looking  at  the  island, 
and  ejaculated :  "  The  dis- 
tillery of  the  West  "  ;  and  on 
being  pressed  for  an  explana- 
tion, told  us  that  the  island 
was  a  famous  place  for  making 
"  poteen,"  illicit  whisky.  It  ap- 
peared that  all  the  inhabitants 
of  the  island  made  their  living 
out  of  "  poteen,"  and  in  spite 
of  all  the  police  could  do, 
carried  on  a  roaring  trade  with 
the  mainland.  Such  pride  did 
the  "  poteen  "  makers  take  in 
their  trade,  that  one  of  them 
even  went  the  length  of  work- 
ing in  Bass's  maltings  at  Bur- 
ton-on-Trent  in  order  to  become 
an  efficient  maltster. 

The  police  had  kept  two 
large  boats  on  the  lake  for 
years — we  passed  one  shortly 
afterwards  on  a  small  bay  of 
the  lake — in  order  to  try  and 
suppress  this  illicit  distillery, 
but  all  in  vain. 

After  leaving  the  shores  of 
the  lake  the  road  took  a  sharp 
bend  to  the  right  round  a  high 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


471 


rock,  and  in  turning  this  corner 
we  narrowly  missed  running 
into  an  ass-cart,  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  road  as  usual.  Larry, 
after  abusing  the  driver  of  the 
cart,  remarked  that,  "  Them 
fools  would  drive  on  the  wrong 
side  even  if  the  right  side 
was  the  right  side,  and  any- 
how it's  easier  and  safer  to 
drive  a  car  on  the  wrong 
side." 

Shortly  afterwards  we  passed 
through  a  straggling  village, 
and  Larry,  whose  engine  by 
this  time  was  boning,  showed  a 
fine  turn  of  speed,  so  much  so 
that  in  swerving  to  avoid  a 
child  playing  in  the  middle  of 
the  road,  he  ran  over  a  dog 
asleep  outside  a  small  public- 
house  ;  and  in  spite  of  Larry's 
objections,  Charles  insisted  on 
stopping  to  apologise  to  the 
owner  of  the  dog.  But  the 
publican,  when  he  appeared, 
wanted  more  than  an  apology. 
It  appeared  that  the  dog  was 
invaluable.  Not  only  did  he 
perform  the  usual  functions  of 
a  dog  in  Ireland,  such  as  bring- 
ing the  cows  home  at  night, 
putting  the  hens  to  bed  before 
the  foxes  came  down  from  the 
mountains,  and  such  minor 
duties  as  killing  rats  and  mice, 
but,  in  addition  to  all  this,  the 
wonderful  dog  used  all  day  to 
guard  the  barrels  of  porter 
outside  the  pub,  so  that,  as 
the  publican  expressively  put 
it,  "  Divil  a  lad  in  the  town 
was  ever  able  to  steal  a  tint 
of  stout."  And  now  that  his 
dog  was  dead,  he  would  have 
to  hire  a  lad  at  18s.  a  week  to 
guard  the  porter  barrels,  "  and 


God  alone  knew  how  much 
stout  the  lad  would  steal  on 
him." 

Matters  began  to  look  serious 
when  an  E.I.C.  sergeant  saun- 
tered up  and  inquired  what 
the  trouble  was.  Larry  ex- 
plained to  the  sergeant,  the 
sergeant  gave  the  publican  one 
look,  Larry  whispered  to  me 
to  give  the  publican  5s.  (which 
I  promptly  did),  at  the  same 
time  starting  up  bis  engine, 
and  in  a  second  we  were  off 
again. 

We  now  began  to  pass 
through  great  stretches  of 
moorland,  and  in  the  distance 
we  could  see  a  range  of  moun- 
tains, and  after  crossing  a  small 
mountain  river  the  road  began 
to  look  as  though  Larry's  little 
sack  of  stones  might  yet  be 
needed. 

After  a  few  miles  we  turned 
off  to  the  left  up  a  by-road, 
or,  as  Larry  called  it,  a  "  bohe- 
reen,"  and  the  going  became 
worse  still.  However,  eventu- 
ally, by  slow  and  skilful  driving 
on  Larry's  part,  we  came  within 
sight  of  the  shooting-lodge,  and 
seldom,  if  ever,  have  I  seen 
a  more  lovely  scene.  The  lodge, 
a  low  white  building  with  high 
wooden  gables  painted  red, 
stood  on  a  gentle  slope  facing 
the  south-west ;  in  front  of 
the  lodge  ran  a  fine  mountain 
river,  now  in  full  winter  flood  ; 
to  the  south  and  west  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  thundered  on 
a  sandy  beach  about  a  mile 
distant  from  the  lodge ;  and 
to  the  east  and  north  the  lodge 
had  for  a  background  a  fine 
range  of  heather-clad  moun- 


472 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


tains,  now  a  gorgeous  pink  in 
the  setting  sun. 

At  the  door  of  the  lodge 
the  keeper,  Micky  Brogan,  and 
his  wife  welcomed  us,  and  with 
them  two  fine  red  setters,  who 
seemed  fully  to  realise  what 
our  arrival  meant  for  them ; 
and  very  soon  we  were  sitting 
down  to  a  tea  of  eggs  and 
bacon,  with  fresh,  home-made, 
soda  bread  and  butter,  before 
a  roaring  turf  fire  on  an  open 
hearth. 

After  tea  Mrs  Brogan  showed 
us  over  the  lodge,  which  we 
found  consisted  of  one  large 
sitting-room  and  three  bed- 
rooms, plainly  furnished,  but 
clean  and  comfortable  looking. 


When  we  had  unpacked  our 
kit  we  sent  for  Brogan,  and 
asked  him  what  prospects  of 
shooting  there  were,  and  if 
the  snipe  and  woodcock  were 
in  yet.  Brogan  told  us  that 
there  were  plenty  of  snipe  in, 
but  that  the  woodcock  were  late 
— in  fact,  the  first  flight  gene- 
rally arrived  early  in  October, 
and  rested  on  the  lower  slopes 
of  the  mountains  behind  the 
lodge  before  spreading  inland 
and  taking  up  their  usual 
winter  quarters.  He  also  added 
that  the  grouse  had  not  been 
shot  at  all  this  season,  and 
that  we  ought  to  try  and  get 
a  day  with  them  at  once. 

And  so  to  bed. 


n. 


I  awoke  the  next  morning 
to  the  plaintive  cry  of  curlew 
flighting  over  the  lodge  to  the 
shore  in  search  of  food,  and 
the  heavy  thud  of  the  Atlantic 
rollers.  Lying  in  bed  I  could 
view  not  only  the  sea,  but  a 
great  expanse  of  mountain  and 
moor  to  the  south. 

Over  night  we  had  settled 
with  Brogan  that  we  would 
shoot  some  grouse  ground  about 
three  miles  away  from  the 
lodge,  and  that  we  would  drive 
out  to  the  far  end  of  the  beat 
on  Brogan's  outside  car,  so  as 
to  be  able  to  shoot  practically 
the  whole  way  back  to  the 
lodge. 

Breakfast  over,  we  started, 
the  two  red  setters,  "  Fan " 
and  "  Grouse,"  running  along- 
side of  the  car,  and  mad  with 


joy  at  the  anticipation  of  sport. 
It  was  a  perfect  October  day, 
with  the  wonderful  clear  at- 
mosphere peculiar  to  the  West 
of  Ireland — so  clear,  in  fact, 
that  one  could  distinctly  see 
the  white  cottages  on  two 
islands  far  out  in  the  Atlantic, 
and  even  the  blue  turf  smoke 
curling  out  of  the  chimneys. 
Every  crag  and  rock  on  the 
mountain  -  sides  stood  out  in 
bold  relief,  as  though  seen 
through  a  powerful  Zeiss  glass. 
The  road,  so  called  by 
Brogan,  but  in  reality  merely 
a  track  of  two  ruts  with  a 
few  loose  stones  in  the  middle, 
had  been  made  in  the  days 
when  people  in  this  wild  part 
of  the  world  rode,  and  before 
outside  cars  had  been  invented, 
and  ran  practically  straight 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


473 


across  the  moorland,  quite  obli- 
vious of  gradients  or  streams. 
After  driving  about  two  miles, 
we  took  another  road  to  the 
left  up  a  valley  towards  the 
mountains,  and  at  the  top  of 
the  valley  stopped  at  a  herd's 
house,  where  we  were  to  leave 
the  car,  which  the  herd  would 
drive  back  to  the  lodge  for  us. 

During  the  drive  Brogan 
told  us  that  in  his  grand- 
father's time  these  mountains 
were  full  of  red  -  deer  ;  but 
that  when  the  French  landed 
at  Killala  Bay  in  1798  (the 
year  of  the  Irish  Eebellion), 
under  General  Humbert,  they 
brought  with  them  a  large 
number  of  muskets  with  which 
to  arm  the  Irish  peasantry. 
After  the  French  were  de- 
feated and  the  Eebellion  had 
been  suppressed,  many  of  the 
muskets,  which  had  been  dis- 
tributed among  the  peasants 
in  the  West  were  buried  or 
carefully  hidden,  and  after- 
wards used  by  the  peasants 
to  shoot  the  red-deer  until  they 
became  exterminated.  The 
French  barrels  were  supposed 
to  fire  a  longer  and  straighter 
bullet  than  the  English  mus- 
kets. 

Brogan  also  asked  us  if  we 
had  noticed  a  large  square 
white  house  close  to  the  village 
where  Larry  had  run  over  the 
dog,  and  told  us  a  curious 
story  of  how  the  house  came 
to  be  built.  It  seemed  that 
General  Humbert  brought  with 
him  from  France  several  trea- 
sure chests,  doubtless  to  pay 
bis  troops  with,  and  possibly 
to  buy  food  in  Ireland.  When 


the  French  marched  on  Castle- 
bar  they  advanced  in  two 
columns,  one  along  each  bank 
of  the  river  Moy.  The  column 
on  the  east  bank  left  a  treasure 
chest  at  the  cottage  of  a  man 
called  Faherty,  who  lived  about 
half-way  between  Ballina  and 
Foxford,  doubtless  meaning  to 
return  and  pick  up  the  chest 
again.  However,  the  French 
never  returned.  Faherty  kept 
the  chest,  built  the  large  white 
house  we  had  seen  with 
the  proceeds,  and  became  a 
Connaught  country  gentle- 
man. 

When  we  arrived  at  the 
cottage  the  herd  and  his  bare- 
footed children  were  busy  draw- 
ing the  winter's  supply  of  turf 
from  a  bog  in  the  valley,  and 
stacking  the  turf  at  the  gable- 
ends  of  the  cottage,  each  child 
driving  a  donkey  with  a  large 
pair  of  basket  panniers  on  its 
back,  suspended  on  a  wooden 
saddle  padded  with  plaited 
straw. 

Our  morning's  sport  was  ex- 
cellent. The  dogs  were  in 
good  working  condition,  and 
under  perfect  control ;  but  at 
noon  the  light  westerly  breeze 
quite  died  away,  and  we  deter- 
mined to  have  lunch,  then 
rest  for  two  or  three  hours, 
and  attack  the  grouse  again 
in  the  late  afternoon,  when 
they  would  be  feeding. 

During  the  morning  we  had 
been  working  our  way  steadily 
up  the  side  of  the  mountain 
from  the  time  we  had  left  the 
herd's  cottage ;  and  now  as 
we  were  within  a  short  distance 
of  the  summit,  we  decided 


474 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


to  climb  to  the  top  before 
resting. 

We  were  well  repaid  for  our 
trouble.  A  scene,  glorious  be- 
yond imagination,  burst  upon 
us.  To  the  west  the  dark 
blue  waters  of  the  Atlantic 
extended,  till  the  eye  lost  them 
in  the  far  horizon ;  to  the 
north  we  could  just  see  across 
a  bay  the  coast  and  mountains 
of  Donegal,  a  faint  ethereal 
blue ;  to  the  south  stretched 
the  rugged  mountains  of  Conne- 
mara,  silhouetted  against  the 
brilliant  blue  sky  with  a  small 
white  cloud  on  the  highest 
peak ;  and  all  around  us  a 
vast  solitude  of  heathery  moor- 
land, a  beautiful  soft  brown 
and  green  in  the  bright  autumn 
sunshine. 

During  lunch  Brogan  told 
us  that  the  grouse  on  all  the 
mountains  along  the  Atlantic 
seaboard  lay  so  close  right  up 
to  the  end  of  the  shooting 
season,  that  unless  you  used 
the  best  of  setters  and  beat 
the  ground  most  carefully,  you 
would  leave  most  of  the  birds 
behind ;  while  if  you  went 
inland  to  the  next  range  of 
mountains  you  would  find  that 
often,  even  on  the  12th  of 
August,  the  grouse  were  so 
wild  that  shooting  over  dogs 
you  could  not  get  within  eighty 
yards  of  the  packs. 

On  a  rocky  ledge,  close  to 
the  top  of  the  mountain,  we 
saw  a  small  flock  of  about 
twenty  choughs,  their  brilliant 
orange  bills  and  legs  showing 
up  plainly  in  the  bright  clear 
light. 

The  higher  we  had  climbed 


during  the  morning  the  more 
hares  we  had  seen,  and  every 
hare  invariably  made  a  bee- 
line  for  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain. According  to  Brogan, 
they  frequent  the  higher  parts 
of  the  mountains  until  bad 
weather  sets  in,  when  they 
descend  to  the  bogs  and  valleys 
of  the  lowlands  for  the  winter. 

While  we  were  resting  after 
lunch  we  saw  a  pair  of  pere- 
grine falcons  beating  a  valley 
below  us  like  a  pair  of  per- 
fectly trained  setters.  After 
a  time  one  bird  swooped  and 
rose  again,  doubtless  with  a 
grouse,  but  we  were  too  far 
off  to  see.  We  also  several 
times  heard  the  croak  of  ravens, 
and  could  just  see  them,  faint 
black  specks  against  the  blue 
sky  high  overhead,  in  search 
of  a  dead  mountain  sheep  for 
their  dinner. 

Soon  after  starting  to  shoot 
again,  Brogan  pointed  out  to 
us  a  cluster  of  three  small 
mountain  tarns  in  a  valley, 
and  told  us  that  the  white- 
fronted  geese  on  their  arrival 
in  the  country  from  the  far 
North  invariably  rested  on  these 
lakes  for  several  days  after  their 
long  and  tiring  flight ;  but  that 
they  were  late  this  year,  and 
ought  to  be  with  us  any  day 
now. 

Soon  afterwards  "  Fan  "  put 
up  out  of  some  long  heather 
three  short  -  eared  owls  : 
"  woodcock  owls,"  Brogan 
called  them,  and  added  that 
they  always  appeared  a  few 
days  before  the  first  flight  of 
woodcock  arrived. 

We  found  several  packs  of 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


475 


grouse,  all  feeding  on  ground 
recently  burnt  and  covered 
with  fine  young  heather  ;  and 
on  reaching  the  lodge  found 
that  we  had  shot  fifteen  brace 
of  grouse,  two  brace  of  mal- 
lard, and  four  hares,  Brogan 
having  about  as  much  as  he 
could  carry. 

Mrs  Brogan  gave  us  most 
delicious  sea-trout,  caught  by 
her  son  during  the  afternoon 
in  the  river,  for  tea,  and  we 
felt  at  peace  with  the  world. 

After  tea  Brogan  called  us 
out  to  listen  to  the  heavy 
ground  sea,  which  had  just 
started  to  come  in  from  the 
Atlantic.  It  was  too  dark  to 
see  it,  but  one  could  hear  the 
roar  and  feel  the  heavy  thud 
as  each  great  wave  dashed 
against  the  beach,  and  Brogan 
foretold  the  end  of  the  fine 
weather. 

The  following  morning  I  felt 
stiff  and  sore  after  our  hard 
walking  on  the  mountains,  and 
awoke  to  find  that  Brogan's 
prophecy  had  been  fulfilled : 
there  was  a  steady  downpour 
of  rain,  the  sea  was  hardly 
visible,  and  the  mountains  were 
completely  hidden  by  the  low 
clouds. 

One  could  hardly  imagine 
a  greater  change  in  the  weather 
— yesterday  bright  and  sunny, 
and  to-day  dismal  and  damp. 
But  at  noon  the  wind  suddenly 
veered  from  south  -  west  to 
north-west,  the  rain  stopped, 
the  sun  came  out,  the  clouds 
rolled  away,  and  by  two  o'clock 
the  day  was  nearly  as  fine  as 
the  previous  one. 

After    the    heavy    rain    the 


mountains  and  moors  had  a 
wonderful  look,  as  though  they 
had  been  freshly  washed,  and 
the  sun  brought  out  the  shades 
of  purple,  brown,  orange,  and 
green  more  vividly  than  ever. 

The  sudden  change  of  the 
day  made  us  determine  to  try 
a  big  marsh  some  distance  to 
the  south,  which  Brogan  had 
told  us  was  a  great  place  for 
duck  and  golden  plover  flight- 
ing in  the  evening. 

After  an  early  tea  we  started 
off  on  the  car,  leaving  two 
very  dejected  -  looking  setters 
behind  us,  but  taking  an  Irish 
water-spaniel  of  Brogan's  called 
"  Paddy."  For  some  distance 
the  road  ran  close  to  the  sea, 
so  near  in  places  that  we 
could  distinctly  see  flocks  of 
dunlins  feeding  on  the  edge 
of  the  incoming  tide,  and  at 
one  point  we  put  up  a  large 
flock  of  oyster-catchers. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour's  slow 
driving  we  came  to  a  small 
fishing  village  on  the  very  edge 
of  the  sea-shore,  behind  which 
there  was  a  ridge  of  cultivated 
land,  and  beyond  that  stretched 
the  marsh  we  had  come  to 
shoot.  In  reality  the  marsh 
was  a  huge  bog,  studded  with 
bog-holes  of  every  size,  and 
in  the  middle  a  good-sized  lake 
with  a  broad  fringe  of  reeds 
round  it. 

As  the  golden  plover  were 
expected  to  "  flight "  before 
the  duck,  we  at  once  made 
our  way  across  the  bog  to  the 
lake.  Here  we  found  that 
there  was  a  causeway  built 
through  the  reeds,  which  led 
to  two  hiding-places  on  the 


476 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


edge  of  the  gravel  shore  of  the 
lake.  Brogan  told  us  that  on 
most  winter's  evenings  all  the 
golden  plover  from  far  and 
wide  collect  on  the  shores  of 
this  lake  to  rest,  as  it  is  shel- 
tered from  every  wind  and 
never  disturbed. 

Charles  took  one  hiding-place, 
and  Brogan,  "  Paddy,"  and  I 
went  to  the  other.  I  found 
that  my  hiding  -  place,  or 
"  blind,"  as  Brogan  called  it, 
was  cleverly  built  of  rushes 
and  reeds,  with  a  long  narrow 
loophole  on  the  lake  side,  so 
that  one  could  fire  well  to  the 
right  or  left.  We  spent  about 
an  hour  here,  and  had  excellent 
shooting  at  the  golden  plover, 
which  came  in  most  of  the 
time  in  large  "  stands,"  and 
would  wheel  several  times  over 
the  lake  and  shores,  low,  and 
at  a  terrific  pace  before  alight- 
ing on  the  shore  to  rest. 

Practically  every  "  stand  " 
sooner  or  later  wheeled  within 
shot  of  our  "  blinds  "  ;  and 
though  they  would  give  magni- 
ficent shots  if  they  flew  singly, 
yet  the  great  pace  of  the  birds 
and  the  uncertain  light,  with 
generally  a  background  of  dark 
mountain  or  bog,  made  the 
shooting  difficult  enough. 

After  about  an  hour  Brogan 
took  us  to  another  set  of 
"  blinds  "  in  the  middle  of  a 
large  group  of  bog-holes,  and 
here  we  waited  for  the  duck, 
which  came  in  late,  owing  to 
the  fineness  of  the  evening. 
While  we  were  waiting  there 
was  a  constant  stream  of  birds 
overhead  seawards,  chiefly  cur- 
lew. Owing  to  the  duck  not 


coming  in  until  nearly  dark,  we 
had  indifferent  shooting,  but 
could  see  that  on  a  wild  even- 
ing— when  duck  come  in  early, 
in  order  to  be  well  settled  down 
to  their  dinner  before  darkness 
sets  in — we  ought  to  have  good 
sport. 

As  soon  as  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  the  duck  at  all — and  in 
that  marsh  it  seemed  sudden- 
ly to  grow  as  dark  as  the 
bottomless  pit — we  started  for 
the  village.  Very  soon  Charles 
could  be  heard  shouting  for 
help,  and  when  we  at  last 
found  him  he  was  bogged  to 
his  middle,  and  unable  to 
move. 

I  tried  to  go  to  Charles's 
aid,  but  started  at  once  to 
get  bogged  myself,  and  had  to 
give  up  the  attempt.  How- 
ever, Brogan  was  wiser,  and 
sent  "  Paddy  "  out  to  Charles, 
telling  him  to  lay  hold  of  the 
dog's  tail  and  hold  tight. 

Then  started  a  terrific  pull- 
ing match.  In  the  black  dark- 
ness one  could  hear  the  pants 
of  the  dog,  the  squelches  as 
he  drew  each  leg  out  of  the 
fast-holding  bog,  and  the  groans 
of  the  unfortunate  Charles. 

Apparently  "  Paddy  "  had 
been  at  the  game  before,  as  he 
pulled  with  all  his  might  and 
main,  until  at  last  he  drew 
Charles  on  to  firm  ground,  and 
then  lay  down  dead-beat.  We 
then  formed  a  chain  like  moun- 
taineers, with  Brogan  leading, 
and  so  got  clear  of  that  dread- 
ful bog  safely. 

On  reaching  the  cottage 
where  we  had  put  up,  Charles 
presented  a  woeful  sight,  cov- 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


477 


ered  with  a  rich  coating  of 
dark-brown  v  mud  from  head 
to  foot,  and  even  his  face  had 
been  plastered  with  the  bog 
mud  from  the  back  lash  of 
"  Paddy's  "  hind  -  legs  during 
the  pulling  match. 

Luckily  we  had  brought  a 
change  with  us,  but  the  ques- 
tion was  where  to  change. 
The  owners  of  the  cottage 
were  full  of  sympathy,  but 
the  cottage  only  consisted  of 
one  room,  while  the  family 
consisted  of  eight — the  man 
and  his  wife  and  six  children. 
In  the  end  Charles  had  to 
change  in  a  barn  by  the  light 
of  one  candle,  with  two  don- 
keys, a  calf,  and  numerous 
hens  and  ducks  for  compan- 
ions —  a  great  change  from 
his  comfortable  bedroom  at 
home. 

Meanwhile  the  man  of  the 
house  produced  a  large  jar  of 
"  poteen,"  while  the  eldest  boy 
and  girl  played  a  flute  and 
melodeon  respectively,  and  the 
other  children  danced,  Brogan 
confining  his  attention  to  the 
poteen  jar. 

Tune  followed  tune,  and  the 
children  never  stopped  danc- 
ing ;  and  as  each  fresh  tune 
started,  Brogan  told  me  the 
name — "  The  Wind  that  stirs 
the  Barley,"  "  The  Geese  in 
the  Bog,"  "The  Devil  among 
the  Tailors,"  "The  Hare  in 
the  Corn,"  "The  Swallow's 
Tail,"  "The  Flogging  Eeel," 
and  most  curious  of  all,  "  The 
Pig's  Trot  to  the  Hole  of 
Potatoes."  Brogan  explained 
that  the  last  tune  was  meant 
to  imitate  the  joyful  patter  of 


a  pig's  feet  on  perceiving  a 
potato  -  pit  left  open  in  a 
field. 

By  the  time  we  had  said 
good-bye  to  our  kind  hosts 
and  packed  our  kit  on  the  car, 
Brogan  had,  as  he  put  it 
himself,  "  a  drop  of  drink 
taken."  Charles,  who  was  cross 
and  tired  after  his  bogging, 
said  that  he  was  drunk.  We 
drove  off  into  the  pitch-dark 
night  at  a  hand  gallop,  and 
for  the  first  mile  all  our  atten- 
tion was  taken  up  with  holding 
on  to  the  car.  Luckily,  at  the 
end  of  the  first  mile  we  came 
to  a  hill,  and  by  this  time  the 
pony  had  had  enough,  and 
refused  to  go  beyond  a  steady 
sober  trot. 

The  cool  night  air  had  so- 
bered Brogan  a  little,  and  he 
started  to  tell  us  an  amusing 
story  about  a  cousin  of  his 
who  was  returning  from  a  fair 
on  just  such  a  dark  night  as 
this  one.  It  seemed  that  the 
cousin,  John  Duffy  by  name, 
had  driven  to  the  fair  in  a 
cart  with  a  young  horse  which 
had  never  been  in  harness 
before.  After  selling  his  cattle 
at  the  fair,  Duffy  remained  on 
in  the  town  drinking  heavily 
until  it  was  dark,  and  then 
started  to  drive  home  alone. 
Just  outside  the  next  village 
on  his  way  home  there  was  an 
ass  rolling  in  the  middle  of 
the  road.  The  young  horse 
promptly  shied,  started  to  bolt, 
broke  the  rotten  old  harness, 
and  galloped  off  home,  leaving 
Duffy  alone  in  the  cart. 

At  this  point  of  the  story 
Brogan  got  mixed  up  with 


478 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


fairies,  who  seemed  to  have 
suddenly  appeared  on  the  road, 
covered  Duffy  with  straw,  and 
put  him  to  sleep.  At  dawn 
Duffy  awoke,  and  proceeded 
to  drag  the  cart  into  the 
village,  where  he  stopped  out- 
side the  shop  of  the  principal 
shopkeeper,  Anthony  Eay. 
Here  Duffy  knocked  at  the 
door,  until  at  last  old  Eay 
came  down  and  opened  it, 
when  the  following  conversa- 
tion was  carried  on  : — 

Bay  :  "  What  do  you  want 
at  this  hour  of  the  morning, 
John  Duffy  *  " 

Duffy:  "Mr  Eay,  sir,  I 
wants  to  know  am  I  John 
Duffy  or  am  I  not  t  " 

Bay  :  "  And  what  the  divil 
do  ye  want  to  know  for,  ye 
drunken  auld  fool  ?  " 

Duffy  :  "  Because,  Mr  Eay, 
yer  honour,  if  I'm  John  Duffy 
I've  lost  a  fine  young  hoss 
baste,  and  if  I'm  not  I've 
found  a  damn  bad  cart." 

By  this  time  the  moon  had 
risen,  and  the  last  part  of 
the  drive  along  the  edge  of 
the  Atlantic  was  most  beauti- 
ful. The  sea  had  quite  gone 
down,  and  only  the  usual  long 
slow  breakers  of  the  ocean 


broke  at  intervals  on  the  beach. 
On  every  side  could  be  heard 
the  wild  cries  of  sea-birds, 
always  restless  and  seeking 
fresh  feeding-ground  ;  while  at 
one  point  we  passed  within  a 
stone's-throw  of  six  herons,  mo- 
tionless as  rocks,  and  standing 
out  large  and  dark  against  the 
background  of  silvery  water. 

Mrs  Brogan  met  us  some  dis- 
tance from  the  lodge,  full  of 
anxiety  to  know  what  had 
delayed  us  ;  and  it  appeared 
that  the  road  was  notorious 
for  ghosts,  especially  a  little 
old  woman  dressed  in  white, 
who  could  patter  along  the 
road  as  fast  as  any  horse  ever 
foaled  could  gallop,  though 
this  seemed  to  be  the  extent 
of  her  evil. 

Charles  politely  assured  Mrs 
Brogan  that  we  had  seen  no 
ghosts,  and  that  we  were  quite 
all  right,  except  that  Brogan 
had  got  drunk. 

"  Ah,  not  at  all,"  replied 
the  good  woman.  "  Micky's 
never  drunk  until  he  goes 
down  to  the  river  to  light  his 
pipe,  and  then  he's  real  drunk." 

This  was  too  much  for 
Charles,  who  retired  to  bed 
without  an  answer. 


m. 

The   following   day   we   did  we   said   he   could   go   by   all 

not    see    Brogan    until    after  means,  he  asked  if  we  would 

lunch,  when  he  put  his  head  care  to  go  with  him, 

in  at  the  sitting-room  door  to  Charles  declined,  being  still 

know  if  we  would  want  him  very  angry  with  Brogan  after 

the  next  day,  as  he  was  anxious  our  wild  drive  of  the  previous 

to  go  to  a  fair  to  sell  some  night,    but   I   decided   to   go. 

mountain    sheep ;     and    when  Brogan    seemed    pleased,    and 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


479 


said  that  if  I  would  ride  we 
could  take  a  short  cut  across 
country,  and  so  save  several 
miles. 

The  next  morning  we  started 
at  an  unearthly  hour  in  the 
pitch  dark — so  dark,  in  fact, 
that  I  could  not  see  a  yard 
in  front  of  me,  and  simply 
trusted  to  the  pony  following 
Brogan.  Soon  after  the  dawn 
broke  we  struck  a  mountain 
road,  which  eventually  brought 
us  to  a  cross-roads,  where  we 
turned  left-handed  on  to  the 
main  road,  which  led  to  the 
little  town  where  the  fair  was 
to  be  held. 

At  the  cross-roads  I  noticed 
a  lot  of  feathers  and  straw 
littered  about.  Brogan  ex- 
plained that  a  fowl  fair  had 
been  held  there  during  the 
night,  and  on  my  expressing 
surprise  at  the  strangeness  of 
the  hour  to  hold  a  fair,  he  could 
give  no  explanation  except  that 
it  was  an  old  custom,  and  that 
fowl  fairs  had  always  been 
held  at  midnight  as  long  as 
he  could  remember.  One  had 
often  heard  the  Irish  expres- 
sion to  buy  a  pig  in  a  poke, 
but  in  this  part  of  Ireland  to 
buy  a  fowl  in  the  dark  would 
seem  to  be  more  appropriate. 

After  leaving  the  cross-roads 
we  began  to  meet  country 
people  going  to  the  fair,  many 
of  them  riding  pillion  on  the 
same  breed  of  ponies  as  we  rode 
—  dun  -  coloured  ponies  with 
queer  dark-brown  stripes  on  the 
shoulders  and  down  the  middle 
of  the  back  like  a  donkey,  but 
in  no  other  respects  did  they 
resemble  a  donkey,  being  fine 


hardy  beasts,  much  like  the 
best  class  of  Welsh  mountain 
ponies.  All  carried  the  same 
plaited  straw  saddles  and  rope 
bridles,  the  men  being  dressed 
in  dark-grey  homespuns,  and 
the  women  with  their  skirts 
carefully  pinned  up,  showing 
their  brilliant  red-flannel  petti 
coats,  dark  shawls  over  their 
heads. 

Near  the  town  we  overtook 
Brogan's  son  driving  a  small 
flock  of  mountain  sheep,  with 
"Paddy"  doing  sheep-dog,  and 
we  all  proceeded  to  the  fair 
together.  Every  street  of  the 
queer  little  town  seemed  to  be 
used  as  a  fair  green,  and  the 
place  was  full  of  small  black- 
faced  mountain  sheep  and 
shaggy  red  and  black  moun- 
tain cattle,  when  Brogan  and 
his  flock  took  up  their  position 
in  the  square  in  the  middle  of 
the  town. 

Buying  seemed  to  be  brisk, 
and  shortly  after  we  arrived 
a  dealer  asked  Brogan  how 
much  he  wanted  for  the  sheep. 
The  price  did  not  appear  to 
suit  the  dealer,  who  went  off 
remarking  scornfully  that  it 
was  sheep  he  wanted  to  buy, 
not  bullocks.  However,  he 
returned  again  shortly,  and 
opened  negotiations  with  Bro- 
gan afresh,  and  it  was  most 
amusing  to  watch  them — Bro- 
gan pretending  to  be  quite 
indifferent  whether  he  sold  or 
not,  and  the  dealer  quite  in- 
different whether  he  bought 
the  sheep  or  left  them.  In 
fact,  to  hear  them  talk  you 
would  have  imagined  that  each 
was  conferring  a  favour  on  the 


480 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


other.  After  interminable  ar- 
guments on  the  merits  and 
demerits  of  the  sheep,  they 
reached  a  point  where  there 
was  only  a  difference  of  two 
shillings  a  sheep  between  them, 
and  now  they  really  began  to 
warm  to  their  work,  Brogan 
shouting  that  he  would  leave 
them  on  the  street  before  he 
would  let  them  go  at  the 
dealer's  price,  and  the  dealer 
retorting  he  could  buy  Eos- 
common  rams  at  Brogan's  price. 
At  this  point  a  third  man  ap- 
peared on  the  scene,  and  in  a 
coaxing  voice  entreated  the 
by  now  furious  pair  to  divide 
the  difference.  Brogan  at  once 
consigned  the  arbitrator  to 
blazes,  and  the  dealer,  after 
consigning  Brogan  and  the  arbi- 
trator to  the  same  place,  started 
to  move  off.  But  the  arbi- 
trator held  him  firm  by  his 
coat-tails,  and  the  argument 
started  all  over  again,  if  pos- 
sible more  furiously  than  ever. 
At  last  the  price  was  fixed,  the 
difference  being  divided,  and 
I  thought  that  the  sheep  were 
really  sold  at  last. 

But  not  at  all.  A  fresh  and 
fierce  dispute  now  started  as 
to  the  amount  of  "  luck-penny  " 
which  Brogan  should  give  back 
to  the  dealer.  Again  the  arbi- 
trator saved  the  situation,  and 
at  his  suggestion  we  all  ad- 
journed to  Mrs  Mulligan's  pub- 
lic-house to  settle  the  "luck- 
penny,"  and  to  drink  it  in 
porter. 

Mrs  Mulligan's  pub.  was 
packed  with  country  people, 
most  of  them  drinking  porter, 
and  all  of  them  talking  at  the 


top  of  their  voices,  and  it  was 
only  by  dint  of  pushing  and 
elbowing  our  way  through  the 
mass  of  people  that  we  could 
get  inside  the  door  at  all. 
There  had  been  a  few  showers 
during  the  morning,  so  that 
the  women's  shawls  were  steam- 
ing in  the  hot  room,  and  the 
air  was  close  with  the  acrid 
smell  of  turf  smoke  from  the 
drying  homespun  clothes  of  the 
men. 

Apparently  the  dealer  was 
a  man  of  some  importance,  as 
we  were  at  once  led  upstairs 
to  Mrs  Mulligan's  bedroom  to 
drink  our  porter ;  and  as  we 
left  the  crowded  room  down- 
stairs I  could  hear  a  little  old 
man  near  the  door,  amid  shouts 
of  laughter  from  the  crowd, 
asking  "  if  any  man  knew  of 
a  bottle  of  porter  wanting  a 
good  home." 

I  soon  found  the  atmosphere 
of  Mrs  Mulligan's  bedroom  too 
much  for  me,  and  after  arrang- 
ing with  Brogan  to  meet  him 
at  the  stable  where  we  had 
put  up  our  ponies,  I  went  off 
to  buy  some  homespun  I  had 
noticed  on  a  stall  in  the  main 
street.  Along  both  sides  of 
the  main  street  and  in  the 
square  there  were  many  stalls 
and  several  queer-looking  tents, 
rather  like  the  half-round  shel- 
ters which  you  see  gipsies  liv- 
ing in  on  an  English  common. 
At  the  stalls  were  sold  home- 
spuns, tin  kettles  and  pans, 
and  rosaries  chiefly ;  while  at 
the  corner  of  two  streets  a 
loud-voiced  man,  mounted  on 
a  cart,  was  auctioning  shoddy- 
looking  harness,  second-hand 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


481 


clothes,  and  American  watches. 
In  the  square  a  huge  black 
negro,  with  a  grin  from  ear 
to  ear  and  a  diamond  tie- 
pin  the  size  of  the  Koh-i-noor, 
was  offering  to  extract  any 
tooth  painlessly,  "  yes,  sure." 

On  investigation  I  found 
that  the  queer  tents,  called 
whisky -tents  by  the  people, 
contained  old  women  and  many 
whisky  bottles,  and  were  full 
of  the  overflow  from  the 
crowded  public-houses. 

One  could  not  help  being 
struck  by  the  natural  cheer- 
fulness and  good  manners  of 
the  peasants,  one  and  all  having 
the  good  manners  usually  asso- 
ciated with  royal  blood,  except 
those  who  had  spent  part  of 
their  lives  in  America,  and 
these  latter  were  very  notice- 
able by  their  loud  American 
accents  and  bizarre  clothes. 

On  getting  back  to  the  lodge 
we  found  that  one  of  the 
game  watchers,  M'Kensie  by 
name,  who  lived  on  one  of  the 
outlying  beats  of  the  shooting, 
had  arrived  with  the  news 
that  his  mountain  was  full  of 
woodcock,  or,  as  he  quaintly 
put  it,  "  they  were  as  plenti- 
ful as  the  midges  in  summer." 
And  after  M'Kensie  had  had 
whisky  from  us,  "  poteen  "  from 
Brogan,  and  tea  from  Mrs 
Brogan,  it  was  settled  that  we 
would  be  at  M'Kensie's  cottage 
as  early  as  possible  the  next 
morning,  and  would  shoot  his 
mountain. 

We  started  for  M'Kensie's 
mountain  in^the  grey  dawn 
of  what '/Brogan  described  as 
a  fine  "  baft  "  day,  but  Charles 


called    a    devilish     wet     day. 
Brogan  had  produced  another 
shaggy    pony    for    Charles    to 
ride,     while     young     Brogan 
walked  and  carried  the  game- 
bags.      The    going    was    bad, 
most   of   the   way   over   bogs 
and  across  mountain  streams, 
and   it   must   have   taken   us 
nearly    two    hours    to    reach 
M'Kensie's    cottage,    a    miser- 
able  ill-kept   hovel,   with   not 
even  a  chimney,  but  simply  a 
hole  in  the  roof  to  let  out  the 
smoke,  and  only  one  very  small 
window,  which  did  not  open. 
When  we  reached  the  cottage 
there  was  no  sign  of  life,  and 
the   door   was   shut   tight,    so 
Brogan  dismounted  and  ham- 
mered at  the  door,  while  his 
son   knocked   at   the  window. 
After  a  considerable  time  the 
door   opened   slowly,   to   emit 
a  cloud  of  turf  smoke,  followed 
by  a  shower  of  hens,  a  pig,  a 
calf,  and  lastly,  M'Kensie  him- 
self, rubbing  his  eyes  with  one 
hand    and    buttoning    up    his 
coat    with    the    other.      After 
another  interval  Mrs  M'Kensie 
appeared,  followed  by  a  swarm 
of    half-naked    children,    and 
one  shuddered  to  think  what 
the  atmosphere  must  be  like 
in    such    a    cottage    at    night 
with    the    door    and    window 
shut    tight   and   no    chimney. 
I  tried  to  go  into  the  cottage, 
but   could   not   face   the   turf 
smoke.     When  the   door  was 
open,  as  much  smoke  went  out 
by  the  door  as  by  the  hole 
in  the  roof,  though  the  greater 
part    seemed   to    stay   in   the 
cottage. 
During     the     ride     out     to 


482 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


M'Kensie's,  Brogan  told  us 
that  often  about  this  time 
of  the  year  the  herds  on  the 
mountains  along  the  Atlantic 
seaboard  would  come  across  a 
flight  of  woodcock,  generally 
in  a  patch  of  thick  heather 
in  a  sheltered  sunny  spot,  in 
a  place  where  the  day  before 
their  sheep-dogs  had  not  put 
up  a  single  bird.  He  seemed 
to  think  that  these  flights 
fly  right  across  Ireland  until 
they  see,  or  if  it  is  night-time 
feel  by  some  peculiar  sense, 
that  they  have  reached  the 
extremity  of  the  land,  and 
that  the  broad  Atlantic  lies 
before  them.  The  birds  then 
pitch  themselves  down  in  the 
nearest  covert  or  thick  heather 
within  sight,  and  then  rest 
until  they  have  recovered  from 
their  exhausting  journey,  which 
may  be  any  length  of  time 
from  twenty-four  to  forty-eight 
hours.  When  they  have  rested, 
the  woodcock  spread  inland 
singly,  and  take  up  their  winter 
quarters  on  the  mountain-slopes 
and  the  numerous  coverts  to 
the  eastward. 

We  had  brought  the  setters 
and  "  Paddy  "  with  us,  and, 
arming  M'Kensie's  two  big- 
gest boys  with  hazel  sticks, 
we  started  to  walk  up  the 
mountain  at  the  back  of 
M'Kensie's  cottage,  and  after 
a  stiff  climb  reached  the  place 
where  M'Kensie  had  seen  the 
woodcock  the  previous  day. 

About  half-way  up  the  moun- 
tain-side we  came  to  a  narrow 
flat  facing  to  the  south,  well 
sheltered  from  the  west  winds, 


and  to-day  bathed  in  sunshine. 
Most  of  the  flat  was  covered 
with  thick  heather,  in  places 
nearly  up  to  our  middle.  We 
started  to  walk  the  flat  in 
line,  and  at  once  the  dogs 
flushed  six  wood-cock  to- 
gether. Though  most  of  'the 
shots  were  fairly  easy,  yet 
the  bad  going  through  the 
high  heather  and  over  hidden 
boulders  soon  tired  us,  and 
made  us  miss  more  birds  than 
we  ought  to  have  done.  As 
sure  as  one  slipped  on  some 
hidden  mossy  rock  did  there 
arise  a  yell  of  "  'cock  "  from 
the  beaters.  Generally  the 
bird  rose  just  in  front,  but  when 
one  had  regained  one's  balance 
it  was  fifty  to  seventy  yards 
away,  skimming  low  over 
the  heather.  Nevertheless  by 
the  time  we  had  got  to  the  end 
of  the  flat  we  had  shot  thirty- 
two  woodcock  and  ten  hares. 
We  tried  several  likely  places 
afterwards,  but  only  saw  a 
single  woodcock,  though  we 
got  several  grouse,  and  at  one 
rocky  place  had  great  shooting 
in  a  colony  of  queer  little  grey 
rabbits. 

During  lunch  Brogan  pointed 
to  a  golden  eagle,  at  first  only 
a  tiny  speck  high  up  in  the 
sky ;  but  as  the  bird  drew 
nearer,  it  gradually  began  to 
look  huge ;  and  though  it 
appeared  to  be  sailing  majes- 
tically on  dead  wing,  yet  we 
could  easily  see  that  in  reality 
it  was  travelling  at  a  great 
pace.  While  we  were  resting 
in  the  heather  after  lunch, 
M'Kensie  told  us  wonderful 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


483 


yarns  of  eagles  carrying  off 
fair-sized  children  from  under 
their  mothers'  noses,  and  as- 
sured us  that  in  the  days  when 
eagles  were  plentiful  in  these 
parts  it  used  to  be  most  dan- 
gerous for  small  children  to 
wear  red  petticoats  in  the 
mountain  districts.  It  seemed 
that  red  was  as  fascinating  a 
colour  to  eagles  as  it  was 
maddening  to  bulls.  He  added 
that  every  year  he  saw  fewer 
eagles,  and  that  now  he  only 
knew  of  one  pair  which  built 
regularly  in  his  neighbour- 
hood. 

After  lunch  we  gradually 
worked  our  way  back  to 
M'Kensie's  cottage,  but  after 
leaving  the  flat  where  the 
flight  of  woodcock  had  pitched 
we  did  not  see  a  single  wood- 
cock— only  a  few  grouse  and 
a  fair  number  of  hares.  Though 
Mrs  M'Kensie  was  most  anx- 
ious to  give  us  tea,  I  failed  to 
get  Charles  to  face  the  smoke 
barrage  in  the  chimneyless  cot- 
tage, and  we  at  once  mounted 
our  ponies  and  started  for 
home.  Riding  home,  I  asked 
Brogan  what  would  become 
of  M'Kensie's  children  when 
they  grew  up,  and  he  an- 
swered, "  Sure,  won't  Americy 
take  as  many  boys  and  girls 
as  we  will  send  them  ?  " 

That  evening  after  supper 
was  over  and  Brogan  was 
drinking  whisky  -  and  -  water 
with  us,  or  rather  I  should 
say  whisky,  as  he  did  not 
think  water  wholesome  with 
whisky — "  The  whisky  to-day 
and  the  water  to-morrow,"  he 


said  to  Charles  the  first  night 
at  the  lodge  when  Charles 
offered  him  a  drink, — he  asked 
us  if  we  would  care  to  go 
with  him  to  a  village  in  the 
mountains  about  ten  miles 
inland,  where  they  ran  a  still 
every  day  of  the  week  except 
Sundays,  and  assured  us  that 
Jameson's  Distillery  above  in 
Dublin  did  not  brew  half  as 
much  whisky  in  the  year  as 
was  made  in  this  village.  He 
added  that  it  was  a  famous 
village  entirely,  as  it  was  re- 
puted to  have  produced  more 
priests  and  "  poteen "  than 
any  other  village  in  the  West 
of  Ireland.  Charles  asked  what 
was  the  connection  between 
priests  and  "  poteen,"  and 
Brogan  explained,  "  Sure  yer 
honour's  simple :  doesn't  poteen 
make  money,  and  doesn't  it 
take  money  to  make  a  priest  ?  " 
We  agreed  to  go,  but  Charles 
insisted  that  we  should  ride. 
Afterwards  he  told  me  that 
nothing  would  ever  induce  him 
to  drive  with  Brogan  again  on 
an  outside  car,  either  by  day 
or  night,  after  our  wild  night's 
drive  back  from  flight-shooting. 
After  a  late  breakfast  we 
started  on  our  ten-mile  ride  to 
the  famous  priest-and-"  poteen ' ' 
village.  There  had  been  a 
slight  frost  the  previous  night, 
and  the  day  was  perfect,  a 
brilliant,  cloudless  blue  sky  and 
a  bright  sun.  When  we  left 
the  lodge  the  Atlantic  looked 
like  the  Mediterranean,  while 
so  clear  was  the  air  that  one 
could  count  the  rocks  on  the 
mountains  more  than  three 


484 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


miles  away.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  wind,  and  we  could 
hear  the  Atlantic  rollers  break- 
ing on  the  beach  long  after  we 
had  left  the  lodge. 

During  the  ride  Brogan  ex- 
plained some  of  the  mysteries 
of  "  poteen  "  -  making  :  that 
you  could  make  it  from  bar- 
ley or  brown  sugar — treacle  he 
called  it.  That  the  "  poteen  " 
made  from  barley  was  far 
better  than  that  made  from 
treacle,  but  that  if  you  used 
barley  you  had  either  to  buy 
or  grow  it,  and  in  either  case 
the  police  became  unpleasantly 
inquisitive  ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  treacle  was  easily  bought 
from  a  shopkeeper,  and  nobody 
was  any  the  wiser. 

At  one  time  the  police  used 
to  give  a  large  reward  for 
information  leading  to  the 
seizure  of  a  still,  and  Brogan 
told  us  that  one  man  made  a 
fortune  by  giving  information 
to  the  police.  First  he  gave 
a  contract  to  a  travelling  tinker 
to  make  a  lot  of  stills  at  a  low 
price,  and  after  leaving  these 
stills  in  different  places  with 
the  remains  of  a  fire,  would 
lodge  his  information  and  claim 
the  rewards. 

When  we  began  to  get  near 
the  village,  which  lay  in  the 
middle  of  a  large  flat  bog  and 
at  a  ford  across  a  river,  we 
noticed  several  bare-legged  chil- 
dren partly  hidden  in  the 
heather  at  different  points. 
Brogan  explained  that  all  the 
children  of  the  village  were 


carefully  trained  by  an  ex- 
soldier  to  act  as  scouts,  and 
that  they  never  allowed  the 
police  or  any  stranger  to  ap- 
proach near  the  village  when 
a  still  was  being  run  without 
giving  timely  warning. 

On  arrival  at  the  village  we 
found  a  still  in  full  blast  in  an 
old  road  which  ran  down  to 
the  river,  two  men  working  at 
the  still,  while  several  children 
brought  turf  in  creels  on  don- 
keys in  a  continuous  flow  to 
keep  the  fire  going. 

After  a  time  we  adjourned 
to  a  cottage  for  refreshment, 
and  Brogan  insisted  on  my 
drinking  a  glass  of  "  poteen," 
which  made  me  cough  and  reel, 
while  Charles,  after  refusing 
"  poteen,"  gladly  accepted  a 
mug  of  milk  from  the  woman 
of  the  house.  It  turned  out 
afterwards  that  Brogan,  ex- 
pecting that  Charles  would  re- 
fuse to  drink  the  "  poteen,"  had 
heavily  "  laced  "  the  mug  of 
milk  with  "  poteen,"  with  the 
result  that  the  usually  staid 
and  sober  Charles  rode  back 
to  the  lodge  at  a  hand-gallop, 
and  singing  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  to  the  huge  delight  of 
Brogan. 

The  next  day  being  Sunday, 
Brogan  suggested  a  fox-hunt  in 
the  mountains ;  and  it  was 
finally  settled  that  we  should 
ride  out  after  breakfast  to  the 
cottage  of  a  man  called  Tim 
O'Hara,  who  lived  in  a  lonely 
glen  beyond  M'Kensie's  cot- 
tage. 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


485 


IV. 


When  we  were  ready  to 
start  on  our  ride  to  O'Hara's, 
we  found  that  Brogan  had  sent 
his  son  the  previous  evening 
to  borrow  two  fox-terriers  from 
the  parson  of  the  town  where 
we  had  previously  attended 
the  fair.  The  two  terriers 
knew  well  that  there  was  sport 
ahead,  and  were  mad  keen 
to  get  a  move  on. 

About  two  miles  beyond 
M'Kensie's  cottage  we  came 
to  the  glen  where  the  O'Hara's 
lived.  The  cottage  was  neat 
and  tidy,  with  good  out-build- 
ings— a  great  contrast  to  the 
M'Kensies'  dirty  and  untidy 
home.  Brogan  told  us  that 
about  twenty  years  previously 
O'Hara  built  his  cottage  in 
the  glen  himself,  and  had  re- 
claimed all  the  land  we  saw 
under  cultivation,  and  laid  it 
down  in  grass.  Mrs  O'Hara 
gave  us  a  great  welcome,  and 
told  us  that  it  was  time  "  them 
dirty  blayguards  "  of  foxes  were 
hunted  out  of  that.  "  Sure 
every  morning  before  I  let  out 
me  bins  I  do  be  after  hunting 
the  little  garden  with  the  dogs, 
for  fear  one  of  them  rotten  foxes 
could  be  waiting  for  the  hins." 
Presently  O'Hara  and  his  son 
joined  us  with  a  sheep-dog, 
and  we  set  out  for  the  home 
of  the  "  dirty  blayguards," 
but  we  had  not  gone  far  when 
"Tiny"  and  "Nettle"  were 
found  to  be  missing,  so  the 
Brogan  boy  was  sent  back  to 
the  cottage.  Presently  he  re- 
turned with  the  terriers  tied, 


but  doing  their  utmost  to  get 
back  to  the  cottage.  During 
our  short  absence  they  had 
had  a  great  hunt  after  the 
O'Hara  cats,  finally  "  treeing  " 
them  up  a  four-post  bed ; 
and  when  the  Brogan  boy 
arrived  "  Nettle  "  was  trying 
to  run  up  one  of  the  bedposts, 
while  "  Tiny "  waited  below 
for  the  victims. 

The  fox-den  was  situated  in 
a  great  pile  of  rocks  on  a 
ledge  on  the  mountain  -  side, 
and  was  one  of  the  most  des- 
olate places  imaginable.  The 
place  was  a  wilderness  of  moss, 
bog,  and  granite,  barren  beyond 
description,  while  the  dreari- 
ness of  the  waste  was  in- 
describable. 

At  the  time  there  was  an 
east-wind  haze  over  the  moun- 
tains, which  created  a  sense  of 
great  distances.  Even  the  rocks 
quite  close  looked  to  be  in  the 
dim  distance  —  a  wonderful 
change,  even  in  this  ever- 
changing  land,  from  the  days 
we  had  lately  experienced. 

On  our  way  to  the  fox-den 
we  passed  the  body  of  a  dead 
mountain  sheep.  Several 
ravens  and  grey  crows,  which 
were  feasting  on  the  carcase, 
rose  reluctantly  when  we  were 
within  a  few  yards  of  them, 
and  returned  again  directly  we 
had  passed. 

After  warning  us  to  keep 
quiet,  Brogan  let  loose  the 
terriers,  and  they  went  to 
ground  at  once  without  a 
sound.  After  a  short  time 


486 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


we  could  hear  a  faint  excited 
whimper  deep  down  in  the 
heart  of  the  den,  and  almost 
at  once  a  fine  dog-fox  stole 
ont  the  side  of  the  den  away 
from  where  we  were  standing. 
O'Hara's  dog,  "  Kniger,"  at 
once  gave  chase,  and  as  the 
fox  went  down  the  side  of  the 
mountain  below  us,  we  had  a 
fine  view  of  the  hunt.  "  Kru- 
ger  "  gained  slowly  on  the  fox, 
and  before  the  "  dirty  blay- 
guard  "  had  gone  four  hundred 
yards,  overtook  and  closed  with 
him.  Then  ensued  a  great 
battle  between  the  two.  In 
the  meantime  the  terriers  had 
emerged  from  the  den,  and 
taking  up  the  scent,  at  once 
flung  themselves  down  the 
mountain-side  in  hot  pursuit 
like  dogs  possessed,  and  giving 
tongue  for  all  they  were  worth  ; 
but  before  they  could  join  in 
the  fray  "  Kruger "  had  fin- 
ished the  fox. 

We  then  moved  on  to  an- 
other den,  and  this  time  only 
"  Tiny  "  was  allowed  to  go  to 
ground.  After  a  considerable 
time  we  could  hear  the  muffled 
barks  of  "  Tiny,"  and  as  no 
fox  bolted  "  Nettle  "  was  let  in. 

Then  ensued  long  alternate 
periods  of  barking  and  silence, 
and  O'Hara  said  that  he  was 
afraid  that  the  terriers  had 
run  into  an  old  badger  and 
could  not  move  him,  and  it 
would  be  black  dark  before  we 
could  get  them  out.  How- 
ever, after  about  two  hours' 
waiting,  out  ambled  a  great 
old  badger — O'Hara  said  after- 
wards that  he  was  as  big  as 
a  calf, — followed  by  the  terriers, 


a  mass  of  mud  and  blood,  and 
so  exhausted  that  they  could 
only  lie  down  and  pant.  We 
found  that  the  badger  had 
bitten  "Nettle"  badly,  and 
so  weak  was  she  that  we  had 
to  carry  her  back  to  the  cot- 
tage, and  after  washing  her 
wounds,  give  her  warm  milk 
and  raw  eggs. 

After  tea  we  started  for 
home,  Brogan  carrying 
"  Nettle  "  in  a  game-bag,  be- 
ing greatly  afraid  that  the 
parson  would  never  lend  him 
the  terriers  again.  "  Tiny," 
however,  was  quite  recovered 
before  we  left  the  O'Hara's  ; 
and,  to  show  how  fit  he  was, 
insisted  on  having  another  dart 
at  the  cats. 

Before  we  got  back  to  the 
lodge  the  wind  veered  to  the 
south-east,  and  the  rain  started 
in  earnest.  We  were  thankful 
to  get  back  to  a  hot  bath  and 
dry  clothes.  During  the  next 
three  days  the  rain  never 
stopped,  and  we  began  to 
think  there  might  be  some- 
thing in  the  story  of  the  wid- 
ow's cruse. 

Our  housekeeping  arrange- 
ments at  this  period  were 
greatly  upset  by  the  death  of 
a  relation  of  Mrs  Brogan,  the 
"  wake  "  lasting  for  three  days 
and  three  nights,  and  seeming 
to  be  always  claiming  her 
attention,  so  much  so  that 
when  I  at  last  remonstrated 
with  her,  the  good  woman 
burst  into  tears,  and  told  me 
that  "  sure  any  one  might 
forget  their  memory  and  me 
being  up  three  nights  at  the 
wake."  Brogan,  however, 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


487 


cheered  us  greatly  with  the 
good  news  that,  as  soon  as 
the  rain  should  quit,  we  would 
have  grand  snipe-shooting  ;  also 
that  the  priest  had  insisted  on 
Mrs  Brogan's  relation  being 
buried  at  once  —  and  "not  a 
day  too  soon,"  he  added. 

Our  best  snipe-ground  con- 
sisted of  a  long  narrow  valley 
running  from  the  foot  of  the 
mountains  to  the  sea,  a  dis- 
tance of  several  miles.  Up 
to  the  time  of  the  Great 
Famine  it  had  been  thickly 
inhabited,  and  along  its  whole 
length  the  remains  of  many 
cottages  could  still  be  seen. 
A  little  river  ran  through  the 
middle  of  the  valley,  and  on 
each  bank  were  the  remains  of 
the  former  tenants'  cultiva- 
tions, now  rushy  wet  grassland, 
with  all  the  drains  choked  up, 
and  making  splendid  snipe- 
ground.  On  the  outskirts  of 
this  rushy  ground  were  many 
small  marshes,  and  beyond 
great  heathery  flats  running 
up  to  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tains— in  short,  every  kind  of 
ground  a  snipe  could  desire 
for  feeding  or  resting. 

The  first  time  we  shot  this 
ground  was  on  a  close  day, 
with  a  darkish  sky  and  a  light 
west  wind,  and  the  snipe  seemed 
to  be  affected  by  the  heaviness 
of  the  atmosphere.  Many  of 
them,  especially  where  the 
cover  was  thick,  lying  like 
stones,  some  of  them  so  close 
that  when  they  rose  a  sheet 
would  have  covered  bird,  setter, 
and  gun. 

Before  we  started  to  shoot, 
Brogan  gave  us  a  lecture  on 


snipe-shooting,  and  we  after- 
wards proved  the  soundness  of 
his  advice  by  the  good  bags 
we  made.  He  made  a  great 
point  of  not  talking  and  of 
going  slow,  and  of  always 
shooting  across  the  wind  when 
possible.  The  great  advantage 
of  keeping  silent  was  brought 
home  to  us  when  Charles,  in 
his  excitement,  yelled  to  the 
Brogan  boy  to  bring  him  some 
more  cartridges.  At  the  sound 
of  his  voice  every  snipe  in  the 
small  marsh  we  were  shooting 
at  the  time  rose  with  a  screech 
and  well  out  of  shot. 

Brogan  only  worked  one  set- 
ter at  a  time,  and  "  Grouse," 
true  to  his  name,  was  always 
inclined  to  wander  off  into 
the  heather  in  search  of  grouse  ; 
while  "  Fan,"  the  steadier  setter 
of  the  two,  always  stuck  to  the 
snipe-ground. 

Along  the  stream  and  in 
some  of  the  wetter  marshes 
we  put  up  several  mallard  and 
teal,  while  in  the  heather 
"  Grouse  "  found  several  packs 
of  grouse  and  half  a  dozen 
woodcock.  We  saw  a  few 
hares  during  the  days,  and 
two  "  stands  "  of  golden  plover, 
out  of  one  of  which  we  brought 
down  fourteen  birds  with  our 
four  barrels.  Curlew  we  saw 
and  heard  frequently,  but  got 
few  shots  at  this  wariest  of 
wild  birds.  It  was  curious  to 
see  how  these  birds,  if  they 
did  not  notice  us,  would  pursue 
and  mob  a  red  setter,  most 
likely  thinking  it  was  some  kind 
of  fox,  and  on  one  occasion  a 
flock  of  curlew  were  so  occu- 
pied with  abusing  "  Fan  "  that 


488 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


they  nearly  flew  into  our  faces 
before  they  realised  the  danger 
they  were  in. 

Hawks  we  saw  in  plenty, 
peregrines,  sparrow-hawks,  and 
kestrels.  On  two  occasions  we 
were  followed  for  considerable 
distances  by  a  hen  sparrow- 
hawk,  and  on  the  second  occa- 
sion the  hawk  swooped  and 
picked  up  a  dead  snipe  which 
Charles  had  shot,  and  which 
had  fallen  dead  on  a  patch  of 
bright  green  grass  about  two 
hundred  yards  ahead  of  us. 
We  saw  a  fair  number  of  jack- 
snipe,  chiefly  in  the  marshes, 
and  while  some  were  easy  to 
shoot,  others  seemed  impossible 
to  bring  down.  Charles  had  a 
great  hunt  after  one  elusive 
jack,  and  at  last  he  gave  up, 
saying  he  was  sure  the  bird 
flew  through  the  pattern  every 
time. 

During  the  day  we  came 
across  the  strangest  human 
being  and  the  strangest  human 
habitation  I  have  ever  seen. 
Bight  out  in  the  middle  of  a 
large  bog  lived  a  little  old 
woman,  with  a  few  hens,  in 
a  house  the  country  people 
had  made  for  her  by  cutting 
sods  out  of  the  bog  itself,  and 
piling  them  one  on  top  of  the 
other  to  form  the  walls  ;  while 
the  roof  consisted  of  half  a  doz- 
en pieces  of  wood  with  similar 
sods  laid  on  them.  A  hole  in 
the  roof  served  to  let  out  the 
smoke.  The  door  consisted  of 
a  small  hole  in  the  wall,  while 
the  level  of  the  floor  was  below 
the  level  of  the  ground  outside. 
Brogan  told  us  that  so  old 
was  she  that  she  had  outlived 


all  her  children  and  even  her 
grandchildren,  and  I  could  well 
believe  it  from  her  appearance. 
I  have  never  seen  such  deep 
lines  or  such  a  shrivelled-up 
look  on  the  face  of  any  living 
person.  Brogan  told  us  that 
she  used  to  talk  of  the  Eebel- 
lion  of  1798,  but  that  it  was 
no  use  asking  her  questions, 
as  she  was  stone  -  deaf  and 
"  had  no  English."  Several 
families  had  offered  her  a  home, 
but  she  preferred  to  live  alone, 
with  her  few  old  hens  and  a 
cat,  in  her  own  house  in  the 
bog — such  is  the  love  of  pos- 
session in  the  heart  of  every 
Irish  peasant. 

We  shot  as  long  as  there 
was  any  light,  and  the  num- 
ber of  snipe  we  saw  was  truly 
wonderful ;  but  the  great  charm 
of  the  shooting  was  the  variety 
of  game,  and  never  knowing 
what  would  get  up  next.  On 
our  way  home  in  the  dusk  we 
could  hear  flock  after  flock  of 
widgeon  flying  overhead  on 
their  way  to  the  sea — the  first 
widgeon  we  had  heard  or  seen 
since  our  arrival. 

When  out  shooting  we  often 
used  to  see  large  flocks  of 
white-fronted  geese,  sometimes 
flying  in  great  Vs  to  some  wet 
meadow  -  lands  close  to  the 
mouth  of  the  river  which  ran 
past  the  lodge,  and  also  resting 
during  the  daytime  in  different 
bogs ;  but  though  we  had 
often  tried  to  stalk  them,  so 
far  we  had  always  failed  to 
get  within  shot.  It  used  to 
be  most  interesting  to  watch  a 
large  flock  of  geese  resting  in  the 
middle  of  the  bog.  Some  would 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


489 


appear  to  be  sound  asleep, 
standing  on  one  leg,  with  their 
heads  tucked  under  a  wing ; 
while  others  would  be  going 
through  an  elaborate  toilet, 
cleaning  every  feather  of  their 
bodies  and  wings  which  their 
supple  necks  could  reach. 
Every  flock  had  a  sentry  posted 
in  the  most  advantageous  posi- 
tion, and  through  the  glasses 
one  could  see  this  bird  scanning 
every  point  of  danger  in  the 
bog  unceasingly  ;  but  once  we 
nearly  succeeded  in  outwitting 
the  sentry.  While  we  were 
watching  a  flock,  two  children, 
driving  donkeys  with  creels 
on  their  backs  to  draw  turf 
from  a  stack  close  to  where 
we  were  hidden,  passed  within 
easy  shot  of  the  geese,  the 
sentry  taking  no  notice  of 
them  at  all.  After  the  children 
had  filled  the  creels  we  walked 
back  with  them,  crouching  on 
the  blind  side  of  the  donkeys. 
All  went  well  until  we  came 
within  about  120  yards  of  the 
flock,  when  the  sentry,  who  must 
have  noticed  that  the  donkeys 
had  suddenly  grown  a  pair  of 
stockinged  legs  in  addition  to 
their  own,  gave  a  low  cackle. 
At  once  there  was  a  dead  silence, 
and  every  goose's  head  went 
up  ;  and  before  we  had  gone 
another  five  yards  the  whole 
flock  was  up  and  off. 

Coming  in  from  snipe-shoot- 
ing one  evening,  we  noticed  a 
sudden  and  great  change  in 
the  air  and  sky.  There  was  a 
bitter  sting  in  the  north-west 
wind,  and  the  whole  sky  to 
the  north  and  west  was  a 
wonderful  vivid  duck-egg  green 


colour,  with  heavy  fleecy  white 
clouds  on  the  skyline  to  sea. 
During  the  day  the  snipe  had 
been  growing  wilder  and  wilder, 
while  all  the  duck  and  geese 
in  the  country  seemed  to  be 
making  their  way  to  the  At- 
lantic. The  next  morning  when 
I  woke  up  my  bedroom  was 
full  of  a  brilliant  white  light, 
and  when  I  looked  out  of  the 
window  the  country  was  cov- 
ered with  a  mantle  of  snow. 
We  thought  that  our  shooting 
was  at  an  end  for  the  time 
being,  but  far  from  it. 

It  seemed  that  during  the 
snow  the  only  feeding-ground 
the  geese  had  was  on  the  wet 
meadow-land  near  the  mouth 
of  the  river.  In  the  middle 
of  this  ground  were  several 
springs,  and  here  Brogan  had 
made  hiding-places  built  of 
low  sod  walls. 

That  evening,  about  an  hour 
before  the  moon  rose,  we  pro- 
ceeded to  our  hiding-places, 
and  we  must  have  presented  a 
queer  sight.  Mrs  Brogan  pos- 
sessed three  white  night-gowns, 
and  we  each  wore  one,  while 
she  had  made  during  the  day 
a  white  cap  for  each  of  us  out 
of  an  old  sheet.  The  remainder 
of  the  sheet  had  been  used  to 
make  a  weird  garment  for 
"  Paddy,"  which  converted  him 
into  a  complete  white  Irish 
water-spaniel,  with  a  pair  of 
yellow  eyes.  Even  his  bare 
tail  was  covered.  I  told  Charles 
the  least  he  could  do  was  to 
offer  Mrs  Brogan  the  loan  of  a 
pair  of  his  pyjamas  in  return. 

Very  soon  after  the  moon 
had  risen  the  geese  began  to 


490 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Oct. 


flight  into  the  meadow-land  in 
small  flocks ;  and  long  before 
we  could  see  their  dark  forms 
against  the  brilliant  steel-col- 
oured sky  we  heard  their  queer 
silly  laugh,  while  several  flocks 
flew  so  low  that  we  could  dis- 
tinctly see  them  yards  away, 
black  against  the  white  snow. 

The  cold  seemed  to  have 
temporarily  dulled  the  geese's 
keen  sense  of  caution,  or  per- 
haps hunger  made  them  fool- 
hardy. At  any  rate,  hardly 
any  of  the  flocks  took  their 
usual  precaution  of  carefully 
examining  every  inch  of  the 
ground  they  were  going  to 
alight  on  from  a  safe  height. 

If  we  had  done  badly  before 
with  the  geese,  we  now  made 
up  for  it,  and  hardly  a  flock 
got  clear  of  the  meadow-land 
that  night  without  losing  a 
member  of  its  mess.  At  first 
we  were  too  eager  and  tried 
to  shoot  the  geese  coming  at 
us,  but  after  a  warning  from 
Brogan  we  waited  until  the 
birds  were  overhead  or  gave 
us  side  shots.  Their  breasts 
resist  shot  like  a  sand-bag. 
"  Paddy  "  was  invaluable,  and 
in  the  moonlight  looked  like  a 
ghost  dog  carrying  in  a  goose 
from  the  swampy  springs. 

Brogan  told  us  that  on  the 
West  Coast  they  seldom  had  any 
very  hard  weather  during  the 
winter,  but  that  when  they 
did,  every  woodcock,  snipe, 
plover,  and  goose  in  the  West 
of  Ireland  would  make  his 
way  to  the  shores  of  the  At- 
lantic, and  could  be  seen  there 
every  day  turning  over  the 
seaweed  in  search  of  food,  and 


as  tame  as  hens.  If  the  weather 
lasted  any  length  of  time,  they 
became  so  weak  that  the  coun- 
try boys  used  to  kill  the  snipe 
and  woodcock  with  sticks  by 
the  hundred. 

During  the  long  winter  even- 
ings peasants  used  to  visit 
the  Brogans,  often  from  great 
distances,  and  sometimes  even 
from  the  outlying  islands  of 
the  Atlantic,  and  Brogan  would 
often  bring  them  into  the 
sitting-room  to  entertain  us 
with  their  queer  stories.  One 
story  an  islander  told  us 
amused  us  greatly. 

Many  years  ago  on  the  island 
where  he  lived  there  was  not 
a  single  horse,  and  one  inhab- 
itant, more  enterprising  than 
the  rest,  determined  to  make 
a  journey  to  the  mainland  and 
bring  back  a  "  hoss  baste " 
with  him.  However,  he  found 
that  his  purse  would  not  run 
to  a  horse,  but  he  determined 
not  to  return  empty-handed. 
Among  many  wonderful  new 
things  he  saw  in  the  little 
town  he  was  visiting  was  an 
earthen  jar  in  a  shop  window. 
He  inquired  what  this  unknown 
article  might  be,  and,  to  his 
great  delight,  the  shopkeeper 
told  him  that  it  was  a  mare's 
egg,  which  if  kept  beside  the 
fire  during  the  winter  would 
infallibly  produce  in  the  follow- 
ing spring  the  finest  foal  that 
ever  was  seen.  The  price  was 
moderate,  and  the  islander  de- 
termined to  buy  the  jar.  On 
the  return  journey  the  happy 
man  never  let  the  jar  out  of 
his  own  hands  until  he  came 
within  sight  of  his  own  house, 


1921.] 


A  Shooting  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


491 


when  he  sat  down  to  rest,  and 
placed  the  jar  on  a  bank 
beside  him. 

Unfortunately  the  jar  rolled 
off  the  bank,  struck  a  rock, 
and  was  broken  in  pieces. 
A  hare  which  had  been  crouch- 
ing beneath  the  rock,  startled 
at  the  crash,  sprang  out  from 
her  form  and  went  off  at  great 
speed.  The  unhappy  islander, 
in  an  agony  of  despair,  gazed 
after  what  he  believed  to  be 
his  emancipated  foal,  and  ex- 
claimed with  a  bitter  groan, 
"God  be  with  me!  What  a 
hoss  he  would  have  been. 
'Arrah,  if  he  was  but  a  two- 
year-old,  the  divil  himself  would 
not  catch  him." 


We  had  promised  Mary  that 
we  would  be  home  for  Christ- 
mas, and  as  towards  the  middle 
of  December  the  weather  be- 
came bad  and  the  best  of  the 
snipe-shooting  was  then  over, 
we  determined  to  leave  the 
shooting  -  lodge.  On  a  wild 
December  morning  Larry  came 
with  his  "  Ford "  to  take  us 
on  our  long  journey  to  the 
station,  and  we  parted  with 
the  Brogans  with  mutual  re- 
grets on  both  sides,  and  after 
promising  to  return  the  follow- 
ing summer  for  the  fishing. 
Charles  and  I  both  agreed  that 
never  had  we  had  better  sport 
or  a  pleasanter  time  in  our 
lives. 


492 


[Oct. 


EIFLE   THIEVES  OF  IEAQ. 

BY  BRIGADIER-GENERAL  H.   H.   AUSTIN,   C.B.,   C.M.G.,  D.S.O. 

I. 


A  SHORT  while  ago  the  British 
public  were  not  a  little  per- 
turbed by  the  widespread  Arab 
revolt  in  Mesopotamia.  This 
assumed  such  threatening  pro- 
portions that  strong  reinforce- 
ments had  to  be  hastily  de- 
spatched from  India,  almost  at 
the  hottest  time  of  the  year, 
in  order  to  suppress  the  out- 
break and  restore  tranquillity 
in  those  disturbed  regions. 
Since  the  restoration  of  order 
throughout  the  areas  affected, 
the  large  number  of  rifles  lately 
announced  as  surrendered  by 
the  revolting  tribes  has  pro- 
bably come  rather  as  an  eye- 
opener  to  those  who  had  but 
vague  ideas  as  to  how  well 
armed  the  Arabs  of  Mesopo- 
tamia were,  at  the  time  of  the 
recent  upheaval.  For  this 
great  accession  of  strength  in 
the  matter  of  modern  arms 
the  Arabs  of  Iraq  were  largely 
indebted  to  the  operations  of 
the  Great  War  on  the  Tigris 
and  Euphrates.  Nations  of 
alien  races  were  there  struggling 
for  supremacy  for  four  long- 
drawn-out  years ;  and  though 
the  Arab  had  no  love  for 
Turkish  dominion,  and  was 
professedly  pleased  to  be  re- 
lieved, by  degrees,  of  the  par- 
alysing yoke  of  the  Sublime 
Porte,  yet  he  certainly  bore 
no  deep  affection  for  his  sup- 


posed saviours,  the  British. 
Nevertheless,  being  astute 
Orientals,  the  Arab  contrived 
for  long  to  run  with  the  hare 
and  hunt  with  the  hounds. 
He  accordingly  threw  in  his 
lot,  with  apparently  most  cheer- 
ful abandon,  with  whichever 
side  he  thought  at  the  moment 
would  ultimately  prove  top- 
dog  in  the  swaying  fortunes 
of  war.  All  he  then  desired 
was  to  benefit  himself  to  the 
utmost  possible  extent  by  mak- 
ing full  use  of  such  oppor- 
tunities as  came  his  way  owing 
to  the  presence  of  large  British 
and  Turkish  armies  fighting  on 
his  beloved  soil. 

I  propose,  however,  in  this 
article  to  confine  myself  merely 
to  one  aspect  of  how  the  Arab 
sought  to  derive  balm  in  Gilead 
whilst  his  country  was  dis- 
traught by  the  clash  of  arms 
between  foreign  foes.  As 
hinted  above,  these  were  by 
no  means  welcome  to  the  an- 
cient dwellers  of  Mesopotamia, 
whose  boasted  independence, 
for  the  time  being  at  all  events, 
was  somewhat  submerged  by 
the  requirements  of  the  con- 
tending armies  in  their  midst. 
Still,  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
breech-loading  magazine-rifles, 
and  thousands  of  tons  of  small- 
bore ammunition,  were  intro- 
duced into  the  country  by  the 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


493 


chief  combatants  on  Tigris  and 
Euphrates.  Here,  then,  was 
a  heaven-sent  opportunity  for 
the  acquisition  of  large  num- 
bers of  these  coveted  posses- 
sions by  those  daring  and 
cunning  enough  to  risk  their 
lives  in  securing  them  by 
stealth. 

Being  cosmopolitan  in  their 
sympathies,  the  Arabs  endeav- 
oured to  rob  rifles  indiscrimin- 
ately from  British  and  Turk 
alike.  The  largest  hauls  of 
British  rifles  were  probably 
made  on  the  bloody  battle- 
fields preceding  the  fall  of  Kut 
in  1916.  The  din  of  conflict 
never  failed  to  attract  Arab 
horsemen  and  scavengers,  who, 
though  perhaps  until  then  un- 
seen, gathered  from  the  four 
corners  of  the  limitless  desert 
like  evil  beasts  of  prey.  As 
vultures  waiting  for  their  vic- 
tims to  breathe  their  last,  so 
would  these  human  carrion 
hover  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
battle  until  the  darkness  of 
night  temporarily  stayed  the 
strife.  Then,  with  consum- 
mate daring  would  they  often 
penetrate  between  the  lines  of 
the  contending  forces,  to  ap- 
propriate the  rifles  and  am- 
munition of  those  who  had 
fallen,  and  had  not  yet  been 
removed  to  safety  from  the 
zone  of  fire.  Not  a  few  wound- 
ed, it  is  feared,  whilst  lying  out 
in  the  rain  and  mud  which  so 
frequently  followed  upon  an 
engagement  on  a  large  scale 
before  Kut,  must  have  suffered 
grievously  at  the  hands  of 
those  pitiless  wretches.  The 
clearing-up  of  battlefields  was 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXXH. 


accompanied  by  no  small  risk, 
as  the  search  and  stretcher 
parties  engaged  on  their  pain- 
ful tasks  would  encounter 
Arabs  at  almost  every  turn, 
and  with  difficulty  drive  them 
off  from  their  fiendish  occu- 
pation. 

When  the  day  was  lost  and 
the  Turks  in  full  flight  after 
the  battle  of  Nasirieh  on  the 
Euphrates  in  1915,  their  Arab 
levies  immediately  turned  on 
them  and  joined  in  the  pursuit 
of  the  beaten  enemy.  Thou- 
sands of  Turkish  rifles  were 
probably  captured  by  the  Arabs 
during  those  days,  and  hun- 
dreds of  the  scattered  Turks 
slaughtered  by  their  quondam 
alh'es.  What  the  Turkish  losses 
in  rifles  and  men  were  at  the 
hands  of  Arabs  throughout 
their  retreat  from  Kut  to  Bagh- 
dad, early  in  1917,  will  probably 
never  be  known ;  but  they 
must  have  been  considerable, 
as  the  Turks  taken  by  us  were 
overjoyed  at  being  made  pris- 
oners. This  they  far  preferred 
to  falling  victims  to  guerilla 
bands  of  Arabs  following  close 
in  their  wake. 

I  have  suggested  that  scant 
mercy  was  likely  to  be  shown 
to  any  combatant  who  un- 
happily fell  into  the  hands  of 
Arab  marauders  during  or  after 
an  engagement  in  Iraq  ;  and 
though  instances  occur  to  my 
mind  of  how  British  and  Indian 
wounded  sometimes  fared  on 
such  occasions,  I  refrain  from 
enlarging  on  this  painful  sub- 
ject. But  it  was  not  only  to 
the  living  the  riverain  Arab 
frequently  showed  himself  to 
T 


494 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


be  without  pity  or  remorse, 
for  even  the  dead  and  buried 
were  not  allowed  to  rest  in 
peace.  So  general  in  course  of 
time  became  the  practice  of 
the  Arabs — men,  women,  and 
children — to  disinter  the  dead, 
in  the  hope  of  securing  an  old 
pair  of  ammunition  boots,  blan- 
ket, jersey,  or  any  other  blood- 
saturated  garment,  that  finally 
all  traces  of  the  burying-places 
adjacent  to  the  battlefields 
had  to  be  carefully  obliter- 
ated, in  order  to  conceal  their 
positions  from  the  ghoulish 
inhabitants  of  this  accursed 
country. 

The  Arab,  as  is  commonly 
known,  is  a  good  judge  and 
devout  lover  of  the  horse  as 
well  as  of  a  trusty  rifle ;  and, 
to  give  the  devil  his  due,  his 
courage  and  cunning  in  ab- 
stracting chargers  from  almost 
under  the  eyes  of  alert  sentries 
stamp  him  as  a  real  artist  in 
the  matter  of  horse-stealing. 
In  the  earlier  days  of  the  ex- 
tended operations  before  Kut, 
the  flank  of  the  force  distri- 
buted for  miles  along  the  right 
bank  of  the  Tigris,  up-stream 
of  Shaikh  Sa'ad,  was  exposed 
to  incursions  by  Arabs  from 
the  plains  to  the  south.  On 
dark  nights,  and  in  inclement 
weather,  it  was  not  difficult 
for  Arab  thieves  to  penetrate 
outer  lines  of  sentries,  and 
worm  their  way  into  the  pre- 
cincts of  various  camps  in  this 
area  where  horses  and  rifles 
were  known  to  be  plentiful. 
The  theft  of  rifles  under  such 
circumstances,  though  requir- 
ing great  nerve  a.nd  discriminaT 


tion,  might  be  regarded  as 
comparatively  simple  to  those 
expert  thieves  ;  but  the  silent 
removal  of  several  valuable 
chargers  at  one  fell  swoop 
from  a  sleeping  camp,  through 
inner  and  outer  lines  of  sen- 
tries, betokens  skill  of  an  ex- 
ceptional order.  And  yet  this 
feat  was  accomplished  again 
and  again  without  any  one 
being  the  wiser,  until  daylight 
revealed  the  loss.  The  only 
explanation  the  sentries  on 
duty  over  the  horses  could  then 
give  was  probably  to  the  effect 
that,  hearing  a  disturbance  in 
the  mule  lines  near  by,  say, 
their  attention  had  been  tem- 
porarily distracted  in  that  direc- 
tion ;  but  they  had  not  seen 
nor  heard  any  movement 
among  the  horses  committed 
to  their  charge.  Still,  several 
of  these  were  gone  ;  and  neither 
inner  nor  outer  cordon  of  sen- 
tries had  noticed  anything  sus- 
picious, or  challenged  any  one, 
throughout  the  vigils  of  the 
night.  In  this  manner  it  was 
that  the  distinguished  general 
conducting  the  operations  dur- 
ing the  attempt  to  relieve  Kut 
in  April  1916  was  victimised, 
among  many  others,  by  Arab 
horse-thieves.  The  success  of 
such  enterprises, therefore,  clear- 
ly denotes  most  careful  pre- 
vious reconnaissance  and  loca- 
tion of  sentries  ;  an  amazing 
knowledge  of,  or  influence  over, 
horses,  who  thus  untethered  at 
night  silently  followed  a  com- 
plete stranger  without  demur  ; 
and  the  uncanny  ability  of 
that  stranger  to  see  by  night 
almost  as  well  as  by  day ;  not 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


495 


to  mention  cold  calculated  cour- 
age of  an  unusual  type  in  the 
midst  of  hidden  dangers. 

The  summer  of  1916  was  a 
particularly  trying  one  to  the 
troops  before  Kut.  It  is  no 
secret  that  the  moral  of  the 
British  forces  during  that  hot 
weather  was  far  from  high. 
Not  only  had  very  heavy  losses 
been  incurred  during  the  first 
four  months  of  the  year  in  our 
efforts  to  succour  Townshend 
and  his  ten  thousand  locked 
up  in  Kut,  but  all  these  sacri- 
fices had  been  in  vain,  for  Kut 
had  surrendered  to  the  Turk 
before  the  end  of  April.  This 
alone  was  a  depressing  reflec- 
tion to  those  who  had  done 
their  utmost  to  extricate  the 
beleaguered  garrison;  but  the 
proper  maintenance  of  the  Brit- 
ish army  in  its  advanced  posi- 
tion subsequently  became  a 
problem  of  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty during  that  fell  season 
of  the  year.  Much  sickness 
resulted  from  the  inadequate 
means  at  our  disposal  to  keep 
the  troops  well  supplied  with 
fresh  vegetables  and  other  nutri- 
tious foods  ;  for  the  peculiar 
situation  on  the  Tigris  made  it 
impossible  to  get  river  steamers 
up  much  beyond  Shaikh  Sa'ad, 
which  became  the  advanced 
base  of  our  army.  The  Turks 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Tigris 
still  held  on  to  their  strongly- 
entrenched  position  about  San- 
naiyat,  some  17  or  18  miles 
north-west  of  Shaikh  Sa'ad 
in  a  direct  line,  though  half 
as  much  again  by  river.  Here 
their  right  flank  on  that  bank 
rested  on  the  river,  whilst 


their  left  rested  on  the  great 
Suwaicha  marsh,  which  ex- 
tended many  miles  to  the 
north.  On  the  right  bank  of 
the  river,  however,  the  Turks 
surreptitiously  withdrew  from 
their  dominating  forward  posi- 
tions covering  the  approaches 
to  Kut  from  the  east,  where 
they  had  successfully  held  our 
forces  at  bay  until  Kut  fell. 
They,  too,  apparently  had 
found  the  difficulties  of  main- 
tenance beyond  their  compass  ; 
and,  anticipating  no  further 
active  operations  during  the 
heat  of  the  summer  months, 
they  abandoned  all  positions 
as  far  back  as,  and  beyond, 
the  Dujailah  Eedoubt,  which 
we  had  failed  to  capture  by  a 
surprise  attack  early  in  March. 
The  enemy  now  occupied  a 
strongly-entrenched  position  in 
rear  across  the  angle  formed 
by  the  rivers  Tigris  and  Hai, 
only  a  few  miles  east  and  south 
of  Kut.  His  new  flank  on  the 
right  bank  of  the  Tigris  was 
thus  some  12  or  15  miles  up- 
stream of  the  narrow  front  held 
by  him  at  Sannaiyat  on  the 
left  bank.  But  the  entire 
left  bank  throughout  this  in- 
tervening space  bristled  with 
trenches,  machine-guns,  and  re- 
doubts to  oppose  any  attempt 
at  a  crossing  from  the  right 
bank  of  the  river,  which  here 
averaged  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  width.  When  it  was 
realised  what  the  Turk  had 
done,  the  British  commander 
immediately  pushed  forward 
his  troops  and  occupied  the 
Dujailah  and  other  redoubts. 
And  these  served  subsequently 


496 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


as  the  jumping-off  place  for 
the  very  successful  operations 
conducted  by  General  Maude 
in  the  following  winter. 

The  farther  advance  of  our 
line  to  this  forward  position, 
however,  unquestionably  ag- 
gravated the  difficulties  of 
supply ;  for  the  distance  in  a 
direct  line — avoiding  the  great 
north  -  westerly  bend  of  the 
Tigris  hereabouts — across  the 
desert  from  the  large  depot 
being  formed  at  Shaikh  Sa'ad 
to  Dujailah  had  been  increased 
to  some  25  miles.  Intermediate 
strong  points  had  to  be  estab- 
lished along  the  desert  route, 
and  water  conveyed  to  them 
from  the  Tigris — in  several 
cases  8  to  10  miles  distant ; 
whilst  mule-cart  and  camel 
convoys  plied  incessantly  be- 
tween the  various  depots  and 
the  troops  in  the  forward  area. 
There  were  no  roads,  and  the 
surface  of  the  alluvial  plain, 
now  as  dry  as  a  bone,  quickly 
became  disintegrated  into  pow- 
der several  inches  thick  along 
the  frequented  tracks.  Owing 
to  the  great  heat,  and  scarcity 
of  water  by  these  inland  routes, 
the  convoys  were  obliged  to 
move  by  night,  when  visi- 
bility was  still  further  reduced 
by  reason  of  haze  and  the 
clouds  of  dust  raised  by  the 
weary  transport.  Arab  horse- 
men from  the  south,  familiarly 
known  as  "  Buddoos,"  were 
not  slow  to  take  advantage  of 
these  favourable  conditions  for 
swooping  down  out  of  the 
darkness,  stampeding  convoys, 
and  securing  rifles  and  other 
loot  from  those  who  had  been 


surprised.  It  was  a  nerve- 
racking  experience  for  ill-fed 
and  sickly  troops  employed  on 
convoy  work. 

Nor  was  any  relief  obtained 
from  such  experiences  until 
the  light  two-foot  gauge  rail- 
way across  the  desert  was  well 
under  way  from  the  defensive 
perimeter  constructed  round 
the  advanced  base  about  Shaikh 
Sa'ad.  Then,  as  the  railway 
was  pushed  steadily  forward 
towards  Dujailah  and  the  Hai 
river,  a  line  of  low-command 
octagonal  block-houses  sprang 
up  in  the  desert  between  the 
puny  railway  and  the  bound- 
less prairies  to  the  south.  They 
were  excavated  in  the  earth 
every  500  or  600  yards  apart, 
and  connected  with  each  other 
by  barbed-wire  entanglements. 
These  formed  a  salient  about 
midway  between  each  block- 
house, the  respective  rays  being 
flanked  by  rifle -fire  from  the 
adjacent  block-house  whence 
they  emanated.  And  in  each 
of  these  cosy  underground  habi- 
tations some  ten  N.C.O.'s  and 
men  dwelt  and  had  their  being, 
for  weeks  at  a  time — until 
relieved  by  their  own  or  an- 
other unit.  Block-house  duty 
was  essentially  a  popular  one. 
There  were  no  long  and  trying 
marches  for  these  cave-dwellers. 
Eations  and  water  were  drawn 
regularly  from  points  on  the 
railway  immediately  in  their 
rear.  By  day  one  sentry  in 
each  block-house  was  suffi- 
cient to  keep  a  watchful  eye 
on  the  dead  level,  open  plains 
stretching  away  to  the  south  ; 
whilst  his  pals  kicked  about  a 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


497 


football,  or  took  on  a  neigh- 
bouring block-house  team,  with- 
in the  secure  boundaries  of  the 
stout  barbed-wire  fencing  be- 
tween them  and  the  generally 
invisible  enemy.  Occasionally 
a  band  of  Arab  horsemen  might 
be  detected  prowling  about 
outside  in  the  haze,  or  reflected 
in  the  wonderful  mirages  so 
prevalent  over  these  plains. 
But  after  the  exciting  experi- 
ence of  drawing  fire  from  the 
alert  block-house  garrisons,  they 
soon  came  to  the  conclusion 
that,  by  day  at  all  events,  it 
were  wise  to  keep  a  respectful 
distance  from  this  barbed-wire 
fence.  The  block-houses  were 
designed  to  be  inconspicuous. 
Each  face  of  the  octagonal 
trench  was  only  15  ft.  in  length, 
and  the  parapet  2  ft.  6  in. 
above  ground  -  level ;  whilst 
the  roof  of  the  underground 
dwelling-place  within  this  en- 
closure did  not  protrude  above 
the  parapet  walls  around  it. 
Two  thousand  yards  off  they 
were  not  discernible  by  day  ; 
and  as  the  barbed-wire  fence 
of  South  African  triangular 
type — with  central  strands  up 
to  5  ft.  in  height,  and  front 
and  back  aprons  aggregating 
10  to  12  ft.  wide  at  the  base — 
was  not  readily  distinguish- 
able either  at  that  distance, 
Arabs  were  at  first  caught  un- 
awares, by  approaching  casu- 
ally within  long-range  rifle- 
fire  of  the  block-houses.  They 
gradually  bought  their  experi- 
ence. 

On  dark  nights  the  position 
was  entirely  reversed.  Despite 
the  vigilance  of  block-house 


sentries,  there  was  little  now  to 
prevent  cat-like  Arabs  crawling 
cautiously  up  to  the  wire  some- 
where near  a  salient,  distant 
perhaps  250  to  300  yards  from 
the  nearest  block-house.  After 
cutting  several  lower  strands 
of  wire,  and  creeping  within 
the  sacred  portals  of  the  defen- 
sive line,  they  were  free  to 
commit  considerable  thefts  in 
the  huge  area  thus  open  to 
them,  and  make  their  exit  in 
a  similar  manner  with  their 
booty.  By  this  time  the  Arabs 
were  well  supplied  with  wire- 
cutters,  picked  up  on  battle- 
fields and  elsewhere ;  and  it 
was  comparatively  easy  for 
these  determined  men  to  elude 
the  occasional  patrols  between 
one  block-house  and  the  next, 
and  to  get  clear  away  before 
daylight.  Indeed,  on  several 
occasions  these  sportsmen  ab- 
stracted camels  and  mules,  as 
well  as  rifles,  through  the  barbed 
wire  fencing  by  night.  They 
performed  their  job  neatly. 
No  half -measures  on  such  trips, 
for  they  boldly  cut  away  an 
entire  bay  of  barbed  wire  be- 
tween two  posts  supporting 
it,  spaced  some  15  ft.  apart. 
Through  the  wide  gap  thus 
created  they  just  led  the  ani- 
mals, mounted  them  the  other 
side,  and  disappeared  into  the 
darkness.  One  waggish  party, 
presumably  to  show  their  con- 
tempt, carefully  replaced  the 
bay  before  taking  their  de- 
parture. The  horizontals  and 
aprons  of  wire  had  all  been 
cut  near  one  post,  and  swung 
back  to  permit  of  the  exit  of 
the  animals,  and  then  roughly 


498 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


done  up  again.  The  joke  was 
easily  detected  when  the  block- 
house garrisons  made  the  usual 
inspection  of  their  rays  of 
fencing  next  morning. 

But  in  reality  these  nocturnal 
depredations  were  by  no  means 
a  laughing  matter,  though  one 
could  not  help  appreciating  the 
cool  courage  of  the  marau- 
ders. If  the  barbed-wire  fenc- 
ing was  to  be  a  real  protection 
to  the  railway  in  rear,  and  the 
various  scattered  camps  and 
depots  existing  between  it  and 
the  river  Tigris  away  to  the 
north,  the  block  -  house  line 
must  be  rendered  tolerably 
inviolate.  Hence,  additional 
devices  were  brought  into  use 
to  aid  the  block-house  garri- 
sons in  their  anxious  tasks  by 
night.  Spring-guns  were  tried. 
These  were  set  up  in  the 
barbed-wire  enclosure  surround- 
ing each  block-house,  and  fixed 
about  18  inches  above  ground- 
level.  They  were  aimed  to 
sweep  the  entire  length  of  the 
barbed-wire  ray  from  block- 
house to  salient.  A  thin  plain 
wire  ran  from  the  hair-trigger 
to  the  salient,  and  was  held 
up  at  intervals  by  wire  depend- 
ing from  the  outer  apron  of 
the  fence.  The  theory  was 
that  any  one  attempting  to 
crawl  through  the  entangle- 
ment would  immediately  jerk 
the  wire  connected  with  the 
rifle,  and  receive  a  bullet  in 
his  body  for  his  trouble  before 
he  could  say  "  Knife  !  "  But 
this  device  did  not  prove  al- 
together a  success,  though  I 
believe  one  or  two  pi-dogs  had 
some  hair-raising  escapes,  and 


created    alarms    whilst    nosing 
about  the  fence. 

At  length  a  genius  evolved 
a  home-made  microphone  out 
of  a  discarded  jam  tin  and  a 
spiral  of  wire  wound  by  him 
originally  round  a  pencil.    The 
spiral  was  let  into  the  jam  tin 
by  a  small  hole  in  the  centre 
of  the  bottom,  and  the  straight 
end    outside    connected    with 
thin    plain    wire,    which,    like 
that   of   the   spring  -  gun,   ran 
the  entire  length   of  the  ray 
from    block-house    to    salient. 
Any  tampering  with  the  barbed- 
wire  entanglement  caused  vio- 
lent vibrations   to   take  place 
within  the  jam  tin,  and  thus 
warned  the  listener  that  there 
was  dirty  work  going  on  some- 
where in  that  length  of  fencing. 
There   were   always   two   sen- 
tries on  duty  by  night  in  the 
block-house,  each  being  respon- 
sible for  one  length  of  fence 
radiating  from  the  block-house. 
Each  block-house  was  therefore 
supplied  with  two  microphones, 
set  up  in  the  parapet  close  to 
the  respective  sentry's  stand. 
That  more  or  less  fixed  up  the 
matter    of    information.      For 
action,     old     wooden     boxes, 
minus  their  tops,  were  firmly 
secured  into  the  parapet,  and 
their  ends  and  sides  grooved 
in  such  a  way  that  they  readily 
took,    and    held    in    position, 
the  long  -303  rifle.     This  was 
automatically  trained,  by  the 
fixed  position  of  the  box,  to 
sweep  the  ground  to  the  salient 
on    a   low   alignment   midway 
between  the  toe  of  the  outer 
apron   and   the   posts    of   the 
fencing.     All   the   sentry   had 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


499 


to  do  at  night,  then,  if  he 
judged  the  microphone  had 
spotted  somebody  or  some- 
thing along  his  special  length 
of  fence,  was  to  put  his  rifle 
rapidly  into  the  grooved  box 
and  pull  the  trigger.  The 
bullet  did  the  rest.  If  it 
didn't  down  the  intruder,  it 
would  give  him  the  fright  of 
his  life,  in  missing  him  by 
only  a  hair's-breadth  whilst 
he  was  entangled  in  the  wire 
a  couple  of  hundred  yards  or 
so  from  the  block-house. 

Soon  after  we  had  got  these 
primitive  aids  to  nature  set 
going  along  the  block-house 
line,  and  around  the  great 
depot  at  Shaikh  Sa'ad,  I  was 
anxious  to  ascertain  what  suc- 
cess was  attending  our  efforts 
to  keep  Arab  thieves  at  bay 
near  the  front.  On  this  par- 
ticular occasion  I  was  in- 
specting the  Shaikh  Sa'ad  de- 
fences, organised  on  the  lines 
sketched  above  by  means  of 
block-houses  and  wire-fencing 
several  miles  in  length.  These 
enclosed  a  great  bend  of  the 
river,  within  which  area  the 
advanced  base  had  now  as- 
sumed imposing  proportions. 
The  colonel  of  the  unit  which 
was  responsible  for  the  defence 
of  the  Shaikh  Sa'ad  perimeter 
waxed  enthusiastic  over  the 
arrangements  devised,  so  I 
asked  for  further  details  of  his 
successes.  I  was  not  a  little 
amused  to  receive  the  reply, 
"  Well,  sir,  during  the  last 
week  we  have  bagged  a  Buddoo, 
a  jackal,  and  an  owl,  thanks  to 
the  microphone  and  rifle-rests." 
To  this  day  I  have  failed  to 


fathom  why  an  owl  should 
have  been  fool  enough  to  mix 
himself  up  with  a  barbed-wire 
entanglement  in  the  dark.  He 
could  hardly  have  expected  to 
find  mice  playing  about  on  it. 
On  the  whole,  we  had  to 
rest  satisfied  with  home  manu- 
factured articles,  for  "  Mespot  " 
was  ever  starved  in  the  matter 
of  mechanical  contrivances,  so 
we  did  the  best  we  could  with 
rough  materials  at  hand.  The 
Arab  had  now  been  largely 
scotched  along  the  railway 
area  ;  but  he  still  managed  at 
intervals  to  perpetrate  daring 
thefts  by  penetrating  the  block- 
house line.  This  before  long 
had  reached  a  distance  of  25 
miles  from  Shaikh  Sa'ad  ;  and 
at  the  time  of  the  recapture 
of  Kut  in  February  1917  the 
railway  and  block-houses  had 
been  extended  another  5  or 
6  miles  to  the  Hai,  as  soon 
as  the  Turk  had  been  expelled 
from  his  bridgehead  on  that 
river.  It  was  inevitable  on  so 
long  a  route  that  numerous  ir- 
rigation channels,  leading  from 
the  Tigris  into  the  interior, 
should  have  to  be  crossed  both 
by  the  railway  and  block- 
house line.  These  were  the 
weak  points  in  the  defensive 
line,  for  it  was  not  always 
possible  to  sweep  with  fire  the 
bottoms  of  these  channels  from 
the  block-houses,  and  the  vital 
necessity  of  economising  troops 
prohibited  the  employment  of 
further  detachments  to  watch 
them  by  night.  This  dead 
ground  in  the  vicinity  of  block- 
houses proved,  therefore,  a 
troublesome  factor,  for  the  Arab 


500 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


was  quick  to  detect  any  weak- 
ness in  our  lineal  defences. 
Ultimately  we  resorted  to  plac- 
ing hidden  bombs,  ready  to  go 
off  at  the  slightest  touch,  amid 
the  tangle  of  barbed  wire  in 
these  depressions.  But  it  was 
a  tricky  business,  and  I  was 
always  expecting  to  hear  of 
some  of  my  command  being 
hoist  by  their  own  petard, 
despite  the  work  being  en- 
trusted to  bombing  specialists 
alone.  Happily,  we  suffered 
no  serious  accidents  in  this 
connection,  but  I  cannot  truth- 
fully say  that  the  Arab  suffered 
many  casualties  either.  The 
beggars  must  have  smelt  these 
bombs  in  the  dark,  and  avoided 
them  like  the  plague.  He's  no 
fool  is  the  Arab  thief,  and  does 
not  often  make  mistakes.  So 
he  ceased  for  a  time  from 
troubling  near  the  front,  and 
the  weary  obtained  some  rest 
from  his  nocturnal  attentions. 
A  jackal  or  two,  though,  bit 
the  dust  at  the  hands  of  these 
bombs.  There  was  not  much 
left  of  such  explorers  after 
close  contact  with  a  Mill's 
bomb.  They  were  unable  there- 
fore to  warn  their  friends,  and 
we  scarcely  got  our  money's 
worth  for  expenditure  of  bomb, 
one,  Mill's,  per  "  jack." 

For  a  while  we  flattered  our- 
selves the  Arab  was  up  against 
something  that  caused  him  to 
scratch  his  head  and  think  a 
bit.  But  when  the  crossing 
of  the  Tigris  at  Shamran  was 
so  gallantly  accomplished,  and 
the  Turk  in  full  flight  towards 
Baghdad,  hotly  pursued  by  the 
victorious  army,  the  difficulties 


of  those  left  behind  to  clear 
up  the  hundreds  of  dumps, 
small  and  large,  scattered  over 
miles  of  country  on  both  banks 
of  the  river  about  Kut,  con- 
stituted no  joy-ride.  It  was 
scarcely  realised  by  G.H.Q.  in 
the  hurry  of  framing  orders 
for,  and  carrying  out,  the  pur- 
suit, what  immense  quantities 
of  stuff  required  collecting  and 
transporting  to  places  of  safety 
on  the  river  banks  from  far 
afield.  Consequently,  inade- 
quate arrangements  were  made 
for  the  performance  of  this  big 
task,  which  occupied  several 
weeks.  Thus  numerous  oppor- 
tunities were  presented  to  large 
bodies  of  well  -  armed  Arab 
marauders  from  Hai  town  and 
the  surrounding  country  to  load 
themselves  heavily  with  Turkish 
rifles,  ammunition,  and  many 
other  articles  of  a  lethal  nature. 
These  had  been  abandoned,  or 
left  but  weakly  guarded,  out- 
side the  zone  between  Shaikh 
Sa'ad  and  the  Hai  river  covered 
by  the  block-house  line  on  the 
right  bank.  Small  isolated 
parties  of  our  troops  in  the 
exposed  area  had  an  anxious 
time  of  it,  perched  in  the  blue 
alongside  numerous  artillery 
and  other  dumps,  surrounded 
as  they  were  by  hordes  of 
Arabs  bent  on  securing  loot 
of  any  description. 

The  British  were  indubitably 
top-dogs  now,  as  the  Turk  was 
on  the  run  ;  but  in  the  state 
of  confusion  existing  in  rear, 
due  to  the  rapid  advance  of 
our  troops  from  the  trenches 
and  positions  held  by  them — 
in  some  cases  for  close  on  a 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


501 


year — the  Arab  cared  little  who 
had  been  worsted  so  long  as  he 
derived  benefit  from  what  had 
been  left  behind.  The  entire 
country  around  Kut,  on  both 
banks  of  the  river,  had  for 
the  past  two  years  been  in  a 
thoroughly  disturbed  state,  so 
it  was  some  time  before  the 
Arab  realised  that  the  Turk 
was  gone  for  good,  and  it  was 
possible  for  the  British  to  re- 
store tranquillity  and  order  in 
that  turbulent  district.  Con- 
sequently, the  gradual  location 
and  collection  of  the  scattered 
dumps  to  newly-formed  defen- 
sive posts  on  the  Tigris,  by 
the  small  numbers  detailed  for 
this  purpose,  was  a  harassing 
business,  and  it  is  surprising 
that  no  serious  losses  in  per- 
sonnel resulted. 

At  length,  when  all  the 
dumps  on  the  right  bank  had 
been  conveyed  to  safety,  orders 
were  issued  for  rolling  up  the 
railway  and  block-house  line 
from  the  Hai  to  Shaikh  Sa'ad. 
Then  the  fun  increased.  The 
Arabs  quickly  perceived  what 
was  afoot,  and  before  long  it 
was  computed  that  1500  to 
2000  horsemen  were  out  to 
gather  in  all  they  could  during 
the  process.  But  we  were 
prepared  for  this ;  and  the 
orders  I  gave  to  the  officer 
entrusted  with  the  task  were 
to  the  effect  that,  when  the 
existing  Hai  river  line  between 
the  railway  terminus  on  that 
stream  and  the  Tigris  was 
abandoned,  fresh  rearward 
northern  fronts  must  be  estab- 
lished every  few  days  between 
the  railway  and  the  Tigris, 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXH. 


in  order  to  prevent  the  Arabs 
getting  round  behind  whilst 
the  railway  and  block-houses 
were  demolished  section  by 
section  from  the  front.  The 
work  was  rapidly  and  effi- 
ciently carried  out,  and  the 
Arabs  failed  to  break  in  any- 
where along  the  new  northerly 
fronts,  which  were  sometimes 
close  on  8  miles  in  length 
between  the  varying  terminals 
of  the  block-house  line  and 
the  Tigris.  A  force  of  all  arms 
from  the  line  of  communica- 
tion troops  was  placed  at  the 
disposal  of  the  officer,  and  the 
guns  and  cavalry  found  plenty 
of  scope  for  dispersing  the 
more  threatening  bands  of  ma- 
rauders. These  derived  little 
from  their  temerity ;  for  all 
rails,  sleepers,  timber,  barbed 
wire,  wooden  posts,  corrugated 
iron,  &c.,  utilised  for  the  30 
odd  miles  of  railway  and  block- 
house line,  were  continuously 
loaded  up  on  trains  and  con- 
veyed back  to  the  shelter  of 
the  Shaikh  Sa'ad  perimeter  as 
the  work  of  demolition  pro- 
gressed. Nothing  of  use  was 
left  behind.  It  was  a  fine  piece 
of  work,  reflecting  the  greatest 
credit  on  all  concerned.  The 
entire  line  was  soon  safely 
rolled  up  to  Shaikh  Sa'ad.  Not 
a  rifle  or  horse  was  lost ;  and 
the  officer  in  charge  of  the 
operation  was  deservedly  re- 
warded in  the  next  Honours 
List  published. 

During  the  subsequent  cam- 
paigns of  the  British  in  Meso- 
potamia, up  to  the  time  of  the 
Armistice,  comparatively  little 
trouble  was  experienced  at  the 
T  2 


502 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


hands  of  Arab  marauders  in 
the  northern  course  of  the 
Tigris.  Apart  from  the  sober- 
ing effect  the  capture  of  Bagh- 
dad had  on  the  inhabitants  of 
that  region,  I  should  judge 
that  the  Arabs  of  those  dis- 
tricts are  neither  such  per- 
sistent nor  such  skilled  rifle 
thieves  as  those  south  of  Kut. 
At  all  events,  I  have  visited 
corps  headquarters  and  brigade 
camps,  away  to  the  north  of 


Baghdad,  which,  had  they  been 
similarly  protected  in  the  Ama- 
rah  area,  for  example,  would 
soon  have  been  cleared  out  of 
all  they  contained.  Still,  rifle 
thieves  are  not  entirely  inactive 
thereabouts,  as  I  learnt  from 
experience  when  in  command 
of  the  huge  Assyrian  Eefugee 
Camp  at  Baqubah,  on  the 
Diala  river  north-north-east  of 
Baghdad,  from  October  1918 
to  June  1919. 


n. 


In  the  previous  chapter  I 
have  endeavoured  to  portray 
conditions  imposed  on  us, 
largely  by  reason  of  the  activ- 
ity of  Arab  marauders,  in  the 
forward  areas  about  Kut.  Mat- 
ters along  the  Tigris  line  of 
communication  were  not  one 
whit  better,  with  respect  to 
rifle  thieving  by  gentry  of  the 
same  kidney.  In  point  of  fact, 
the  country  round  Amarah — 
130  miles  up-stream  of  Basrah, 
and  roughly  midway  between 
Basrah  and  Kut — continued  to 
be  a  happy  hunting-ground  for 
rifle  thieves  long  after  Baghdad 
was  captured  by  the  British. 
Despite  the  entire  500  miles  of 
river  line  between  Basrah  and 
Baghdad  being  ultimately  held 
by  a  series  of  marching-posts 
and  mobile  column  centres, 
one  was  never  free  in  the 
Amarah  area  from  the  per- 
sistent attempts  of  Arabs  to 
secure  rifles  during  1916,  1917, 
and  1918. 

A    combination    of    uncon- 
trollable    circumstances     was 


chiefly  responsible  for  this  cen- 
tre being  the  permanent  resort 
of  Arabs  of  bad  character. 
In  the  first  place,  vast  areas 
of  swamp  on  both  banks  of  the 
river  afforded  secure  retreats, 
inaccessible  to  us  but  close 
at  hand,  whither  ill  -  gotten 
booty  could  be  speedily  re- 
moved by  the  thieves.  The 
district  was  divided  into  num- 
erous inextricably  mixed  -  up 
estates,  each  ruled  over  by  a 
separate  shaikh ;  and  it  was 
wellnigh  impossible,  therefore, 
to  hold  any  particular  chieftain 
responsible  for  the  various 
thefts  committed.  When  a 
thief  was  caught  red-handed, 
or  killed  in  his  attempt  to 
steal,  no  Arab  could  be  found 
to  recognise  the  culprit  or 
corpse  as  having  dwelt  on  any 
neighbouring  estate.  He,  or  it, 
was  always  a  profound  stranger 
to  all  the  shaikhs  around,  who 
would  piously  protest  that  the 
"  vile  miscreant  "  must  have 
come  from  some  remote  region 
of  the  Hai  or  Euphrates.  No 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


503 


one  had  ever  seen  him  before. 
The  daring  rogue  had  appa- 
rently never  partaken  of  food 
or  hospitality  in  any  of  the 
adjacent  villages  or  encamp- 
ments during  his  sojourn  in 
the  Amarah  district.  He  had 
come,  and  been  taken,  like  the 
thief  he  was,  in  the  night. 
They  were  certainly  loyal  to 
each  other,  these  fluent  liars, 
and  never  gave  each  other 
away.  Even  when  a  captured 
thief  was  tried,  convicted,  and 
condemned  to  be  hanged,  no 
outward  regret  was  expressed 
by  any  one.  No  friend  or 
relative  ever  asked  permission 
to  console  him  during  his  last 
days  on  earth  ;  nor  would  the 
condemned  man  disclose  any- 
thing about  himself  or  his 
accomplices. 

The  gallows,  in  the  hot 
weather  of  1916,  was  erected 
in  the  then  open  square  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  river,  at  the 
north-west  corner  of  Amarah 
town.  The  inhabitants  were 
summoned  to  witness  such  exe- 
cutions, which,  it  was  hoped, 
would  serve  as  a  deterrent  to 
potential  rifle  thieves  present. 
Probably  the  most  unconcerned 
individual  of  the  whole  throng 
in  the  grim  drama  was  the 
chief  actor  in  it.  He  was  seem- 
ingly far  less  affected  than  his 
escort  of  sepoys  and  the  exe- 
cutioner, and  never  displayed 
the  least  emotion  when  ordered 
to  ascend  the  scaffold,  or  during 
the  adjustment  of  the  noose. 
Kismet,  his  fate  had  been 
thus  ordained.  A  few  seconds 
later  his  soul  had  fled,  and 
Amarah  was  rid  of  one  more 


rifle  thief.  But  plenty  of  others 
continued  to  embark  on  the 
perilous  adventure  during  the 
ensuing  years. 

The  hot  weather  and  autumn 
succeeding  the  fall  of  Kut  was, 
perhaps,  when  Amarah  was 
least  well  prepared  to  deal  with 
rifle  thieves.  Turkish  emis- 
saries frequently  gained  admis- 
sion to  this  populous  district 
on  the  Tigris,  by  various  routes 
and  in  skilful  disguises  ;  and 
the  inhabitants  were  led  to 
believe,  therefore,  that  the  Turk 
would  soon  be  returning  in 
overwhelming  strength,  now 
that  Townshend  and  his  force 
had  been  removed  from  Kut. 
Then,  woe  betide  any  Arab 
shaikh  who  had  afforded  as- 
sistance to  the  British  during 
their  temporary  occupation  of 
this  region.  Consequently,  the 
general  attitude  of  the  bigger 
men  was  a  strictly  non-com- 
mital  one  ;  and  those  living  in 
and  about  Amarah  spent  the 
languid  hours  of  the  tedious 
days  smoking  cigarettes  and 
drinking  coffee  in  the  numerous 
cafe's  of  the  bazaar  and  on  the 
river  front,  and  took  no  part 
in  the  invading  army's  acti- 
vities in  this  rapidly-expanding 
emporium. 

Next  to  the  growth  of  Basrah 
at  this  time,  that  of  Amarah 
easily  ranked  second  along  the 
Tigris.  Great  hospitals,  British 
and  Indian,  were  formed  for 
the  reception  and  treatment  of 
6000  sick  and  wounded.  Large 
British  and  Indian  convalescent 
depots  likewise  came  into  being. 
Sites  had  to  be  provided  for 
important  river-steamer  work- 


504 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


shops,  electric  -  light  installa- 
tions, ice  factories,  and  a  rail- 
way terminus  for  the  Basrah- 
Amarah  metre-gauge  railway, 
then  in  course  of  construction. 
Those  responsible  for  the  forma- 
tion of  coal  and  oil  depots,  huge 
supply  dumps,  ordnance  yards, 
remount  depots,  large  trans- 
port lines,  and  dozens  of  re- 
quirements besides,  clamoured 
for  accommodation  along  the 
banks  of  the  river.  And  every 
one  desired  protection  from 
active  Arab  thieves. 

The  existing  defence  arrange- 
ments at  Amarah  were  dis- 
tinctly out  of  date  in  the  early 
days  of  the  hot  weather  of 
1916 ;  but  it  was  futile  to  em- 
bark on  final  schemes  until  the 
complete  requirements  there 
were  approximately  decided 
upon  by  G.H.Q.  This,  natur- 
ally, could  not  be  settled  in  a 
day,  a  week,  or  a  month, 
owing  to  the  ever-changing 
conditions ;  and  it  may  be 
imagined,  therefore,  that  a 
pretty  lively  interchange  of 
compliments  between  sentries 
and  rifle  thieves  occurred  mean- 
while, almost  nightly.  Often 
on  oppressive  evenings,  whilst 
seated  after  dinner  with  my 
staff  on  the  roof  of  Tigris 
Defences  Headquarters,  would 
we  be  treated  to  the  sound 
of  regular  fusilades  on  the 
right  bank  amid  the  palm 
groves  immediately  facing  us. 
Many  thieves  got  away  with 
their  booty  in  those  days,  a 
few  were  killed  outright,  and 
others  captured  and  subse- 
quently hanged  ;  but  our  troops 
did  not  always  emerge  scot- 


free,  for  several  were  knifed 
or  wounded  by  pistols  at  this 
period.  Indeed,  one  poor  Brit- 
ish N.C.O.,  attached  to  the 
Officers'  Convalescent  Depot 
amid  the  palms,  was  discov- 
ered lying  dead  on  a  charpoy 
one  morning  with  his  throat 
cut.  Finding  the  heat  of  his 
hut  unbearable  that  night,  he 
had  dragged  his  native  bed- 
stead out  into  the  open  along- 
side his  quarters,  and  was 
presumably  murdered  whilst 
asleep  by  some  Arab  assassins. 
Sleeping  in  the  open,  except 
on  the  roof  of  a  house,  lost 
many  of  its  attractions  there- 
after. 

Amarah,  too,  was  an  import- 
ant halting-place  for  numerous 
Echelons  of  all  arms  moving 
up  by  road  from  Basrah  to  the 
forward  areas  ;  and  it  gradu- 
ally developed  also  into  one  of 
the  main  training  centres  in 
Mesopotamia.  Here  were  esta- 
blished a  machine-gun  school, 
bombing  classes,  rifle  -  ranges, 
physical-training  and  bayonet- 
exercise  classes,  and  other  in- 
stitutions for  the  purpose  of 
instruction.  Additional  oppor- 
tunities were  thus  afforded  to 
rifle  thieves  for  carrying  on 
their  nefarious  trade  ;  and  the 
sound  of  musketry  -  fire  by 
sentries  at  night  on  both  banks 
of  the  river  grew  in  volume. 
The  British  division  at  the 
front  began  to  arrive  at  Ama- 
rah from  Shaikh  Sa'ad  early 
in  September  1916,  for  two 
months'  intensive  training,  on 
the  expiry  of  which  they  were 
to  take  part  in  General  Maude's 
projected  offensive  against  the 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


505 


Turks.  They  were  followed 
the  whole  way  down  by  gangs 
of  rifle  thieves,  and  few  Eche- 
lons of  the  division  could  boast 
that  they  had  not  lost  rifles 
during  their  100-mile  march 
down-stream.  The  efforts  of 
these  thieves  were  persisted 
in,  practically  without  cessa- 
tion, throughout  the  period 
the  division  was  in  standing 
camp  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Tigris  a  couple  of  miles  or  so 
above  Amarah  town.  One 
medical  officer  was  killed  by 
a  bullet  whilst  in  bed,  and 
several  men  were  wounded  by 
thieves  whilst  endeavouring  to 
capture  these  elusive  pests  in 
their  midst.  What  the  total 
losses  suffered  by  the  division 
in  rifles  were  I  am  unable  to 
state  ;  but  it  is  quite  certain 
that  these,  combined  with  the 
wear  and  tear  on  the  sentries' 
nerves  at  night,  were  not  in- 
appreciable. 

In  course  of  time  the  theft 
of  rifles  in  Iraq  became  such  a 
serious  matter  that  stringent 
orders  were  issued  by  G.H.Q. 
on  the  subject.  If  the  Court 
of  Inquiry  were  of  opinion 
the  man  robbed  had  been 
guilty  of  carelessness  regarding 
the  safety  of  his  rifle,  he  not 
only  had  to  pay  the  value  of 
the  weapon — Es.  58 — but  was 
to  be  tried  by  court  -  martial. 
Every  man  who  lost  his  rifle 
was  fined  the  Es.  58,  whether 
he  was  careless  or  not,  unless 
there  were  peculiarly  extenuat- 
ing circumstances,  which  was 
rarely  admitted.  It  was  about 
time,  for  the  casual  disregard 
by  some  individuala  of  the 


warnings  issued  at  Basrah  to 
new-comers  in  the  country  of 
the  prevalence  of  rifle  thieving 
was  little  less  than  criminal. 
For  the  first  few  marches  out 
of  Basrah  all  would  probably 
go  quite  well.  Not  the  sign 
of  a  rifle  thief  would  disturb 
the  serenity  of  the  night's 
rest  aftes^a  tiring  march,  im- 
mediately following,  perhaps, 
weeks  on  board  ship.  Im- 
munity so  far  would  possibly 
lead  to  contempt,  and  vigilance 
would  gradually  become  re- 
laxed day  by  day  on  the  march 
up-country.  Then,  hey,  presto ! 
the  e'chelon  wakes  one  morning 
to  learn  that  ten  or  a  dozen 
of  the  men  are  unable  to  find 
their  rifles  in  their  respective 
tents.  Nor  will  they  ever  find 
them  elsewhere,  for  they  are 
gone  for  good  by  now,  secreted 
probably  in  a  bettum  or  dug-out 
canoe  sheltering  amidst  the 
cane  and  reeds  of  the  adjacent 
swamp  country,  and  quite  in- 
accessible to  the  disillusioned 
troops. 

It  was  an  oft-repeated  story, 
and  truth  compels  the  state- 
ment that  by  far  the  greater 
percentage  of  those  victimised 
were  British  troops,  generally 
those  newly  landed  from  over- 
seas. Eifle  thieves  were  a 
novel  experience  to  these  raw 
recruits,  who  were  easily  out- 
witted by  the  cunning  Arab. 
The  Indian  sepoy,  especially 
those  who  had  spent  much  of 
their  service  in  the  Punjab  and 
along  the  North  -  west  Fron- 
tier, had  been  initiated  into 
the  wiles  of  Pathan  rifle  thieves, 
probably  from  the  first  day 


506 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


they  joined  their  units.  They 
were  accustomed  therefore  to 
be  ever  on  the  alert,  and  never 
to  omit  precautionary  measures 
ensuring  the  safety  of  their 
valued  rifles  by  day  or  night. 
But  they  too  were  frequently 
robbed. 

It  was  comparatively  seldom 
that  the  Arabs  resorted  to 
violence  in  order  to  obtain 
rifles.  In  the  large  majority 
of  cases  the  sleeper  was  not 
awakened  by  forcible  efforts 
on  part  of  the  thief  to  detach 
a  rifle  secured  by  its  sling,  or 
fastened  by  other  means,  to 
the  person  of  the  unconscious 
slumberer.  Much  experience 
and  knowledge  of  the  subject 
led  these  Arabs  to  recognise, 
almost  unerringly,  which  rifles 
could  be  safely  abstracted  with- 
out arousing  their  owners,  and 
which  had  better  be  left  severe- 
ly alone.  The  last  thing  they 
desired  on  such  occasions  was 
to  raise  an  alarm  in  camp, 
for  this  would  inevitably  mili- 
tate against  their  silent  with- 
drawal with  their  booty  from 
the  various  tents,  and  an  un- 
observed exit  from  the  camp 
through  the  surrounding  line 
of  sentries.  Still,  there  were 
exceptions  to  the  general  rule, 
and  sentries  were  occasionally 
shot  by  rifle  thieves,  and  men 
knifed  in  their  tents  if  they 
awoke  suddenly  and  attempted 
to  seize  an  unusually  clumsy 
performer,  who  had,  perchance, 
bungled  his  job  and  aroused 
the  peaceful  slumberer. 

There  is  no  doubt  these 
nocturnal  visitations,  when  at 
their  worst,  constituted  a  de- 


cided strain  on  the  faculties  of 
sentries,  and  on  the  peace  of 
mind  generally  of  conscientious 
men  who  were  anxious  about 
the  safety  of  their  arms,  and 
were  supposed  to  find  rest  at 
night  under  the  sheltering  care 
of  those  sentries.  Something 
had  to  be  done,  therefore,  to 
reduce  the  risks  to  a  minimum. 
Hence,  not  only  was  the  garri- 
son of  every  marching-post  and 
mobile  column  centre  on  the 
line  of  communication  se- 
curely ensconced  behind  para- 
pet walls  and  barbed-wire  en- 
closure flanked  therefrom,  but 
the  areas  immediately  adjoin- 
ing them,  set  aside  for  the 
use  of  marching  Echelons,  were 
likewise  surrounded  by  stout 
barbed- wire  fencing,  flanked  to 
a  large  extent  from  the  per- 
manently occupied  post. 

In  the  earlier  portion  of  this 
article  I  have  referred  to  the 
Shaikh  Sa'ad  defensive  peri- 
meter of  block  -  houses  and 
barbed  wire  being  several  miles 
in  length — 3|  to  be  exact ;  but 
that  was  a  simple  proposition 
compared  with  the  problem  of 
dealing  with  Arab  thieves  in 
the  now  greatly  expanded 
Amarah  area.  This  was  not 
only  due  to  the  more  active 
efforts  of  rifle  thieves  in  the 
Amarah  district,  for  the  reasons 
already  given,  but  the  eccen- 
tricities of  the  Tigris  here- 
abouts enhanced  the  difficulties 
of  the  situation.  The  town  of 
Amarah  is  situated  on  the  east 
or  left  bank  of  the  Tigris,  and 
contained  a  population  of  some 
15,000  souls,  dwelling  chiefly  in 
sun-dried  brick  houses.  For 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


507 


several  miles  above  the  town 
the  Tigris  flows  in  an  easterly 
direction,  but  swings  sharply 
to  the  south  immediately  above 
the  town  ;  whilst  an  important 
branch  of  the  Tigris,  known  as 
the  Chahalah,  which  carries 
almost  as  big  a  volume  of 
water  as  the  main  stream, 
flows  out  of  the  river  in  an 
easterly  direction  at  this  bend. 
Little  over  a  mile  down-stream 
the  Chahalah  divides  into  two, 
the  more  northern  offtake, 
termed  the  Masharreh  Canal, 
still  continuing  in  an  easterly 
direction,  and  the  main  branch 
turning  away  to  the  south-east. 
Both  empty  themselves  ulti- 
mately into  large  expanses  of 
marsh,  the  abode  of  amphibious 
marsh  Arabs. 

Here,  then,  were  four  con- 
siderable waterways  penetrat- 
ing the  required  defensive  area 
around  Amarah — i.e.,  the  Tigris 
above  the  town ;  the  Tigris 
alongside  and  below  the  town  ; 
and  the  Chahalah  and  Mas- 
harreh Canals.  In  order  to 
prevent  entrance  to  Arab  rifle 
thieves,  the  defensive  line  of 
barbed  wire  and  block-houses 
had,  consequently,  to  be  divided 
into  four  sections.  The  great 
angle  of  the  Tigris  on  the  right 
bank  was  enclosed  to  form  one 
section,  within  which  were  the 
railway  terminus,  huge  supply 
yards,  various  British  and  In- 
dian hospitals,  convalescent  de- 
pots, inland  water  transport 
repair  shops,  and  so  on,  not 
forgetting  the  Amarah  race- 
course and  polo-ground.  The 
area  between  the  left  bank  of 
the  Tigris  and  the  right  bank 


of  the  Chahalah  comprised  the 
second  section,  and  enclosed 
the  whole  town  of  Amarah,  and 
a  large  area  of  brickfields  and 
kilns  to  the  south  of  it,  utilised 
for  the  original  construction  of 
the  town.  The  third  section, 
between  the  left  bank  of  the 
Chahalah  and  right  bank  of 
the  Masharreh,  enclosed  animal 
transport  lines,  isolation  hos- 
pitals for  infectious  cases,  &c.  ; 
whilst  the  fourth  section,  en- 
closing remount  and  mechani- 
cal transport  depots,  dairy, 
additional  supply  yards,  Eche- 
lon camps,  &c.,  extended  from 
the  left  bank  of  the  Masharreh 
to  a  point  on  the  left  bank  of 
the  Tigris  opposite  the  river 
redoubt  of  the  right  bank 
perimeter — about  1|  miles  up- 
stream of  the  Chahalah-Tigris 
parting.  In  all  we  were  com- 
mitted to  the  nightly  occupa- 
tion of  some  8  miles  of  block- 
houses and  barbed-wire  fencing 
round  Amarah,  mainly  with  a 
view  to  frustrating  the  inces- 
sant designs  of  Arab  rifle  thieves. 
And  I  for  one  most  cordially 
wished  these  persistent  rogues 
at  Jericho,  and  further,  as  the 
demands  on  the  line  of  com- 
munication garrison  and  mobile 
column  here  admitted  of  the 
troops  having  only  a  very  few 
nights  in  bed. 

Thereafter  the  activities  of 
rifle  thieves  were  considerably 
restricted,  but  by  no  means 
entirely  quashed  ;  for  the  wide 
waterways  still  afforded  means 
for  these  gentry  to  float  silently 
down-stream  in  their  bellums 
on  dark  boisterous  nights,  land 
at  isolated  spots  on  one  bank 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


or  another,  perpetrate  various 
thefts,  remove  their  limited 
booty  to  their  bellums,  and  to 
continue  down- stream  through 
the  southern  limits  of  the  de- 
fensive area,  and  so  clear  away. 
The  only  way  in  which  to  deal 
efficiently  with  this  manreuvre 
would  have  been  to  employ 
river  police,  constantly  patrol- 
ling in  swift  motor-launches 
at  night ;  but  it  was  not  found 
expedient  to  place  such  addi- 
tional requirements  at  my  dis- 
posal. 

Hence,  troops  camped  within 
the  various  defence  sections 
were  still  compelled  to  observe 
every  precaution  by  night  re- 
garding the  safety  of  rifles, 
despite  the  protection  afforded 
by  the  outer  block-house  line. 
The  troops  of  the  garrison 
therefore  generally  dug  pits 
in  their  tents,  into  which  the 
rifles  of  those  not  on  duty  were 
placed  at  night.  The  pits  were 
covered  with  a  few  boards, 
several  men  spread  their  bed- 
ding over  these,  and  slept 
serenely  with  the  firearms  of 
their  section  safely  tucked  away 
beneath  them.  No  rifle  thief 
had  the  temerity  to  endeavour 
to  roll  over  two  or  three  sturdy 
Tommies  or  sepoys  while  asleep 
in  order  to  disinter  the  rifles. 
That  defeated  them. 

This  precaution  could  hardly 
be  observed  by  troops  on  the 
march,  but  rifle  thefts  could 
largely  be  reduced  if  men  took 
the  trouble  to  secure  their 
rifles  to  their  persons,  abstracted 
the  bolts,  and  placed  these  in 
their  trouser  -  pockets  before 
turning  in  to  sleep.  A  rifle 


without  its  bolt  would  have 
been  about  as  much  use  to  an 
Arab  as  a  sick  headache,  and 
he  was  rarely  fool  enough  to 
steal  a  rifle  thus  deprived  of 
its  most  essential  part.  Yet 
this  simple  precaution  was  fre- 
quently disregarded,  and  new- 
ly-arrived marching  Echelons 
sometimes  appeared  to  think 
that  they  were  as  safe  as  houses 
whilst  ensconced  behind  the 
stout  barbed-wire  fencing  of 
the  block -house  line.  One 
light  -  hearted  party  of  Aus- 
tralasian signallers  went  one 
better  after  a  few  days'  halt  at 
Amarah.  The  yarn  about 
rifle  thieves  was,  of  course,  a 
pure  myth  to  them,  as  they 
had  experienced  no  difficulties 
in  this  respect  at  the  various 
wired-in  marching-posts  during 
their  march  from  Basrah.  The 
evening  before  they  were  to 
continue  their  journey  up-coun- 
try, being  anxious,  as  they 
subsequently  stated,  to  be  off 
at  cock-crow,  they  betook  them- 
selves and  their  waggons  outside 
the  defensive  perimeter,  and 
bivouacked  on  the  side  of  the 
road  just  without.  They  awoke 
next  morning  to  find  they  only 
possessed  six  rifles  between 
them,  out  of  the  seventeen  with 
which  they  had  retired  to  rest. 
Their  journey  was  peremptorily 
postponed  whilst  inquiries  were 
instituted.  More  haste  does 
sometimes  result  in  less  speed, 
and  they  were  wiser  and  sadder 
youths  afterwards. 

The  Arab  thieves  being  now 
somewhat  limited  in  their 
spheres  of  operations,  gradu- 
ally evolved  another  daring 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


509 


manoeuvre.  The  river  Tigris 
below  Qalat  Salih,  some  30 
odd  miles  down-stream  of  Ama- 
rah,  flows  through  a  winding 
channel  known  as  the  "  Nar- 
rows," which  abound  with  sharp 
turns  demanding  very  careful 
navigation  by  steamers,  as  the 
confined  stream  is  reduced  to 
a  width  of  only  40  or  50  yards 
in  places.  Generally  speaking, 
the  channel  is  deep  and  the 
mud-banks  firm,  though  large 
areas  of  swamp  exist  on  both 
banks  and  a  few  yards  distant 
only  from  the  river  in  some 
parts.  The  "  Narrows  "  are 
about  25  miles  in  length,  and 
down  this  portion  of  the  river 
(almost  as  far  as  Ezra's  Tomb) 
the  larger  steamers,  with  barges 
attached  on  either  side,  would 
gracefully  cannon  from  one 
bank  to  the  other  at  the  more 
acute  bends  in  what  looked  a 
most  alarming  manner.  The 
marsh  Arabs  by  day  would 
cheerfully  run  alongside  the 
upgoing  steamers,  selling  eggs, 
fowls,  fish,  vegetables,  and  so 
on,  to  the  crowds  of  troops 
being  conveyed  north.  Barter- 
ing would  be  particularly  brisk 
whilst  these  steamers  tied  up 
to  the  bank  for  varying  periods 
in  order  to  permit  of  the  down- 
ward passage  of  steamers  boom- 
ing menacingly  along  with  the 
strong  current.  It  was  then, 
perhaps,  rapid  stock  was  taken 
of  what,  and  who,  were  aboard 
the  upward-bound  steamers 
and  their  attendant  barges, 
and  what  chances  of  loot  of- 
fered. By  night  the  Arabs 
took  to  jumping  on  board 
these  barges  when  they  bumped 


against  the  banks  in  the  "  Nar- 
rows "  ;  and  if  unobserved, 
they  would  silently  abstract 
rifles  from  the  troops  sleeping 
thereon,  and  leap  actively 
ashore  with  their  booty  at 
the  next  convenient  bump. 
If  detected,  they  never  hesi- 
tated to  spring  overboard,  even 
when  carrying  a  rifle  or  two, 
for  they  could  swim  like  fishes, 
and  were  just  as  much  at  home 
in  the  water  as  on  dry  land. 

They  were  enterprising 
rogues,  and  some  had  even 
the  temerity  to  leap  on  to 
gunboats  proceeding  up-stream, 
and  defying  the  vigilance  of 
the  naval  ratings,  pick  up  a 
rifle  or  other  desirable  object 
which  caught  their  fancy,  and 
disappear  overboard  with  it 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 
One  unfortunate  officer  had  a 
beautiful  set  of  false  teeth 
stolen  from  by  his  side  whilst 
sleeping  placidly  on  board  his 
ship,  and  had  to  live  on  what 
might  be  termed  "  pish-pash  " 
for  several  days  after  his  arrival 
at  Amarah,  whilst  the  local 
Army  dentists  fitted  him  out 
with  another  complete  set.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  learn 
what  form  of  gold  and  ivory 
ornament  the  thief  flattered 
himself  he  had  secured  for  his 
loving  wife  when  he  ultimately 
reached  home. 

Mention  should  be  made  also 
of  the  difficulties  experienced 
with  Arab  thieves  along  the 
light  railway  between  Qurnah 
and  Amarah.  This  was  con- 
structed along  the  right  bank 
of  the  Tigris,  and  almost 
throughout  its  length  skirted 


510 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


the  great  area  of  swamp  be- 
tween the  two  places.  The 
line  had  of  necessity  to  follow 
a  tortuous  course  near  the 
river  bank,  to  avoid  as  far  as 
possible  traversing  the  marshes 
which  impinged  on  the  river. 
Metalling  of  the  track  was  out 
of  the  question,  as  stone  for 
ballast  is  about  as  rare  as 
diamonds  of  the  purest  ray 
serene  in  this  region  of  Meso- 
potamia. Consequently  the 
trains  could  proceed  at  any- 
thing but  breakneck  speed 
along  the  earth  banks,  which 
were  in  constant  danger  of 
being  scoured  out  by  the  lap- 
ping of  the  marsh  waters  when 
stirred  by  strong  winds,  or  at 
times  of  heavy  flood.  Though 
up  to  that  date  the  marsh 
Arab  had  never  seen  a  railway 
or  train  in  his  life,  in  course  of 
time  he  became  familiarised 
with  the  puffing  monster  rum- 
bling through  his  former  peace- 
ful demesne.  Familiarity,  as 
usual,  bred  contempt ;  and 
when  he  grew  accustomed  to 
viewing  trucks  heavily  laden 
with  sacks  of  flour,  and  many 
of  the  requirements  of  a  field 
army,  proceeding  leisurely  up- 
country  at  certain  hours  of 
the  day  and  night,  he  began 
to  cogitate  how  he  might  pos- 
sess himself  of  some  of  this 
good  food.  He  hesitated  to 
extract  sacks  at  night  when 
the  train  came  to  a  standstill 
at  some  small  station,  for  the 
sepoy  escort  perched  on  the 
top  of  goods  at  intervals  along 
the  train  would  then  be  es- 
pecially on  the  alert,  and  pos- 


sibly pick  him  off  with  their 
rifles.  He  came  to  the  con- 
clusion, therefore,  that  the  trick 
had  better  be  done  whilst  the 
train  was  in  motion.  Accord- 
ingly, he  took  up  his  stand  at 
various  sharp  curves  where 
the  train  had  to  proceed  with 
the  utmost  caution,  having  ac- 
quired, possibly,  a  decided  list 
to  one  side  or  the  other.  From 
his  coign  of  vantage,  and  par- 
tially concealed  in  the  darkness 
by  the  slope  of  the  bank,  the 
angler  would  make  use  of  a 
long  pole  with  stout  hook 
attached  to  its  end.  This  he 
would  deftly  insert  into  sack 
after  sack  of  the  mountains 
heaped  on  to  the  low  trucks,  as 
the  train  laboriously  lumbered 
past,  and  these  would  come 
tumbling  down  the  bank  beside 
him.  The  sepoy  escort  pro- 
bably regarded  these  occasional 
falls  of  sacks  merely  as  an 
unavoidable  incident  in  the 
journey,  due  to  the  roughness 
of  the  track,  and  the  fisher- 
man was  not  often  detected 
or  downed.  As  soon  as  the 
train  had  passed,  the  booty  was 
rapidly  transferred  into  dug- 
out canoes  near  at  hand,  and 
conveyed  to  the  innermost  re- 
cesses of  the  swamp  area. 
Stout  nets  had  ultimately  to 
be  placed  over  the  sacks  when 
trucks  were  fully  loaded  up, 
in  order  to  prevent  leakages  of 
this  description. 

It  will  probably  be  under- 
stood that  efforts  were  con- 
tinuously made  to  recover 
stolen  rifles,  and  other  Govern- 
ment property,  by  the  Political 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


511 


Officers  in  the  various  districts 
where  thefts  were  perpetrated, 
but  these  rarely  led  to  much. 
Surprise  visits  to  neighbouring 
villages  and  encampments  by 
cavalry  and  infantry  of  the 
mobile  columns  were  also  re- 
sorted to  from  time  to  time  ; 
but  these,  too,  more  often  than 
not  drew  comparative  blanks. 
One  such  expedition  I  recall 
during  the  sojourn  of  the  Brit- 
ish division  for  their  intensive 
training  at  Amarah,  in  October 
1916.  The  Political  Officer  in- 
formed me  that  his  myrmidons 
had  absolutely  marked  down 
a  gang  of  rifle  thieves,  who  had 
formed  a  small  colony  some 
10  miles  distant,  between  the 
Chahalah  and  Masharreh  Canals. 
I  decided  to  despatch  a  force  of 
200  cavalry  and  300  infantry 
to  surround  the  colony  before 
dawn.  The  utmost  secrecy 
was  observed  in  our  prepara- 
tions, the  Arab  guide  to  con- 
duct the  column  being  kept 
under  lock  and  key,  so  to 
speak,  until  the  hour  arrived 
for  the  column  to  sally  forth 
at  dead  of  night.  The  ten 
difficult  miles  of  country  were 
covered  in  the  dark  without 
mishap,  the  objective  safely 
reached,  and  the  unsuspecting 
encampment  cautiously  sur- 
rounded without  disturbing  a 
single  soul  in  it.  At  the  first 
flush  of  dawn  the  column 
closed  in,  prepared  for  the 
"  budmashes  "  to  offer  a  stub- 
born resistance  rather  than 
allow  themselves  to  be  taken 
alive  with  their  incriminating 
captures  of  rifles  in  their  pos- 


session. The  final  rush  with 
fixed  bayonets  from  every  side 
was  then  made.  Much  to  the 
chagrin  of  all,  the  sole  occu- 
pants of  the  encampment 
proved  to  be  two  toothless  old 
hags  and  an  ancient  crippled 
Arab !  It  certainly  was  a 
"  sell  "  ;  and  the  strictest 
search  brought  to  light  only 
one  British  rifle,  several  old 
Martinis,  and  two  or  three 
Turkish  rifles.  The  colony 
had  evidently  received  timely 
warning,  and  cleared  out  en 
bloc  with  their  most  valued 
booty  a  few  hours  before  the 
advent  of  the  column.  To 
show  that  there  was  no  ill- 
feeling,  however,  the  encamp- 
ment was  burnt,  and  the  column 
returned  to  Amarah  with  the 
few  rifles  secured.  Incident- 
ally, it  drove  along  a  flock  of 
600  fine  fat-tailed  sheep,  which 
had  been  rounded  up  about  the 
encampment.  The  tired  troops 
dined  and  slept  well  the  night 
of  their  return  to  Amarah. 

Enough  has  been  written, 
perhaps,  to  demonstrate  the 
versatility,  resource,  and  cour- 
age of  these  Arab  thieves ; 
and,  in  conclusion,  it  may  be 
of  interest  to  draw  attention 
to  some  features  of  their  train- 
ing, wherein  lie  the  chief  cause 
of  success  in  their  exciting 
calling.  I  do  not  pretend  to 
any  inside  knowledge  of  the 
subject,  and  the  opinions  put 
forward  by  me  are  purely  per- 
sonal ones  based  on  some  three 
years'  experience  of  endeavour- 
ing to  frustrate,  amongst  other 
things,  the  thieving  proclivities 


512 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


of  some  of  the  Arabs  of  Iraq. 

1  say  advisedly   "  some,"  be- 
cause it  is  unlikely  that  any 
but  especially  gifted  individuals 
could  embark  with  success  on 
such  a  career,  in  face  of  the 
difficulties  by  which  they  were 
often  confronted.    A  candidate 
for  high  honours  in  the  pro- 
fession must  undoubtedly  pos- 
sess cool  calm  courage  of  the 

2  A.M.  order  and  peculiar  quick- 
ness of  wit,  in  order  to  extri- 
cate himself  almost  automatic- 
ally from  any  perilous  position 
in  which  he  may  suddenly  find 
himself.    He  must  surely,  too, 
be  blessed  with  the  faculty  of 
vision  of  near  objects  by  night 
little    removed   from    that    of 
which  he  is  the  possessor  by 
day.     He  must  further  be  a 
master  of  the  utmost  delicacy 
of  touch,  or  he  would  inevitably 
arouse  light  sleepers  when  ab- 
stracting rifles   lying  between 
them  in  a  crowded  tent.    But 
whilst  endowed  with  all  such 
attributes,  it  is  essential  also 
that  he   should  have  evolved 
particular  methods  of  progres- 
sion which  render  him  invisible, 
or    thoroughly    inconspicuous, 
when  drawing  near  to  a  camp, 
and  during  the   committal  of 
skilful    thefts    therein,    whilst 
moving  deftly  among  the  tents, 
and  in  and  out  of  them,  with- 
out attracting  the  attention  of 
sentries. 

The  prevalence  of  jackals 
and  pi-dogs  throughout  the 
occupied  portions  of  Iraq  per- 
haps suggested  the  idea  to 
Arab  thieves  that  the  acquisi- 
tion of  a  lifelike  imitation  of 


the  calls,  movements,  and  ac- 
tions of  these  animals  would 
greatly  further  their  aims — by 
disarming  the  suspicions  of 
alert  sentries.  In  the  com- 
pany of  one  of  my  staff  I  have 
more  than  once  alighted  after 
dark  on  Arab  urchins,  in  little- 
frequented  byways  of  Amarah 
town,  aping  on  all-fours  the 
ambles  and  mannerisms  of  dogs, 
which  they  carried  out  to  per- 
fection. On  suddenly  perceiv- 
ing that  we  were  British  sol- 
diers, the  boys  would  incon- 
tinently take  to  their  heels  as 
though  they  had  been  caught 
red-handed  in  some  misdemean- 
our. "  Potential  rifle  thieves," 
was  the  remark  that  fell  from 
my  lips  to  my  companion  on 
such  occasions. 

I  was  fortified  in  this  belief 
by  the  perusal  of  the  proceed- 
ings of  many  courts  of  inquiry 
dealing  with  the  loss  of  rifles 
in  my  command.  It  was  rare, 
indeed,  that  sentries  on  duty 
ever  saw  anything — according 
to  their  evidence — resembling 
a  human  being,  outside  or 
within  the  camp  area.  The 
dismal  calls  of  jackals,  and  the 
maddening  yowls  of  pi-dogs, 
alone  had  disturbed  the  vigils 
of  an  otherwise  peaceful  night. 
Yet  rifles  had  gone  from  tents 
almost  under  their  very  noses, 
and  the  loss  only  discovered 
after  the  break  of  day.  An 
unusually  daring  theft  from 
the  Mudelil  Mobile  Column 
camp,  located  on  the  river 
bank  at  the  junction  of  the 
Dujailah  and  Tigris  some  40 
miles  up-stream  of  Amarah, 


1921.] 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


513 


shed  a  little  light  on  such 
mysteries.  The  force  consisted 
of  a  battalion  of  Indian  in- 
fantry, a  squadron  of  Indian 
cavalry,  and  a  section  of  an 
Indian  mountain  battery.  The 
post  constructed  for  its  accom- 
modation was  a  stout  earthen 
breast-work  perimeter,  penta- 
gonal in  trace,  some  4  ft.  6  in. 
in  height  and  3  ft.  thick  at  the 
top.  Outside  this  was  the 
broad  deep  ditch,  from  which 
the  earth  for  the  mud-plastered 
breast-work  had  been  exca- 
vated. Some  yards  beyond 
that  again  was  a  formidable 
barbed-wire  entanglement,  sur- 
rounding the  entire  post  save 
for  the  roadway  leading  inland, 
which  was  closed  at  night  by 
a  heavy  barbed- wire  and  timber 
gate,  and  a  sentry  stationed 
thereat.  For  several  months 
after  the  construction  of  the 
post  it  was  the  pride  of  the 
mobile  column  commander  that 
not  one  single  rifle  had  been 
stolen  from  his  force.  It  was 
then  decided  that  the  Dujailah 
should  be  bridged  at  the  post, 
for  in  the  flood  season  it  was 
some  15  to  20  ft.  deep  and 
about  70  yards  wide.  It  was 
thus  a  serious  obstacle  to  the 
movements  of  the  mobile  col- 
umn when  required  to  cross  it 
rapidly  for  operations  on  the 
farther  bank. 

Accordingly,  a  bridging  train 
of  Indian  sappers  was  ordered 
to  Mudelil  to  construct  a  pile- 
bridge  across  the  Dujailah,  and 
part  of  the  perimeter  defences 
on  the  side  of  the  post  over- 
looking that  stream  was  en- 


trusted to  these  new  arrivals. 
Their  tents,  equipment,  &c., 
were  pitched  and  stacked  im- 
mediately in  rear  of  the  face 
for  whose  protection  they  were 
responsible  ;  and  for  some  days 
nothing  untoward  occurred, 
whilst  the  bridging  of  the  Du- 
jailah continued  apace.  Then 
one  fine  morning  the  column 
commander  was  incensed  to 
learn  that  no  less  than  fourteen 
rifles  had  been  stolen  the  night 
before  from  the  sappers,  and 
immediately  telegraphed  the 
unpleasant  news  to  me  at 
Amarah.  The  court  of  inquiry 
elicited  the  fact  that  no  special 
precautions  had  been  taken 
regarding  the  safety  of  the 
rifles  in  the  sappers'  tents  by 
night,  and  that  their  sentries 
had  seen  nothing  but  an  occa- 
sional pi-dog  jump  on  to  the 
parapet  and  disappear  either 
into  the  camp  or  out  of  it 
again.  As  the  yapping  of  pi- 
dogs,  apparently  from  an  Arab 
encampment  a  short  distance 
up  the  Tigris,  had  been  pretty 
continuous  throughout  the 
night,  no  particular  attention 
had  been  paid  to  these  in- 
truders, who  were  merely  re- 
garded as  harmless  scavengers. 
There  is  little  doubt,  however 
that  these  "  harmless  scaven- 
gers "  got  safely  away  with 
fourteen  good  Government 
rifles  during  the  night,  for  the 
wire  outside  was  skilfully  cut 
in  several  places  to  admit  of 
their  cautious  ingress  and  egress. 
It  is  perhaps  needless  to 
state  that  a  rigid  search  of 
neighbouring  encampments  by 


514 


Rifle  Thieves  of  Iraq. 


[Oct. 


the  column  brought  forth  none 
of  the  missing  rifles  ;  but  the 
commander  was  determined  to 
try  and  get  even  with  the  rifle 
thieves.  He  arranged,  there- 
fore, for  some  of  the  smartest 
young  sepoys  in  his  battalion 
to  conceal  themselves  at  night 
in  the  ditch  of  the  post  outside 
the  breast-work,  and  to  await 
events.  A  few  nights  later  a 
couple  of  "  pi- dogs  "  were  ob- 
served worming  their  way 
through  the  wire  in  front  of 
the  sapper  perimeter.  They 
were  allowed  to  get  well  inside 
the  entanglement,  and  when 


this  formidable  barrier  was 
behind  them  a  sudden  rush 
with  fixed  bayonets  and  other 
lethal  weapons  was  made  for 
the  dogs.  These  were  over- 
whelmed, hacked  to  pieces,  and 
reduced  to  a  state  of  pulp  by 
the  time  they  were  finished 
with.  They  proved  to  be 
Arabs,  of  course.  Thus  two 
of  this  daring  band  of  rifle 
thieves  were  despatched;  and 
the  rest  gave  the  post  a  wide 
berth  during  the  remainder  of 
the  period  the  mobile  column 
was  located  there.  El  hamdu 
lillah! 


1921.] 


516 


VIGNETTES. 

BY  ELLA  MACMAHON. 
XV.    THE   STATION-MASTER  AT  AGHOLE. 


AGHOLE  is,  I  suppose,  one 
of  the  most  insignificant  rail- 
way stations  in  the  kingdom. 
The  single  line  which  it  serves 
diverges  from  the  main  line 
at  "the  Junction,"  and  was 
constructed  originally  in  re- 
sponse to  the  demands  of  a 
great  local  magnate  who  owned 
an  historic  peerage,  and  (in 
former  days)  half  the  country- 
side. Aghole  station  was  built 
for  his  convenience,  and  re- 
mains as  such  unto  this  day. 

The  unimportance  of  the 
station  is,  however,  more  than 
balanced  by  the  self-importance 
of  the  station  -  master.  He 
reigns  over  his  exceedingly  ab- 
breviated domain  with  all  the 
traditional  arrogance  of  petty 
princes,  and  regards  his  office 
as  nothing  less  than  the  lynch- 
pin  of  the  entire  railway  system 
of  the  country.  I  am  not  sure 
that  in  his  most  grandiloquent 
moments  he  does  not  look  upon 
the  Company  of  which  he  is  a 
servant  as  his  personal  pos- 
session, and  the  board  of  direc- 
tors as  his  vassals.  Anyhow, 
his  demeanour  leaves  nothing 
to  be  desired  in  assertiveness 
and  consciousness  of  his  own 
worth. 

The  station  consists  of  a 
small  shed  built  of  stone,  with 
a  slated  roof,  somewhat  out 


of  repair,  and  containing  a 
single  wooden  bench  for  the 
benefit  of  waiting  passengers. 
The  inner  walls  of  this  edifice 
are  chipped  and  grimy,  and 
their  decoration  is  furnished 
by  railway  time-tables  (gene- 
rally a  month  or  two  out  of 
date — a  trifling  drawback,  since 
nobody  ever  dreams  of  con- 
sulting them),  interspersed  with 
large  posters  announcing  weekly 
and  monthly  fairs,  and  auction 
bills  regarding  sales  of  hay 
and  oats  and  other  farm  pro- 
duce. In  another^small  box- 
like  erection  at  one  end  of  the 
platform,  and  close  beside  the 
solitary  gate  which  gives  in- 
gress and  egress  to  the  station, 
is  the  ticket-office.  Within  it 
the  station-master  sits  with 
the  utmost  official  pomp,  and 
from  it  he  directs  the  activities 
of  his  sole  subordinate,  a  youth 
of  some  sixteen  summers,  who 
might,  from  his  chief's  manner, 
be  a  complete  staff  at  a  large 
terminus  rather  than  one  for- 
lorn-looking lad.  The  arrival 
of  a  train  brings  forth  the 
station-master  to  the  platform 
with  an  air  of  great  grandeur. 
There  is  quite  a  touch  of  mag- 
nificence in  the  manner  in 
which,  when  "  she  is  signalled 
from  the  Junction,"  he  emerges 
from  the  ticket-office,  locking 


Vignettes. 


[Oct. 


the  door  behind  him.  De- 
scending passengers  are  treated 
strictly  according  to  their  class. 
First-class  (rare  birds  these) 
with  high  distinction,  third- 
class  with  contumely,  and 
second-class  (to  which  most 
of  us  adhere)  with  moderate 
respect,  pleasingly  informed 
with  cordiality  according  to 
the  place  we  occupy  in  Mooney's 
affections.  For  Bartholomew 
Mooney,  station-master  of  Ag- 
hole,  is  a  respecter  of  persons 
undisguisedly  and  deliberately, 
and  his  high  esteem  of  the 
qualities  fitted  for  his  own 
office  does  not  include  impar- 
tiality. Indeed  a  less  impar- 
tial person  it  would  be  difficult 
to  discover — even  in  Ireland. 
This  is  the  more  remarkable 
since,  according  to  his  own 
account,  his  favourite  axiom 
is :  "Be  civil  to  all,  but 
familiar  with  few."  So  far 
as  his  practice  goes,  the  re- 
verse would  be  more  correct, 
for  he  is  familiar  with  almost 
everybody  and  civil  to  none. 
Sometimes  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  he  looks  upon  all 
railway  passengers  as  potential 
criminals  banded  together  in 
a  nefarious  conspiracy  to  rob 
the  Company  and  torment  its 
servants  ;  at  other  times,  as 
more  or  less  harmless  but 
hopeless  imbeciles  flung  by  a 
mysterious  providence  into  his 
care.  To  such  he  is  very 
officious  in  his  attentions.  He 
will  pursue  one  down  the  plat- 
form brandishing  the  imple- 
ment with  which  he  nicks  the 
tickets,  and  will  have  no  com- 
punction in  nicking  an  arm  or 


a  leg  in  order  to  arrest  one's  at- 
tention, shouting  meanwhile — 

"  Where  are  ye  goin'  ?  Come 
back  out  o'  that.  Don't  ye 
know  very  well  the  train's 
going  th'  other  way  ?  " 

And  when  one  mildly  pro- 
tests that  one  is  aware  of  that 
fact,  and  is  merely  wishing  to 
exercise  oneself  to  the  length 
of  the  platform,  he  only  grunts, 
and  observes  ungraciously — 

"  Well,  an'  how  was  I  to 
know  that !  Be  the  way  ye 
were  goin',  I  thought  'twas 
tryin'  to  cross  the  line  ye 
were,  in  conthravintion  of  the 
Comp-ny's  bye-laws." 

To  strangers  he  is  invariably 
haughty,  not  to  say  rude. 
This  is  partly  to  display  his 
own  importance,  to  which,  as 
a  rule,  they  are  reprehensibly 
blind,  and  secondly,  because 
of  his  innate  suspicion  of  un- 
known persons.  I  was  stand- 
ing on  the  platform  one  day 
when  an  irate  passenger  de- 
scended from  the  train  and 
demanded  in  peremptory  ac- 
cents an  interview  with  the 
station-master.  He  found  him- 
self confronted  by  a  tall,  lean, 
unkempt  man,  bareheaded  and 
untidily  clad  in  a  nondescript 
mixture  of  official  and  civilian 
garments. 

"  Ask  the  station-master  to 
come  here,"  said  the  passenger 
curtly. 

"  Here,  is  it !  "  was  the  re- 
sponse. "  Arrah,  an'  what  more 
'  here  '  d'ye  want  him  *  " 

The  traveller  eyed  the 
speaker  impatiently. 

"  Perhaps  if  you  won't  bring 
him  here,"  he  said  coldly, 


1921.] 


Vignettes, 


617 


"  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
inform  him  that  my  luggage  is 
missing." 

"  Missing,  is  it  ?  Who  do  ye 
think  yer  spakin'  to  ?  " 

"I'm  sure  I  haven't  an 
idea,"  was  the  reply  in  a 
nettled  tone. 

"  I  wouldn't  doubt  ye,"  ob- 
served the  station-master  of 
Aghole  with  cutting  sarcasm. 
"  'Tisn't  ideas  the  like  o'  you 
have,  I'm  thinking,  but  if  ye 
have  enough  wit  to  get  here 
at  all  ye  have  enough  to  under- 
stand that  the  station-master 
of  this  tairminus  is  me  !  " 

"  You  !  "  The  traveUer's  lips 
formed  the  ejaculation,  but  did 
not  utter  it. 

"  What  did  ye  do  with  yer 
luggage,  and  where  have  ye 
come  from  ?  "  continued  the 
station-master  inquisitorially. 

"  Dublin.  And  my  luggage 
was  put  in  the  van,  and  labelled 
Aghole ;  it  consisted  of  a 
suit -case,  a  hat -box,  and  a 
trunk." 

In  perfect  silence  the  station- 
master  turned  on  his  heel  and 
led  the  way  to  the  ticket- 
office,  the  passenger  following. 
Arrived  there,  the  former  per- 
sonage sat  down  at  his  desk 
and  opened  a  dingy  ledger. 
Therein  he  wrote  down  slowly 
the  catalogue  of  missing  articles 
just  enumerated. 

"  When  may  I  expect  to  see 
them  f  "  inquired  their  owner. 

"  Bedad,  whenever  ye  like," 
was  the  reply ;  "  'tis  more 
than  I  can  tell  ye." 

Exasperation  mounted  high 
in  the  traveller's  voice. 

"  Do    you   understand,"    he 


shouted,  "  that  you  have  lost 
my  luggage  ?  " 

"  D'you  undtherstand  the 
Comp-ny's  bye-laws  ?  " 

"  Bye-laws  be " 

"  Faith,  ye  might  be  that 
yerself  first." 

"  Once  for  all,  understand 
that  if  my  luggage  is  not  forth- 
coming— one  suit-case,  one  hat- 
box,  and  one  trunk — I  shall 
make  a  formal  complaint  to 
headquarters,  and  I  shall  tell 
them  pretty  plainly  what  I 
think  of  you." 

"  Aye,  that's  the  best  thing 
ye  can  do,  and  don't  forget 
about  me,  whatever  ye  do." 

"It  is  monstrous  to  leave 
an  impudent  blackguard  like 
you  in  charge  of  a  station." 

"  I'm  not  black,  and  I  never 
was  a  guard,  so  you're  out 
there." 

The  other  stamped. 

"  If  my  luggage — one  suit- 
case, one  hat-box,  and  one 
trunk " 

"  'Tis  a  great  wondther,  so 
it  is  " — the  drawling  accents 
fell  across  the  furious  reitera- 
tion— "  that  the  Lord  Almighty 
didn't  make  ye  an  elephant 
instead  of  an  ass,  for  then  ye 
could  have  travelled  with  yer 
trunk  in  front  of  ye  all  the 
time." 

Eecent  events  have  neces- 
sitated some  revision  of  the 
number  and  hours  of  the  trains 
at  Aghole.  The  station-master's 
summary  is  brief. 

"  'Tis  the  way  it  is  now  and 
till  further  notice — the  seven- 
ten  goes  at  six-fifteen,  and  the 
eight-five  at  nine,  and  the  nine- 
ten  at  eight-fifty,  and  there's 


518 


Vignettes. 


[Oct. 


no  last  train  at  all,  for  they've 
taken  it  off." 

There  is  always  considerable 
latitude  in  the  departure  of 
trains  from  Aghole  :  they  have 
even  been  known  to  stop  and 
wait  at  the  sight  of  the  car- 
riage or  motor  of  some  person 
of  consequence.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  train  is  at  times 
curiously  tardy  in  its  depar- 
ture. This  happened  to  be 
the  case  on  one  occasion  when 
a  traveller  on  her  way  back 
to  England  was  so  benighted 
as  to  expect  it  to  start 
punctually.  Exasperated  by  a 
lengthy  and  seemingly  mean- 
ingless delay,  the  lady  thrust 
her  head  out  of  the  window 
more  than  once  and  accosted 
the  station-master  impatiently. 
Twice  in  response  his  only 
reply  was :  "  Augh,  sure  that'll 
be  all  right ;  "  while  to  in- 
creasingly anxious  inquiries  all 
he  vouchsafed  was — 

"  Sit  where  ye  are,  can't  ye. 
That'll  be  aU  right  now." 

And  again — 

"If  ye  be  botherin'  me  like 
this  the  train'll  never  start  at 
all." 

At  last,  after  an  absolutely 
agonised  appeal,  he  raised  his 
voice,  and  in  lazy  accents 
called  out  to  the  engine  - 
driver — 

"  Are  ye  goin'  on  there, 
Mick  f  " 

"  Goin'  on  !  Sure,  isn't  the 
signal  agin  me  ?  " 

"  The  signal."  The  drawl 
slid  into  a  snort.  "  Ah,  how 
mighty  pertikler  ye  are  all 
of  a  suddint.  Ye'd  betther 
be  goin'  on  when  I  tell  ye  j 


there's  a  lady  down  here  in  a 
terrible  hurry." 

And  the  train  started. 

The  dream  of  Bartholomew 
Mooney's  life  is  to  be  station- 
master  at  the  "Joonction." 
He  always  speaks  as  if  the 
position  could  be  his  for  the 
asking,  and  this  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  many  station- 
masters  have  come  and  gone 
at  the  Junction  during  the 
years  in  which  he  has  been  at 
Aghole.  Yet  he  persists  in 
the  belief  that  he  may  be  sent 
there  any  day.  He  intends,  so 
he  says,  when  he  gets  there, 
to  expend  some  of  his  enor- 
mously increased  pay  in  taking 
a  trip  to  London.  He  has  an 
extraordinary  desire  to  see 
London,  and  he  seems  to  sep- 
arate it  in  his  regard  com- 
pletely from  England — which 
he  hates. 

"  There's  no  one  is  rightly 
a  man  o'  the  worrld  till  he's 
seen  London,"  is  one  of  his 
most  emphatic  pronounce- 
ments, "  and  I'll  see  it,  please 
God,  before  I  die,  and  be  the 
aiquil  of  the  best  yet." 

That,  I  imagine,  has  a  good 
deal  to  do  with  his  aspiration. 
He  cannot  bear  to  think  that 
so  many  of  the  travellers 
over  whom  he  lords  it  should 
have  the  advantage  of  him  in 
this. 

He  is  intelligent  enough  to 
realise  that  London  is  the 
greatest  city  in  the  world,  and, 
like  most  of  his  race,  he  has 
an  unquenchable  craving  for 
greatness  and  splendour.  All 
this,  however,  does  not  prevent 
him  from  being  very  offended 


1921.] 


Vignettes. 


519 


with  any  persons  of  his  ac- 
quaintance who  go  to  live 
there.  He  has  never  forgiven 
me  for  doing  so  ;  and  though 
his  welcome  to  me  when  I 
visit  my  native  land  is — for 
him — very  gracious,  he  cannot 
refrain  from  ironical  and  mock- 
ing allusions  to  the  supposed 
state  and  magnificence  which 
I  enjoy  "in  it ! "  I  have 
never  been  able  to  decide 
whether  a  certain  incident  was 
planned  by  him  as  a  satirical 
subtlety,  or  whether  it  was 
absolutely  bona  fide.  Anyhow, 
I  was  leaving  to  return  to 
London.  He  had  been  in- 
structed to  send  up  for  my 
luggage  and  convey  it  to  the 
station.  I  had  been  motored 
to  Aghole  from  another  part 
of  the  county,  so  I  had  not  on 
this  occasion  arrived  by  train 
— of  all  of  which  he  was  per- 
fectly aware.  One  is  never 
perturbed  at  Aghole  by  un- 
punctuality ;  still,  on  this  oc- 
casion, after  waiting  until  the 
last  possible  moment,  it  seemed 
fairly  certain  that  if  my  lug- 
gage was  to  be  conveyed  to 
the  station  in  time  for  the 
train  by  which  I  proposed  to 
travel,  it  should  be  done  by 
some  means  other  than  the 
station-master's  agency.  Even- 
tually it  was  crammed  (not  a 
very  large  quantity)  into  the 
two-seater,  and  we  started.  We 
got  to  a  sharp  turn  in  the  very 
narrow  road,  flanked  by  rather 
high  hedges,  which  is  the  "  short 
cut  "  to  the  station,  when  we 
were  within  an  ace  of  colliding 
with  a  monstrous  vehicle,  which 
seemed  to  be  a  cross  between 


a  furniture-van  and  a  Carter 
Paterson  conveyance.  This  ex- 
traordinary caravan,  to  which 
an  exceedingly  undersized  horse 
was  harnessed,  had  apparently 
got  itself  wedged  immovably 
between  the  hedges.  As  the 
two-seater  was  pulled  up  with 
a  jerk  which  nearly  pitched  us 
out,  the  face  of  the  solitary 
subordinate  at  Aghole  station 
peered  at  us  round  the  side  of 
the  van.  The  owner  of  the 
face  was  seated  on  the  side  of 
the  shaft  in  an  attitude  of 
contemplative  patience. 

"  Himself,"  said  the  youth 
affably,  "  sent  me  for  the  lady's 
luggage,  but  the  harse  was 
hard-set  for  to  get  the  van 
along  be  anny  manner  o'  means, 
an'  it's  thinkin'  I  am  that  it's 
unyoke  him  we  best  do  and 
pull  it  round  out  o'  this  our- 
selves." 

This  we  did,  while  I  mur- 
mured my  apprehensions  as  to 
the  possibility  of  catching  the 
train. 

"Is  it  catch  her  ye  want  ? 
Augh,  sure  that'll  be  all  right 
now.  Himself  '11  never  let  her 
go  without  ye.  Bedad,  he'll 
be  terrible  mad  at  me  stickin' 
here.  Why  couldn't  ye  come 
sooner ;  I'm  in  it  this  half- 
hour,  so  I  am." 

To  my  stunned  inquiry  as 
to  the  reason  for  sending  this 
gigantic  conveyance  for  such 
a  trifling  load  as  my  luggage, 
he  seemed  to  be  able  to  find 
no  response  other  than  that 
himself  ordered  the  van  and 
not  the  cart,  and  the  divil  a 
ha'porth  did  he  (the  speaker) 
know  about  it. 


520 


Vignettes. 


[Oct. 


"  But  yous  had  betther  let 
me  have  it  now  or  he'll  Tcill 
me  if  I  go  back  without  it." 

To  avert  so  awful  a  result, 
my  little  box,  hold-all,  and 
dressing-case  were  shot  into 
the  cavernous  depths  of  the 
monster,  and  the  undersized 
"  harse,"  still  "  hard-set,"  pro- 
ceeded to  draw  the  conveyance 
to  the  station. 

We  got  there  first  by  a  long 
way.  The  station-master  met 
us  with  bland  nonchalance.  He 
presented  me  with  my  ticket 
as  if  it  were  indeed  a  present 
from  himself  instead  of  a  pur- 
chase from  the  Company. 

"And  'tis  the  luggage  ye '11 
be  wanting  labelled  next,"  he 
remarked  graciously. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  and  I  laughed  ; 
"  did  you  think  I  was  taking 
the  furniture  of  a  house  back 
with  me." 


He  looked  at  me  with  im- 
perturbable gravity. 

"  'Tis  not  goin'  back  to 
London  ye'll  be  an'  you  tellin' 
them  in  it  that  yer  grand  boxes 
and  ladies'  dress-baskets  was 
ground  down  like  powder  with 
pushin'  them  into  a  small  ould 
cart  that's  only  fit  to  carry  a 
common  tin  trunk — aw  no,  I 
seen  to  that." 

At  this  moment  the  van  hove 
in  sight  laboriously  wending 
its  way,  and  finally  brought 
itself  to  a  standstill  at  the  gate. 
Its  contents  were  exhumed  by 
the  driver  and  laid  at  the 
station-master's  feet. 

"  Is  that  the  whole  of  them  T  " 
he  asked. 

"  It  is." 

He  caught  my  eye. 

"  Well,  there's  '  London  '  for 
ye.  .  .  ." 

I  looked  away. 


XVI.    KATE  HIGGIN. 


Kate  Higgin  was  known  in 
our  household  as  the  Auxiliary. 
It  must  not  be  supposed  that 
the  name  had  any  sinister 
meaning,  for  those  were  days 
long  before  any  official  signifi- 
cance appertained  to  the  word. 
Kate  Higgin  received  it  simply 
because  she  was  always  avail- 
able as  a  helper  in  emergencies. 
You  could  not  have  called  her 
a  charwoman ;  she  was  too 
incompetent.  Indeed,  any 
creature  farther  removed  from 
competence  surely  never  suc- 
ceeded in  earning  a  pittance. 
Her  capacity  for  not  doing 
any  single  thing  well  was  ex- 


traordinary. Nevertheless  there 
was  nothing  she  would  not 
attempt  to  do  if  required,  an 
endearing  quality  especially  in 
the  eyes  of  domestic  servants. 
The  latter  knew  they  could 
count  upon  Kate  ;  and  "  sure 
she  was  that  willing,  the  cra- 
ture,  ye  could  never  have  the 
heart  to  blame  her."  And  the 
curious  part  of  it  was  that  one 
never  had, — perhaps  not  so 
curious  after  all,  for  there  was 
something  in  her  personality 
that  slew  censoriousness  even 
against  its  will. 

Her  appearance  was  the  last 
word  in  unprofessional  stand- 


1921.] 


Vignettes. 


521 


ards.  She  never  to  my  know- 
ledge possessed  an  apron  (one 
would  think  an  indispensable 
adjunct  to  household  work), 
and  never  wore  any  except 
those  lent  to  her  by  the  ser- 
vants. She  would  then  tie  it 
on  carelessly  over  her  black 
"  jacket,"  an  outdoor  garment 
to  which  inside  the  house  she 
clung  tenaciously.  Her  figure 
was  slight,  her  head  small,  her 
face  thin,  and  her  teeth  dread- 
fully neglected,  yet  her  de- 
ficiencies were  discounted  by 
the  gentleness  and  sincerity  of 
her  countenance  ;  indeed,  there 
was  in  her  regard  something 
of  the  wistful  fidelity  of  a  dog's 
eyes.  A  pure  soul  looked  out 
through  them. 

She  walked  shufflingly.  I 
can  still  hear  the  slish  of  her 
footsteps  over  the  stone-flagged 
basement  of  our  house,  the 
result,  no  doubt,  of  the  frag- 
mentary wisps  which  she  called 
her  boots.  There  was  a  tradi- 
tion that  Kate  Higgin  lived 
with  her  brother.  This  may 
have  been  so,  but  whenever  I 
visited  her  in  the  room  which 
she  inhabited  she  was  always 
alone — except  for  her  cats.  She 
had  four,  and  loved  them  im- 
partially. Her  heart,  I  think, 
was  divided  between  her  cats 
and  her  religion,  odd  as  this 
may  sound.  She  would  do 
anything  in  her  power  to  help 
a  human  being,  and  her  kind- 
ness of  heart  would  never  have 
failed  any  of  God's  creatures  ; 
but  one  had  the  feeling  with 
her  that  truly  there  was  none 
for  her  to  love,  and  that  such 
treasures  of  affection  as  she 


possessed  were  concentrated  up- 
on the  two  objects  I  have  men- 
tioned. She  was  profoundly 
pious,  with  that  piety  which 
the  Irish  peasant  achieves  with 
such  apparent  ease.  She  went 
"  to  the  chapel  "  every  morn- 
ing of  her  life  at  six  o'clock. 

"  Ye  see,"  she  observed  to 
me  once,  "  I  don't  mind  then 
what  happens  ;  I've  got  mass, 
and  if  I  didn't  go,  then  maybe 
I  wouldn't  get  it  all  day — with 
the  work." 

Nothing  could  be  more 
matter-of-fact  and  nothing  less 
pietistic  than  her  manner  of 
saying  this.  I  do  not  think 
that  Kate  Higgin  could  read 
or  write — at  all  events  with 
any  ease — yet  she  was  uni- 
versally reported  to  be  "  ter- 
rible well  up  in  religion."  Ex- 
actly how  this  pitch  of  perfec- 
tion was  attained  was  never 
explained,  but  it  may  well  be 
due  to  Him  who  giveth  light 
and  understanding  to  the  simple . 

One  always  knew  when  Kate 
was  in  the  house  by  the  in- 
describably soothing  effect 
which  she  seemed  to  have  upon 
the  household.  No  fuss  dis- 
turbed her,  and  she  appeared 
to  be  almost  superhumanly 
immune  from  crossness  in  her- 
self and  unaffected  by  it  in 
others.  On  the  other  hand, 
her  presence,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, was  sometimes  revealed 
by  untoward  happenings.  A 
sudden  and  appalling  crash  of 
china  or  crockery  betokened 
that  "  Kate  Higgin,  God  help 
her,  had  let  the  tray  out  of  her 
hand  again."  Once,  when  a 
particularly  valuable  dessert 


522 


Vignettes. 


[Oct. 


dish  had  been  smashed  to 
atoms,  Kate  took  to  her  bed, 
and  could  not  be  persuaded 
to  come  near  us  for  quite  a 
long  time.  She  reappeared  one 
day  bearing  an  extraordinarily 
hideous  cover-dish  for  vege- 
tables which  she  solemnly  pre- 
sented in  lieu  of  that  which 
she  had  broken.  Till  she  had 
saved  enough  money  to  pur- 
chase this  she  "  couldn't  look 
the  place  in  the  face." 

Kate's  manner  was  ingenu- 
ous like  herself,  and  her  fav- 
ourite ejaculation  was,  "  Ah, 
for  goodness  sake ! "  She 
varied  this  with  "  The  Lord 
be  praised  !  " — the  variation 
coming  in  curiously. 

"  Ah,  for  goodness  sake,  how 
are  you?  "  was  her  invariable 
greeting,  while  misfortune  usu- 
ally evoked  the  second  adjura- 
tion. 

"  'Tis  the  worst  weather  was 
ever  known,  so  it  is,  and  I've 
got  an  awful  cold,  the  Lord  be 
praised  !  " 

In  a  very  severe  winter  her 
manifold  employments  included 
clearing  our  hall- door  steps  of 
snow.  I  do  not  know  at  what 
hour  of  the  morning  she  started 
on  this  herculean  task,  but 
somewhere  about  noon  I  dis- 
covered her  laboriously  scrap- 
ing for  dear  life  with  a  broken 
shovel  whose  handle  had  about 
six  inches  of  length  left  to  it. 
She  desisted  for  a  moment 
when  she  saw  me,  and  stood 
upright,  gazing  at  me  with  an 
air  as  amiable  as  if  she  had 
but  just  emerged  from  a  luxuri- 
ous bed.  With  the  temperature 
wel}  below  freezing-point,  beads 


of  moisture  were  standing  upon 
her  forehead  ! 

I  said  I  thought  she  might 
have  been  provided  with  a 
better  implement  for  the  pur- 
pose than  the  broken  shovel. 
She  stared  at  it  meditatively, 
and  then  at  the  steps  from 
which  after  hours  of  toil  she 
had  succeeded  in  clearing  about 
four  square  feet  of  snow. 

"  Ah,  for  goodness  sake,  an' 
sure  'twould  be  an  '  act '  if  it 
wasn't  broken,  but  I'm  doubt- 
less (Kate  always  said  doubt- 
less, meaning  doubtful)  whether 
they've  'ere  a  wan  a  bit  better 
within." 

My  interposition  brought 
"  they  "  in  the  shape  of  cook 
on  the  scene. 

"An'  for  the  love  o'  God, 
and  is  that  what  yer  at,  Kate 
Higgin,  this  day  ?  "  Cook's 
voice,  irate  and  dictatorial, 
rose  shrilly:  "Sure,  wouldn't 
any  one  in  the  earthly  worrld 
know  that  ye'd  never  get  the 
snow  off  with  the  like  o'  that, 
only  yerself.  Why  don't  ye 
get  a  spade  out  o'  the  garden?  " 
The  vials  of  cook's  wrath 
poured  freely  having  once 
started.  "  I  declare  to  God, 
'tis  heart-scalded  any  one  would 
be  tryin'  to  insinse  knowledge 
into  the  like  of  you.  Go  and 
get  a  spade  this  instant  minute  ; 
d'ye  hear  what  I'm  sayin'  to 
yet" 

Kate  let  the  broken  shovel 
slide  out  of  her  hand  grace- 
fully, and  slished  down  the 
steps  meekly. 

"  The  Lord  be  praised,  an'  I 
never  thought  of  a  spade." 

Kate  wears  many  of  my  old 


1921.] 


Vignettes. 


523 


hats.  They  look  extraordin- 
arily well  upon  her.  In  fact,  I 
never  like  my  hats  half  so  well 
until  they  have  parted  from 
my  head  and  found  themselves 
on  hers.  Her  appreciation  of 
their  beauty  is  always  whole- 
hearted ;  but  she  is  not  careful 
to  wear  them  in  the  manner 
intended  by  the  milliner.  I 
have  known  her  persistently 
wear  one  back  to  front,  and 
even  place  another  sideways 
upon  her  head.  However,  this 
is  for  her  consideration,  not 


mine.  She  is  very  proud  of 
them,  and  has  often  remarked 
that  there's  not  many  like  her 
that  do  be  wearing  real  quality 
hats  in  the  chapel.  Over  one 
she  was  especially  grateful ; 
its  "  style  and  grandeur  "  was 
such  that  "  I  give  ye  me 
worrd,  th'  aulthur  boys  in  the 
chapel  was  civil  to  me  when 
they  seen  it,  and  sure  all  the 
worrld  knows  that  them  '  aul- 
thur boys  '  is  the  most  impident 
young  rooffians  on  the  face  of 
the  earth.  ." 


524 


[Oct. 


THE   LOED   PHAULKOK 


CONSTANTINE    PHATJLKON    Of 

Cephalonia      in      the      Ionian 
Islands,     who     surprised     the 
world  in  his  day,  was  an  ad- 
venturer  on   the   great    scale, 
and  a  high  kind  of  man  after 
a    fashion.      He    was    a   fore- 
runner   of    Alberoni    and    the 
long    list    of    favourites    and 
adventurers   who   gathered   in 
decadent   countries,    or   round 
Peter  the  Great  and  his  imme- 
diate successors  in  the  latter 
part   of  the   seventeenth   cen- 
tury and  far  into  the  eighteenth. 
His  theatre  was  in  the  remote 
East,   where   he   came   to   his 
not  unnatural  end  in  the  ser- 
vice of  "  the  most  illustrious, 
renowned,  generous,  and  truly 
glorious,  ever  good,  great,  and 
mighty  King  of  Siam,"  Phra 
Narai.      This    was    the    style 
adopted   by    Sir   John    Child, 
Governor  of  Bombay  for   the 
Honourable     Company.       His 
Siamese   Majesty   did   not,   as 
many  kings  and  sultans  have 
done,  grow  weary  of  his  fav- 
ourite   and    slay    him.      The 
sovereign     and     the     minister 
perished  together  in  the  "  great 
and    most    wonderful    revolu- 
tion,"  which   destroyed   them 
and  the  work  they  were  trying 
to  do  hand  in  hand  with  the 
Jesuits  and  the  King  of  France 
in     June     1688.       Though     a 
greater  and  a  still  more  won- 
derful revolution  broke  out  in 
October    of   that    year   nearer 
home,  Europe  had  still  atten- 
tion to  share  for  the  general 


overturn  in  the  Far  East.  It 
would  be  easy  to  fill  a  shelf 
with  'Full  and  True  Kela- 
tions,'  '  Lives  and  Deeds,'  in 
English,  French,  Dutch,  and 
German,  and  books  of  travel, 
Jesuit  and  other,  all  concerned, 
some  wholly  and  some  partly, 
with  the  prosperity  and  the 
downfall  of  "  Seigneur  Con- 
stance," alias  the  Lord  Phaul- 
kon.  Voltaire  gave  him  a  niche 
in  the  '  Siecle  de  Louis  XIV.' 

His  name  is,  of  course,  di- 
versely spelt.  The  Jesuit 
Tachard,  who  knew  him,  writes 
Constantine  Phaulkon,  and  we 
need  not  waste  time  over 
variants.  It  is  not,  however, 
necessary  to  accept  the  account 
given  by  le  Pere  Tachard,  or 
any  other  Jesuit,  of  his  origin. 
They  had  their  reasons  for 
making  the  most  of  him,  and 
it  gave  them  no  trouble  to 
provide  him  with  a  noble 
Venetian  ancestry.  Dr  John 
Anderson,  in  his  '  English  In- 
tercourse with  Siam,'  calls  him 
the  son  of  an  innkeeper  of 
Custode  in  Cephalonia.  In 
some  such  position  (even  the 
Jesuits  allow  that  his  family 
was  much  impoverished)  he 
was  born  in  or  about  1650. 
As  the  Ionian  Islands  were  a 
meeting-place  for  Greeks,  a 
name  of  vague  significance  in 
modern  times,  Albanians,  Vene- 
tians, Genoese,  and  all  other 
seafaring  men  who  sailed  the 
Mediterranean,  including  the 
crews  of  our  Smyrna  Company, 


1921.] 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


who  will  take  upon  himself  to 
decide  what  was  his  race  or 
combination  of  races  ?  If  char- 
acter is  any  guide,  then  we  can 
hazard  the  guess  that  he  was, 
if  not  wholly,  yet  in  good  part, 
an  Albanian.  He  was  an  active 
and  quick-witted  boy — of  that 
much  we  can  be  sure.  Some 
English  skipper  helped  him  to 
escape  from  a  narrow  world  of 
innkeeping  and  ship-chandlery. 
Then  he  followed  the  sea  in 
English  trading  craft,  till  some 
time  just  before  1670  he  shot 
out  into  the  remote  oceans  of 
the  East  in  the  capacity  of 
steward's  mate,  and  in  the 
company,  perhaps  the  employ- 
ment, of  one  who  more  than 
any  other  then  living  was 
qualified  to  launch  him  on  the 
routes  which  lead  up  to  soaring 
adventure  and  down  to  a  "  red 
coffin."  George  White  was  no 
common  man.  Sometimes  he 
served  the  Honourable  Com- 
pany, and  well  too.  But  he 
must  by  the  very  nature  of 
him  strive  for  more  elbow- 
room  than  an  organised  com- 
pany in  possession  of  a  mono- 
poly will  allow  to  any  servant. 
So  White  was  generally  an 
interloper  in  the  port-to-port 
trade  of  the  East,  and  an  ill 
neighbour  to  the  Company. 
His  headquarters  during  the 
time  when  Phaulkon  followed 
his  fortunes  in  voyages  from 
Siam  to  Persia  were  at  Ayuthia. 
The  old  capital  of  Siam  had 
not  as  yet  been  burnt  down  by 
the  Burmese,  and  the  kings 
had  not  moved  their  seat  of 
government  to  Bangkok.  II 
faut  savoir  se  borner.  There 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXII. 


is  too  much  to  say  of  Phaulkon 's 
doings  in  another  capacity  to 
allow  of  lingering  in  the  com- 
pany of  the  interloper,  either 
in  the  particular  case  of  George 
White  or  in  general.  He  worked 
his  work  by  deed  and  written 
and  spoken  word.  It  was  im- 
portant in  that  age,  and  not 
unprofitable  for  the  extension 
of  British  commerce,  and  in  a 
roundabout  way,  to  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  British  Empire 
in  India.  But  it  was  only  an 
episode  in  the  early  years  of 
the  Lord  Phaulkon. 

The  chances  of  an  incurably 
unsettled  life  carried  White 
far  away.  His  former  steward's 
mate,  and  latterly  his  associate, 
having  gathered  money  in  his 
rollings,  remained  to  trade  and 
interlope.  Having  got,  together 
with  a  handful  of  capital,  a 
competent  knowledge  of  the 
Siamese  language  and  also  of 
Portuguese,  which  was  still  the 
common  speech  or  lingua  franca 
of  the  Eastern  Seas,  knowing 
the  trade,  and  having  a  shrewd 
head  on  his  shoulders,  Phaulkon 
could  have  no  difficulty  in 
understanding  that  here  if  any- 
where was  his  opening.  He 
bought  a  small  craft,  probably 
from  White,  when  he  retired 
from  trade  on  his  own  account 
in  those  parts.  When  a  man 
is  "  born  to  be  king,"  his  very 
misfortunes  help  to  carry  him 
on.  The  rise  of  Phaulkon  to 
greatness  began  with  a  ship- 
wreck on  the  coast  of  Sumatra. 
Many  have  told  the  tale,  but 
there  can  be  no  authority  for 
it  save  his  own.  As  such  we 
will  take  it  as  being  "  mythi- 
u 


526 


The  Lord  Phaulkon, 


[Oct. 


cally  true,"  and  let  it  stand  on 
its  own  basis. 

He  escaped  from  the  wreck 
with  a  bag  of  2000  ducats,  to 
which  he  clung.  Tired  and 
strained  by  his  exertions,  he 
slept  on  the  beach,  and  he 
dreamt.  A  venerable  figure 
stood  beside  him,  and  said, 
smiling  benevolently,  "  Go  back 
to  the  place  whence  you  came." 
When  he  awoke,  he  puzzled 
over  the  interpretation  of  his 
dream.  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  that  the  place  whence  he 
came  was  the  Ionian  island 
Cephalonia.  While  he  doubted, 
he  was  aware  of  another  wan- 
derer on  the  beach,  wet,  ragged, 
and  in  sore  distress.  The 
victims  of  misfortune  should 
help  one  another.  Phaulkon 
offered  aid,  and  learnt  that  the 
forlorn  personage  was  the  vic- 
tim of  another  shipwreck.  He 
was  also  an  ambassador  sent 
by  the  King  of  Siam  to  Persia, 
who  had  suffered  disaster  on 
his  way  home.  The  heavenly 
powers  had  thrown  them  to- 
gether for  an  obvious  purpose. 
At  Phaulkon's  expense  and  in 
company  they  reached  Ayuthia. 
The  grateful  envoy  praised  his 
deliverer  to  the  chief  minister 
of  the  king,  and  we  do  not 
need  to  be  told  in  many  words 
what  followed.  A  flavour  of 
the  Arabian  Nights  is  in  this 
story,  and  it  might  fill  a  chapter 
of  Hope's  '  Anastasius.'  But 
the  Arabian  Nights  are  only 
the  poetic  version  of  the  ups 
and  downs  of  the  East,  and 
Constantine  Phaulkon  was  an 
Anastasius. 

In  this  or  some  more  prosaic 


way  he  came  under  the  appre- 
ciative eyes  of  the  minister 
who  conferred  the  places.  Euro- 
peans called  him  the  Barcalong, 
but  it  seems  they  should  call 
him  the  Phra  -  Klang.  Our 
Ionian  Anastasius  found  favour 
in  his  sight,  and  also  obtained 
a  place,  and  one  he  was  excel- 
lently fitted  to  fill  with  credit. 
A  Barcalong,  or  Phra-Klang, 
was  the  factotum  of  the  king, 
at  any  rate  on  the  civil  side. 
He  was  treasurer,  and  in  Siam, 
as  well  as  in  other  parts  of  the 
Far  East,  this  implied  that  he 
was  the  royal  merchant.  The 
king  was  the  great  "  merchant  " 
of  his  dominions.  He  allowed 
no  trader  to  buy  from  a  sub- 
ject until  the  royal  goods  were 
all  sold.  Nor  could  the  trader 
sell  till  the  crown  had  bought 
from  him  all  it  wanted  of  his 
goods.  The  king  could  not 
attend  to  so  much  business 
himself.  Therefore  he  ap- 
pointed a  factotum.  But  the 
minister  desired  to  enjoy  his 
pleasures  and  the  sweets  of 
office.  So  he  discharged  the 
laborious  part  of  his  work  on 
a  sub-factotum  or  sub-facto- 
tums. Nobody  could  be  fitter 
for  the  place  than  Phaulkon. 
He  had  the  languages ;  he 
knew  the  trade.  Moreover,  he 
was  an  undertaking,  strenuous, 
quick  -  witted  European  very 
well  qualified  to  speak  with 
the  agents  of  the  United 
Netherland  East  India  Char- 
tered Company  and  the  Com- 
pany of  the  Merchants  of  Lon- 
don, together  with  all  inter- 
lopers, at  the  gate.  It  was  all 
to  his  advantage  that  he  was 


1921.] 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


527 


neither  Dutchman  nor  English- 
man. He  became  the  factotum 
of  the  factotum,  and  putting 
his  foot  on  the  ladder,  he  went 
up  and  up  till  he  reached  the 
lofty  stage  at  the  top,  and 
shone  there  till  the  trap-door 
opened.  Before  the  fatal  day 
of  destiny  came,  he  suffered 
no  lack  of  wealth,  dignities, 
and  honorific  titles.  He  was 
"Phaya  Wichayentra  the*  bodi." 
So  Sir  John  Bo  wring  was 
told  by  no  less  an  authority 
than  a  King  of  Siam.  But  Sir 
E.  Satow  says  it  was  "  Chao 
phaya  Vichajen,"  and  Dr  John 
Anderson,  who  has  gathered 
all  there  was  to  be  known  of 
him,  says  that  he  was  "  Acloc- 
cany  Socroe  Saken." 

Those  who  are  familiar  with 
the  style  of  the  Chancery^  of 
Ayuthia  will  know  what  these 
names  may  imply.  The  foreign 
traders  who  frequented  the 
Menam  river  knew  him  as 
king's  merchant  or  favourite, 
one  who  had  risen  to  high 
place — a  man  you  must  deal 
with,  and  bribe  if  you  could 
not  bully.  They  soon  found 
that  he  was  a  man  to  be  feared. 
Out  of  conflicting  testimonies 
we  can  extract  a  reasonable 
degree  of  certainty  that  Con- 
stantine  Phaulkon  bore  himself 
in  his  good  fortune  with  that 
air  of  ease,  that  appearance  of 
being  native  to  greatness,  which 
has  often  been  observed  in 
orientals  and  semi  -  orientals 
whom  the  wheel  of  chance  has 
carried  up  from  obscurity.  Mr 
Strangh,  agent  of  the  East 
India  Company,  did  indeed 
accuse  him  of  "  impolite  weak 


capacity  jumbled  through  your 
sudden  surprizing  elevation  to 
a  souvring  Lordshipp  or  Heath- 
enish grace."  But  Mr  Strangh 
was  a  disappointed  man,  and 
was  about  to  sail  from  the 
Menam  aboard  of  the  Mexico 
Merchant  in  a  frenzy  of  rage. 
The  French  soldier  officer,  Des 
Fargues,  who  knew  him,  and 
was  not  his  friend,  yet  allows 
that  the  Cephalonian  had  dig- 
nity. 

In  the  days  when  he  played 
his  part,  Siam  was  a  large 
and  an  important  stage.  Its 
dominion  stretched  from  the 
Bay  of  Bengal  to  its  own  gulf, 
and  it  predominated  over  Ton- 
quin.  Burmah  had  not  yet 
deprived  it  of  the  Tenasserim 
coast.  Therefore  it  had  a  door 
open  to  the  Bay  of  Bengal  at 
the  fair  port  of  Mergei.  So 
the  Siamese  ruled  inside  and 
out  of  the  Straits  of  Malacca 
and  of  Sunda,  those  gates  of 
the  Far  Eastern  on  which  the 
Netherland  Company  laid  a 
heavy  hand.  They  traded  with 
China,  and  somewhat  with  Ja- 
pan. European  traders,  whether 
Company  or  interloper,  valued 
Siam  as  being  a  channel  or 
conduit  pipe  for  the  much- 
desired  trade  with  Japan,  now 
that  the  Togugawa  Shoguns 
had  slammed  the  door  in  the 
face  of  all  Europeans  except  a 
little  wicket  they  opened  once 
a  year  to  the  Dutch.  Those 
Dutch  sought  to  overcrow  Siam 
from  Java.  The  English  Com- 
pany had  traders  at  Mergei 
and  a  factory  at  Ayuthia.  The 
obvious  course  for  Siam  was 
to  play  one  off  against  the 


528 


The  Lord  PhaulJcon. 


[Oct. 


other,  and  Phaulkon  as  king's 
merchant,  factotum  to  the 
Phra-Klang,  and  in  time  him- 
self minister  and  favourite,  held 
the  cards.  But  the  game  was 
not  so  easy.  The  Dutch  Com- 
pany was  predominant.  The 
English  Company,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  its  troubles  with  inter- 
lopers in  the  East  and  Parlia- 
ment at  home,  was  represented 
at  Ayuthia  by  a  bear-garden. 

Dr  Anderson  has  collected 
in  his  instructive  book  all  the 
materials  for  a  truly  surprising 
picture  of  the  doings  of  a 
swarm  of  scamps.  Mr  Burne- 
bay,  Mr  Potts,  Mr  This,  and 
Mr  That — how  they  cheated 
their  employers  by  private 
trade,  swindled  one  another, 
brought  mutual  accusations  of 
debauchery,  theft,  and  arson, 
and  the  utter  failure  of  the 
Company's  efforts  to  reduce 
them  to  order, — all  these  make 
a  story  which  has  amusing 
features,  and  is  scandalous. 
Perhaps  Mr  Potts  did  sell  the 
Company's  copper  for  his  own 
profit,  and  then  report  that 
it  had  been  eaten  by  white 
ants.  Perhaps  he  did  burn 
the  "  godown  "  to  conceal  his 
misdoings  the  better.  Who  can 
tell  at  this  time  of  day  ?  It  is 
doubtful  whether  he  came  to 
Phaulkon's  house  after  dark 
meaning  murder.  He  said  he 
came  only  to  pay  for  a  barrel 
of  ale  he  had  bought  from  an 
Englishman  who  lived  there. 
The  Cephalonian  said  he  was 
loitering  with  intent,  and  put 
him  in  the  pillory.  One  cannot 
gojiinto  a  matter  of  bad  lan- 
guage and  lying  at  large.  Con- 


stantine  Phaulkon,  trained  by 
his  old  master,  George  White, 
to  hate  the  Company,  and 
seeing  for  himself  that  there 
was  no  salvation  to  be  found 
there,  looked  to  another  quar- 
ter for  an  ally  against  the 
Dutch.  He  had  manifestly 
no  dislike  to  his  old  shipmates 
the  English.  He  took  not  a 
few  of  them,  including  various 
shipmasters,  into  "  the  service 
of  the  King  of  Siam."  The 
Company  was  quite  seriously 
alarmed  at  the  prospect  that 
he  would  collect  a  cave  of 
Adullam  of  English  interlopers 
and  European  adventurers  of 
all  nationalities,  and  let  them 
loose  on  its  monopoly.  Certain 
misty  transactions,  politely 
called  a  war  with  the  Sultan 
of  Golconda,  led  to  disorders 
in  the  Bay  of  Bengal.  They 
looked  ominous,  for  Siam  was 
undoubtedly  making  a  fleet 
officered  by  English  and  other 
white  adventurers  of  the  kind 
which  is  piratically  inclined. 

Phaulkon  had  clearly  far 
too  much  sense  to  imagine 
that  he  could  beat  the  mighty 
United  Netherlands  Company 
at  the  height  of  its  power,  or 
even  the  English  Company, 
with  a  mere  collection  of  mis- 
cellaneous scoundrels.  They 
were  useful  for  the  kind  of 
work  yon  can  expect  from 
"  gens  de  sac  et  de  corde," 
but  a  stronger  ally  must  be 
found.  He  looked  for  one  in 
the  natural  quarter,  and  that 
is  why  a  career  which  might 
otherwise  have  ended  in  nothing 
in  particular  did  actually  finish 
in  a  great  international — well, 


1921.] 


The  Lord  PJiaulkon. 


529 


tragedy  is  perhaps  too  lofty  a 
word,  and  we  will  say  melo- 
drama.   Observe  that  the  one- 
time  steward's    mate,    in    his 
slippery  grandeur  in  and  about 
the  year  1680,  needed  a  strong 
backing  for  two  reasons.     In 
the  first  place,   he  must  find 
some  one  big  enough  to  face 
the  Dutch  Company — that  he 
must   do   if   only  because   his 
master,  Phra  Narai,  had  made 
him  his  "  merchant  "  and  his 
minister  for  this  very  purpose. 
And  then,  for  his  own  security, 
he  must  find  an  ally  who  would 
support   him    against   another 
and    a    dread    domestic  foe — 
the  hate  and  the  envy  of  the 
Siamese  mandarins.    The  King 
was  not,  indeed,  very  old,  but 
he  was  suffering  from  an  in- 
curable   disease.      His    favour 
might   last — but   if   he   died  ? 
And  Phaulkon  knew  the  chil- 
dren   of    the    "yellow    hell." 
He  had  no  delusion  as  to  the 
malignity   which   lay   beneath 
their     constrained     deference, 
their  grovelling  obeisances,their 
soft  manners.     He  knew  their 
capacity  for  intrigue  and  the 
fund  of  cruelty,  minute,  per- 
sistent,  and  long   drawn  out, 
which   was    covered   by   their 
gentle  politeness.     They  were 
a  feeble  folk,  and  a  cowardly. 
A  small  European  force  would 
cow  them  easily.    But  he  must 
have  some  force,  and  he  planned 
to  get  it  from  France  by  the 
help  of  the  Jesuit  missionaries. 
Whoever  looks  into  the  Far 
East  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury sees  the  Jesuits  at  once. 
He    may    not    like    what    he 
finds.    There  is  a  tone  in  their 


copious  narratives  which  sets 
the  teeth  on  edge.  One  has 
to  go  to  the  French  language 
for  the  proper  adjective,  which 
is  "  chattemite."  They  purr 
and  tread  demurely  on  velvet 
paws.  The  twang  of  the  semi- 
nary is  too  perceptible.  When, 
for  instance,  le  Pere  Tachard 
records  how  on  their  way  to 
Siam,  he  and  his  brethren 
came  to  a  place  where  certain 
Huguenots  massacred  several 
Jesuits,  and  proceeds  to  assure 
us  in  a  gush  of  smiling  devo- 
tion that  they  all  wept  to 
think  that  they  had  not  yet 
been  thought  worthy  of  mar- 
tyrdom, but  still  beamed  in 
hope  that  they  would  at  last 
be  rewarded  by  the  crown,  we 
are  tempted  to  scoff  at  the 
affectation.  We  are  unjust. 
The  mincing  graces  of  the 
Jesuit  style  did  cover  a  won- 
derful devotion.  Those  men 
did  go  to  all  but  certain  death, 
and  did  rejoice  in  the  flames 
of  martyrdom  with  undeniable 
valour,  even  though  they  also 
played  to  a  pious  gallery.  As 
for  their  cleverness,  who  dis- 
putes it  ?  As  to  wisdom,  that 
is  another  matter.  We  shall 
see  what  it  amounted  to  in 
Siam. 

Since  M.  de  Ehodes  began 
in  Tonquin  in  1660,  the  Jesuits 
had  overflowed  into  Siam.  It 
was  a  hopeful  mission,  and  was 
eagerly  forwarded  by  the  Pope 
and  the  Devout  Party  in 
France.  Priests  were  sent,  and 
bishops  of  Berytus  and  of 
Metallopolis  in  partibus.  All 
seemed  to  go  well.  The  King, 
we  may  be  sure,  never  had  the 


530 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


[Oct. 


least    intention    to    desert    his 
native  Buddhism.    He  did  not 
conceal  his   surprise   that  the 
King  of  France  was  so  eager 
for  his  conversion.    But  he  ap- 
pears,  like   some   of   his    suc- 
cessors, to  have  been  a  man  of 
not    a   little   intellectual   curi- 
osity, with  a  taste  for  astron- 
omy,   open-minded,    ready   to 
listen,  and  to  look  at  the  ideas 
of  other  people.     Moreover,  he 
wanted  the  help  of  France,  and 
the   world   was   not   so   large, 
nor   Siam   so    shut   out    from 
the   chance   of   knowing   what 
was  going  on  in  it,  that  Phra 
Narai  and  his  counsellors  were 
condemned  to  be  ignorant  of 
certain  essential  facts.     They 
knew  as  well  as  anybody  that 
Louis  XIV.  had  tried  to  de- 
stroy the  Dutch  Eepublic,  and 
hated  the  Dutch.     They  also 
knew  that  he  chose  his  con- 
fessor from  among  the  Jesuits, 
and    favoured    the   Company. 
It   was   a   plain   case.     Over- 
tures could  be  made  to  France 
through  the  Jesuits,  who  would 
use   their   influence   to   secure 
a    friendly    hearing.      If    the 
King   of   France,   deeply   con- 
cerned  as   he   was   known   to 
be  to  promote  the  spread  of 
true  religion,  could  be  drawn 
to    listen,    then    his    effective 
help  against  the  Dutch  would 
be  the  more  likely  to  be  given 
to    a    country    which    treated 
the     Jesuits     with     liberality. 
There  began  a  story  of  Siamese 
missions  which  were  drowned 
on   the   way   to   France,    and 
others    which    reached    Paris, 
and   of   French    embassies    to 
Siam.     Dr  Johnson  said  that 


none  were  sent  by  the  King  of 
France,  but  there  were  times 
when  the  Doctor,  talking  for 
victory,  would  say  anything. 

Apart  from  the  great  cause 
of    the    advancement    of    the 
Holy  Eoman  Catholic  and  ap- 
ostolic  religion,   there    was    a 
secular  reason  why  a  favour- 
able    and    attentive     hearing 
should  be  given  in  Paris  to  the 
advances  of  Siam.    The  French 
East  India  Company,  founded 
in  1664,  had  not  been  success- 
ful.   It  was  not  allowed  to  be 
composed  of  business  men  work- 
ing on  business  principles.    The 
King  intended  it  to  be  a  tool 
in   his   hand  to   be   employed 
to   political  ends.    Then,  too, 
it    was    "  controlled "    by   the 
"  great  "  Colbert,  and  he  was 
the    model    of    a    doctrinaire, 
fussy,  and  tyrannical  bureau- 
crat.   But  even  if  the  Company 
had  been  better  composed,  and 
had  been  left   free,   it   would 
have  been  at  a  disadvantage. 
By  1664  the  Dutch  and  Eng- 
lish  companies  had  taken  all 
the  best  places,  and  were  work- 
ing the  great  trade  routes  of 
the    East — from    the    Bab-el- 
Mandeb,    and    the    Straits    of 
Ormuz,    down     the     Malabar 
coast,   round   Ceylon,   up    the 
Bay   of   Bengal,   through   the 
Straits  of  Malacca  and  Sunda 
to    the    China    Seas — with    an 
organisation  of  factors,  ships, 
and  trading  ports,  and  an  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  the  condi- 
tions   such    as    no    new-comer 
could  hope  to  possess.    But  if 
France  could  win  a  firm  foot- 
ing in  a  central  position  the 
case  would  be  altered.    Siam, 


1921.] 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


531 


itself  a  territory  of  consider- 
able size,  with  the  Mergei  door 
to  the  Bay  of  Bengal  on  the 
west,  and  Bangkok  on  the 
way  to  China  inside  Malacca 
to  the  east,  was  just  the 
"  basis  of  operations  "  to  be 
desired.  So  the  Company 
founded  by  Ignatius  Loyola, 
and  the  other  Company  founded 
by  Colbert,  had  the  best  of 
reasons  for  going  a-hunting 
together.  And  there  were  a 
few  minor  things  and  persons 
worth  noting.  Siam  had  been 
a  place  of  refuge  to  Malays 
driven  into  exile  by  endless 
bloodthirsty  feuds,  and  to  Ja- 
panese Christians  fleeing  from 
persecution.  The  Malays,  com- 
monly known  as  the  "  Mac- 
assars," were  a  dangerous  ele- 
ment, being  Mohametans,  and 
therefore  not  amenable  to  Bud- 
dhism or  Christian  persuasion, 
and,  moreover,  hideously  liable 
to  "  run  amok,"  when  they 
slaughtered  all  they  met  with 
their  savage  "  krisses."  The 
Japanese,  until  the  Togugawa 
Shoguns  stopped  all  emigra- 
tion, had  been  the  best  mer- 
cenary soldiers  of  the  Far 
East.  The  exiles  in  Siam  were 
quite  open  to  Jesuit  influence, 
and  they  had  not  lost  their 
fighting  spirit.  Laying  the 
head  of  the  sow  to  the  tail 
of  the  grice,  as  our  excellent 
Dalgetty  might  have  put  it, 
good  friends  would  not  be 
lacking,  if  only  a  good  plot 
could  be  shaped.  The  Jesuits 
and  Phaulkon  set  their  wits 
to  work  to  provide  the  needful 
scheme. 

They  began  with  a  conver- 


sion, and  Phaulkon  had  no 
difficulty  in  providing  one  to 
start  with.  He  was  converted 
himself.  Father  Tachard  re- 
cords in  his  demure  '  Edifying 
Letter '  prose,  that  as  the 
Cephalonian  had  left  his  coun- 
try in  early  boyhood,  when 
his  convictions  were  not  yet 
settled,  he  had  been  misled 
into  the  heretical  paths  of 
English  Protestantism.  In 
1684,  and  in  the  maturity  of 
his  judgment,  he  was  brought 
back  to  the  true  path  by  the 
guidingl  hands  of  the  Jesuits. 
It  was  well  for  him  to  be  sure, 
and  not  the  least  because 
nothing  pleased  Louis  XIV. 
better  than  a  victory  of  ortho- 
doxy over  heretical  pravity. 
The  King  would  be  told,  of 
course,  and  so  probably  was 
our  James  II.,  who  wrote 
kindly  to  Phaulkon,  and  ac- 
cepted a  present  from  him. 
Politics  may  have  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  another  step 
taken  by  the  Seigneur  Con- 
stance. He  married  a  Chris- 
tian Japanese  ' '  Princess . ' '  We 
may  have  our  doubts  as  to  the 
rank  of  the  lady.  But  perhaps 
she  did  come  of  a  daimyo 
family.  There  were  many  of 
them  among  the  Japanese  Chris- 
tians. Princess  or  no  princess, 
she  was  a  loyal  and  spirited 
little  woman,  who  helped  her 
lord  bravely,  and  endured  the 
long  years  of  miserable  slavery, 
which  her  grand  marriage 
brought  her  at  the  end,  with 
a  stout  heart. 

Tachard  had  come  out  with 
the  first  French  mission  sent 
to  Siam.  It  had  been  urgently 


532 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


[Oct. 


promoted  by  the  missionaries 
already  in  the  country.  These 
good  men  were  as  credulous 
as  their  like  were  showing 
themselves  to  be  in  other  coun- 
tries on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  world.  They  were  con- 
vinced, and  they  persuaded 
Louis  XIV.  that  the  King  of 
Siam  was  only  waiting  to  be 
asked  by  so  potent  a  sovereign 
as  le  Grand  Monarque  before 
declaring  himself  a  Christian, 
of  course  of  the  orthodox  pat- 
tern. The  flattery  poured  on 
the  King  of  France  and  Na- 
varre in  all  their  narratives  is 
not  only  copious  but  mawkish. 
We  need  not  suppose  that 
this  confidence  of  theirs  was 
merely  assumed.  No  doubt 
they  did  believe  that  if  the 
King  came  over  to  them  he 
would  bring  his  people  behind 
him.  A  little  help  in  dealing 
with  interested  persons  who 
chose  to  be  recalcitrant  might 
be  needed,  but  a  very  little 
would  do.  The  French  Am- 
bassador, M.  le  Chevalier  de 
Chaumont,  was  manifestly  of 
that  way  of  thinking.  He 
wanted  to  begin  by  calling  on 
Phra  Narai  to  confess  the  faith 
at  once.  We  are  not  surprised 
to  be  told  that  he  received  "  a 
cooling  card,"  in  the  Eliza- 
bethan sense,  from  Constantine 
Phaulkon  himself.  The  astute 
Ionian  knew  better  than  that. 
The  lives  of  Phra  Narai  and 
of  other  persons,  including  M. 
I'ambassadeur,  would  not  have 
lasted  long,  not  more  than  a 
few  hours,  if  the  request  had 
been  made  and  agreed  to.  M. 
de  Chaumont  was  superior  to 


fears.  He  would  say  what  he 
thought  ought  to  be  said.  It 
behoved  Phaulkon  to  see  that 
no  harm  followed  —  and  he 
had  no  difficulty  in  averting 
trouble.  M.  de  Chaumont  de- 
livered his  address  to  Phra 
Narai  in  French.  His  dignity 
required  that  he  should,  and 
the  only  alternative  was  Latin. 
Phaulkon,  who  acted  as  in- 
terpreter for  Siamese,  did  not 
know  French.  He  communi- 
cated with  his  Jesuit  friends 
in  Portuguese.  So  the  speech 
was  first  translated  to  him  by 
a  Jesuit,  and  he  then  inter- 
preted it  into  Siamese.  What 
exactly  became  of  M.  de  Chau- 
mont's  meaning  in  the  course 
of  this  double  distillation  is  a 
question  to  which  no  confident 
answer  can  be  given.  The 
leakage  was  certainly  large. 

M.  de  Chaumont  went  away, 
and  reached  Brest  on  18th 
June  1686,  without  bringing 
news  of  the  conversion  of  the 
King  of  Siam.  But  he  brought 
a  request  to  the  French  mon- 
arch for  armed  support 
against  the  Dutch — and  inci- 
dentally, though  nothing  pre- 
cise was  said  on  that  point, 
against  his  subjects.  This  is 
not  the  only  occasion  on  which 
the  great  and  wonderful  revolu- 
tion in  Siam  touches  the  other 
contemporary  outburst  pretty 
closely.  Phra  Narai  was  not 
at  all  like  King  Charles  II., 
but  his  position  was  similar  in 
a  grotesque  way  ;  and  as  Gib- 
bon is  there  to  teach  us,  "  simi- 
lar manners  will  naturally  be 
produced  by  similar  situations." 
Perhaps  we  may  acquit  the 


1921.] 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


533 


poor  sickly  Siamese  King,  and 
give  the  adventurers  and  in- 
triguers about  him  the  dis- 
credit of  having  elaborated 
their  copy  of  the  Treaty  of 
Dover.  M.  de  Chaumont  left 
arms  and  a  few  Frenchmen 
behind  him  to  drill  native  sol- 
diers. One  of  these  agents 
of  the  Jesuit-French  plot  was 
that  Chevalier  de  Forbin  whom 
we  came  to  know  during  the 
wars  of  King  William  and 
Queen  Anne.  His  memoirs 
may  be  consulted  for  events 
in  Siam  at  that  time,  and 
particularly  for  an  account  of 
the  great  running  amok  of  the 
Macassars  at  Bangkok.  The 
picture  is  lively,  and,  in  general, 
true  enough  to  the  spirit  of  the 
thing.  But  Forbin  was  not  a 
gentleman  to  be  absolutely 
relied  on  to  tell  stories  with  a 
precise  regard  to  truth.  It  is 
safer  to  trust  George  White's 
brother  Samuel,  who  was  in 
the  country,  and  who  tells  a 
plain  tale.  The  Macassars, 
who  were  the  natural  allies 
of  the  "  Moor  "  or  Mahome- 
tan traders,  mostly  Malays,  like 
themselves,  had  been  roused 
by  all  this  busy  agitation  of 
the  missionaries,  and  the  com- 
ing and  going  of  French  en- 
voys, together  with  the  pres- 
ence of  Forbin  and  other  for- 
eign Christian  officers.  So, 
indeed,  were  the  Dutch  and 
English  Companies,  which  were 
threatening  war.  The  coalition 
brought  about  by  Phaulkon 
and  his  Jesuit  associates  was 
a  menace  to  them  all.  If  they 
had  acted  together  the  events 
of  1688  would  have  been  fore- 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXXTI. 


stalled,  but  that  they  could  not 
do.  "  Moors  "  and  Macas- 
sars hated  all  Christians  alike, 
and,  moreover,  they  were  hys- 
terical, bloodthirsty  Malays. 
They  plotted  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Ayuthia,  but  they 
talked  too  much,  and  there 
were  traitors  among  them. 
Phaulkon  was  warned  in  time, 
and  he  struck  first.  Their 
enterprise  at  the  capital  broke 
down,  and  then,  just  as  we 
guess  to  get  rid  of  them  on  the 
easiest  terms,  they  were  pro- 
mised a  "tara,"  a  permit  to 
leave  the  country  by  way  of 
the  Menam  river  and  Bangkok. 
They  went  down-stream,  but 
the  result  shows  that  nothing 
less  was  meant  than  to  allow 
them  to  escape  from  the  coun- 
try. An  order  was  sent  to 
Forbin,  who  commanded  the 
fort  and  the  drilled  Siamese 
at  Bangkok,  to  stop  them.  And 
then  the  devil  came  among 
them,  having  great  wrath.  The 
Macassars  ran  amok,  and  there 
took  place  a  murder  great  and 
grim.  Multitudes  of  "  Siam- 
mers  "  were  hacked  to  death 
by  Malay  krisses,  and  several 
British  skippers  and  seamen 
who  were  helping  them  died 
an  evil  death.  For  the  fury 
and  rage  of  this  frantic  explo- 
sion, Forbin  is  to  be  consulted 
— not  for  more.  In  the  end 
the  Macassars  perished,  as 
Berserks  would  have  chosen 
to  end,  under  "  sword  sated 
heaps  of  the  slain." 

One  enemy  was  disposed  of, 
but  the  lesson  was  sharp.  The 
need  of  help  from  France  was 
as  great  as  ever,  and  it  must 

TJ  2 


534 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


[Oct. 


come  quickly.  Phaulkon  and 
his  allies  must  have  been  sen- 
sibly relieved  when,  in  1687, 
at  the  very  close  of  the  war, 
a  French  squadron  under  M.  de 
Vaudricourt  reached  Bangkok, 
bringing  a  detachment  of  troops 
commanded  by  M.  des  Fargues. 
He  has  been  absurdly  called  a 
Marshal  of  France.  He  was  at 
the  outside  a  Mare"chal  de 
Camp,  or  Major-General. 

It  was  now  or  never.  Phra 
Narai  was  bedridden,  and  from 
him  there  would  come  neither 
help  nor  hindrance.  He  had 
no  son,  but  the  heir  he  had 
chosen  was  a  convert  of  the 
Jesuits.  With  the  actual  king 
helpless,  with  the  heir  to  the 
throne  on  their  side,  with 
French  troops  to  hold  Bangkok 
and  Mergei,  the  plotters  flat- 
tered themselves  that  they  had 
the  kingdom  in  their  hands. 
A  whole  realm  was  to  be  won 
for  true  Christianity.  Millions 
of  converts  would  be  added  to 
the  roll  of  Jesuit  triumphs. 
France  would  have  an  Empire 
in  the  Far  East,  from  which 
Dutch  and  English  competition 
would  be  excluded,  and  Con- 
stantine  Phaulkon,  adorned  with 
the  collar  of  St  Michael,  just 
sent  him  by  Louis  le  Grand, 
with  a  patent  of  nobility  and 
a  title,  would  be  the  necessary 
managing  man,  safe  at  last 
and  opulent  for  ever.  At  that 
very  moment  the  trap-door 
opened. 

In  the  fourth  chapter  of  the 
second  book  of  his  admirable 
memoirs,  Colonel  Esmond 
makes  some  true  remarks  on 
the  futility  of  the  schemes  of 


the  Jesuits,  "  the  most  toil- 
some and  dexterous  plot- 
builders  in  the  world."  He 
had  the  great  and  wonderful 
revolution  in  his  mind,  no 
doubt,  as  well  as  others.  It 
was  much  talked  of  in  his  day, 
and  the  revolution  of  June 
1688  at  Ayuthia  was  too  good 
a  case  in  point  to  be  quite 
ignored.  The  Company  and 
their  friend,  le  Seigneur  Con- 
stance, had  apparently  pro- 
vided for  everything  except  the 
princes,  mandarins,  and  people 
of  Siam.  They  were  not  a 
martial  race  nor  one  of  strong 
mind.  But,  after  all,  they 
were  a  people  with  a  language, 
a  religion,  a  political  and  social 
order  acceptable  to  them.  They 
could  not  be  supposed,  except 
by  besotted  schemers,  to  be 
likely  to  stand  idly  aside  while 
an  adventurer  from  an  island 
they  had  never  heard  of  and 
a  handful  of  foreign  priests 
treated  them  as  clay  in  the 
hands  of  the  potter.  When 
they  saw  one  French  detach- 
ment occupy  the  fort  at  Bang- 
kok, and  another  cross  the 
western  watershed  of  the  Me- 
nam  to  plant  itself  at  Mergei, 
they  too  began  to  see  that  it 
was  now  or  never.  The  Dutch 
factors  were  zealous  to  en- 
lighten them.  Nor  did  they 
lack  a  leader,  Phra-Phet-Eaxa, 
a  fighting  mandarin  and  general- 
issimo. The  narrative  which 
is  credited  to  M.  des  Fargues 
alleges  that  Phaulkon  was 
warned  against  this  man,  but 
replied  that  he  was  too  great 
a  fool  to  be  dangerous/'-*?  If  so 
he  only  showed  how  a  clever 


1921.] 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


535 


fellow  who  has  given  his  wits 
up  to  be  driven  by  a  fixed 
idea  can  himself  play  the  fool. 
Phra-Phet-Eaxa  was  very  dan- 
gerous by  virtue  of  his  com- 
mand of  such  armed  forces  as 
Siam  possessed,  and  by  his 
character.  He  smiled  and 
smiled,  was  deferential  to  hu- 
mility, the  while  he  was  making 
ready  to  act.  And  as  he  was, 
so  were  the  other  mandarins. 
They  hated  the  foreign  upstart 
while  they  cringed  to  him,  and 
their  rage  was  bitter  as  they 
saw  him  distribute  costly  pres- 
ents to  French  agents.  Phaul- 
kon— the  Jesuits  are  his  wit- 
nesses— was  un  seigneur  magni- 
fique,  a  profuse  lord  with  the 
wealth  he  scraped  together  by 
favour  of  the  king.  It  was 
all  so  much  diverted  from 
them. 

If  the  conspirators  had  had 
less  cleverness  and  more  sense, 
they  would  not  have  put  them- 
selves in  a  position  to  come  to 
grief  as  they  now  did.  They 
had  tempted  the  French  king 
to  enter  into  the  adventure  by 
telling  him  that  it  was  so  safe 
and  easy  that  little  support 
would  be  needed.  Therefore 
M.  des  Fargues  brought  but  a 
few  hundred  men  with  him. 
They  would  not  have  been 
enough  even  if  all  who  left 
France  had  reached  Bangkok. 
But  there  had  been  losses  on 
the  way,  as  there  always  were 
in  tropical  voyages  and  on 
overcrowded  sailing-ships.  The 
men  had  not  been  picked  to 
begin  with,  and  they  landed 
already  weakened.  In  a  few 
days  they  began  to  go  down 


in  swaths  before  the  climate 
of  Siam.  Then,  too,  since  so 
little  was  needed,  it  had  not 
been  thought  necessary  to  order 
the  ships  to  remain  on  the 
coast.  They  sailed  away  for 
home,  and  before  they  anchored 
at  Brest,  the  whole  card-castle 
had  collapsed  in  a  puddle  of 
blood.  Phra-Phet-Eaxa  may 
have  been  no  hero,  but  he  had 
sense  enough  to  understand 
that  two  handfuls  of  unhealthy 
Frenchmen,  separated  from  one 
another  by  hundreds  of  miles, 
were  quite  enough  to  be  a 
warning  of  what  might  in  time 
come,  but  were  not  nearly 
enough  to  coerce  him.  He  went 
roundly  to  work,  and  had  but 
to  put  his  hand  out  to  prostrate 
his  enemy. 

At  the  head  of  a  few  hun- 
dred men  he  forced  his  way 
into  the  palace,  where  the 
servants  and  officials  would, 
as  things  stood,  be  his  allies. 
He  went  straight  to  the  royal 
bedroom  where  Phra  Narai  lay 
dying,  and  his  heir  sitting  with 
him.  The  successor-designate 
was  dragged  out  in  spite  of  the 
pitiful  appeals  of  the  poor  king, 
and  butchered  in  the  passage. 
To  him  the  crown  of  martyr- 
dom desired  by  his  Jesuit 
teachers  came  early.  Then  a 
summons  was  sent  in  the  king's 
name  to  Phaulkon.  Suspecting 
nothing,  or  if  he  did  suspect,  as 
perhaps  he  did,  then  thinking 
that  the  boldest  course  was 
the  best,  he  came  accompanied 
by  a  few  Frenchmen.  No 
sooner  was  he  in  the  palace 
than  Phra-Phet-Eaxa  seized 
him  by  the  arm  and  arrested 


536 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


[Oct. 


him  as  a  traitor.  The  French- 
men, so  says  M.  des  Fargues, 
asked  if  he  wished  them  to  do 
anything  for  him.  What  could 
a  dozen  or  so  of  men  with 
side-arms  only  do  against  hun- 
dreds of  armed  Siamese,  of 
whom  many  carried  guns  ? 
Phaulkon,  who  now  and  to  the 
end  bore  himself  manfully,  told 
them  to  provide  for  their  own 
safety.  He  had  played  a  dan- 
gerous game  for  a  great  stake, 
and  had  lost.  There  was  noth- 
ing for  it  but  to  pay  like  a  bold 
gamester. 

It  is  not  good  to  look  at  the 
details  of  what  followed.  We 
know  how  victor  treats  van- 
quished in  I'enfer  jaune.  There 
was  the  inevitable  story  of 
missionaries  imprisoned  and 
brutally  ill-used,  of  princes 
and  princesses,  their  converts, 
put  in  bags  and  beaten  to 
death  with  clubs.  Phaulkon, 
after  being  put  to  the  torture 
to  make  him  reveal  hidden 
treasures,  was  cut  to  pieces, 
and  what  had  been  a  man 
was  cast  into  the  river.  Yet 
before  he  died  he  was  allowed 
to  give  his  cross  of  St  Michael 
and  a  few  trinkets  to  a  trusty 
hand  for  the  son  borne  him 
by  his  Japanese  wife.  Of  all 
the  victims  of  her  husband's 
plot,  she  is  the  one  we  sym- 
pathise with  most.  She  took 
refuge,  bringing  her  son  with 
her,  at  Bangkok  in  the  fort. 
If  M.  des  Fargues  is  not  grossly 
belied  by  his  own  countrymen, 
he  gave  the  two  up  to  Phra- 
Phet-Eaxa,  so  that  he  might 
make  better  terms  for  himself. 
They  also  accuse  him  of  hav- 


ing lined  his  own  pockets  richly 
during  the  short  time  he  was 
in  Siam.  The  new  master — 
for,  of  course,  Phra-Phet-Eaxa 
took  the  kingdom — was  con- 
tent to  reduce  her  to  slavery 
in  the  kitchen  of  his  palace. 
Both  French  garrisons,  or  what 
remained  of  them,  were  able 
to  take  ship  and  get  away. 
They  allege  that  the  Dutch 
helped  the  Siamese.  Of  course 
they  did.  Were  they  to  allow 
the  French,  their  worst  enemies, 
to  shut  them  out  of  Siam,  and 
plant  themselves  strongly  in 
front  of  Java  ?  Were  they  to 
help  the  Jesuits,  just  at  the 
time  when  the  ^Revocation  of 
the  Edict  of  Nantes  showed 
what  they  and  their  co-reli- 
gionists had  to  expect  from 
such  neighbours,  to  settle  at 
the  very  gate  of  their  Indies  ? 
They  had  not  much  to  do — only 
to  lend  a  few  guns  with  their 
gunners,  and  a  supply  of  gun- 
powder. So  much  they  did, 
and  that  was  why,  when  the 
King  of  the  Eevolution  ex- 
pelled all  other  foreigners,  he 
allowed  the  Dutch  to  remain. 
The  French  and  the  Jesuits 
had  worked  for  the  King  of 
Prussia,  if  we  may  antedate  a 
significant  phrase  of  later  times. 
One  really  cannot  sympathise 
with  the  Company  of  Jesus. 
It  brought  its  misfortunes  on 
itself  by  its  mania  for  grab- 
bing at  power,  its  unscrupu- 
lous readiness  to  use  Chris- 
tianity as  a  cloak  for  palace 
intrigue  and  the  pursuit  of 
gain  for  itself.  The  Jesuits 
allow  that  they  were  kindly 
treated  in  Siam.  Why  could 


1921.] 


The  Lord  Phaulkon. 


537 


they  not  be  content  to  preach, 
to  convert,  and  to  "  tarry  the 
grinding  "  ?  Because  they  must 
rule.  Because  they  had  learnt 
nothing  from  the  terrible  lesson 
given  them  in  Japan.  Because 
they  had  forgotten  nothing  of 
all  their  delusions.  And  they 
went  on  neither  learning  nor 
forgetting,  till  they  brought 
Pombal  and  Aranda  and  sup- 
pression by  the  Pope  down 
upon  themselves.  Neither  can 
one  weep  for  the  magnificent 
Seigneur  Constance.  Men  who 
play  at  bowls  must  look  out 
for  rubbers.  He  chose  to  play 
a  very  perilous  form  of  the 
game,  and  he  disregarded  the 
lessons  which  ought  to  have 
been  as  instructive  to  him  as 


to  the  Jesuits.  And  there 
are  two  of  La  Eochefoucauld's 
maxims  which  apply  to  them 
both  :  "  Le  vrai  moyen  d'etre 
trompe",  c'est  de  se  croire  plus 
fin  que  les  autres,"  and,  "  On 
est  quelquefois  un  sot  avec  de 
1'esprit ;  mais  on  ne  Test  jamais 
avec  du  jugement."  They 
thought  themselves  cleverer 
than  anybody,  and  clever  they 
were.  Their  judgment  was 
defective.  So,  in  a  general 
way,  Constantino  Phaulkon 
will  always  be  worth  looking 
at  as  a  type — and  he  is  un- 
doubtedly a  notable  personage 
among  the  Europeans  who 
figured  during  the  seventeenth 
century  in  the  Far  East. 

DAVID  HANNAY. 


538 


[Oct. 


IN   CAMP   IN  A  CEYLON  JUNGLE. 


I. 


THE  District  Bevenue  Offi- 
cer was  making  one  of  the 
"  tours  of  inspection  "  in  which 
he  managed  to  combine  sport 
and  work  in  a  manner  satis- 
factory to  himself  and  appa- 
rently to  most  of  the  natives 
of  the  district  through  which 
he  went.  The  Planter  and  I 
were  accompanying  him,  merely 
for  sport,  with  no  pretence  of 
business.  The  time  was  Easter, 
and  the  place,  a  strip  of  the 
east  coast  of  Ceylon  far  from 
civilisation. 

During  our  progress,  we  had 
arranged  to  halt  for  the  night 
at  a  certain  little  village.  We 
were  much  surprised  on  reach- 
ing it,  about  an  hour  before 
sundown,  to  find  a  vast  con- 
course of  people  collected  there. 
In  such  a  remote  spot,  so 
large  a  crowd  pointed  to  some 
local  excitement  of  more  than 
usual  interest.  Our  camp  was 
pitched  outside  the  village,  and 
the  E.O.  went  off  at  once  to  see 
what  was  happening. 

He  came  back  with  the  news 
that  a  "  fire-walking "  cere- 
mony was  just  about  to  take 
place,  and  that  the  conductor 
of  the  ceremony  had  extended 
a  cordial  invitation  to  the  E.O. 
and  his  friends  to  come  and 
see  it. 

Here  was  a  piece  of  luck  ! 
We  lost  no  time  in  going  to 
the  spot,  which  was  close  to 
the  village  tank,  on  a  flat 


uncultivated  padi  field.  A  pit 
about  six  feet  wide  and  twenty 
feet  long  had  been  dug  in  the 
middle  of  the  field.  The  pit 
was  full  of  glowing  wood  ashes  ; 
and  so  fierce  was  their  heat 
that  the  place  reserved  for  us 
to  view  the  ceremony  was  very 
unpleasantly  warm.  There 
were  three  or  four  attendants 
constantly  at  work  on  the 
fire,  alternately  fanning  the 
ashes,  sprinkling  them  with 
water,  and  beating  them  down 
with  long  poles.  At  short  in- 
tervals these  men  were  obliged 
to  refresh  themselves  by  pour- 
ing water  from  chatties  over 
their  heads  and  bodies.  They 
found  the  heat  quite  unbear- 
able for  any  length  of  time. 

At  each  end  of  the  pit,  and 
at  some  distance  away  from 
it,  a  hut  had  been  erected,  in 
which  the  performers  appa- 
rently were  being  made  ready 
for  the  ceremony.  After  a 
while  four  natives  stepped  out 
from  one  of  these  huts — naked 
except  for  their  loin-cloths. 
First,  they  walked  in  single 
file  slowly  round  the  fire,  when 
water,  mixed  apparently  with 
turmeric,  was  poured  over 
them.  They  then  walked  round 
again,  and  suddenly  their  leader 
seemed  to  become  "  possessed": 
he  began  dancing  and  swaying 
about,  kicking  up  his  heels 
and  waving  his  arms  with  the 
utmost  abandon,  while  his  three 


1921.] 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


539 


followers  continued  to  walk 
round  the  fire  in  a  dazed  con- 
dition. After  three  or  four 
rounds,  and  more  water-pour- 
ing, a  fifth  man  appeared  from 
one  of  the  huts,  and  led  the 
party  of  devotees  off  to  the 
tank,  where  they  stayed  for 
some  time. 

I  could  not  see  what  hap- 
pened there  ;  presumably  they 
bathed  in  the  tank,  as  they 
returned  dripping  with  water. 
Their  leader  then  slowly  ad- 
vanced to  the  edge  of  the  pit, 
and  prostrated  himself  before 
it,  bowing  his  head  right  down 
to  the  glowing  embers.  At 
one  moment  I  thought  he  was 
going  to  take  a  header  into 
the  fiery  furnace.  After  mak- 
ing three  profound  salaams, 
he  got  up  and  walked  quite 
slowly  over  the  pit.  His  fol- 
lowers went  over  after  him, 
but  without  making  any  obei- 
sance. The  last  of  them,  a 
mere  lad,  collapsed  as  soon  as 
he  was  well  clear  of  the  pit, 
and  had  to  be  supported  in 
his  walk  back  to  the  hut. 

I  should  have  liked  to  ex- 
amine the  men  afterwards,  to 
see  whether  any  of  them  were 
badly  burnt.  Hard  as  a  na- 
tive's feet  undoubtedly  are,  I 
could  not  believe  that  these  de- 
votees had  passed  over  the  fire 
scathless.  Possibly  they  were 
drugged,  and  doubtless  some 
preparation  had  been  rubbed 
into  their  skin  to  counteract 
the  heat  of  the  fire  ;  but  even 
so,  it  was  little  short  of  a 
miracle  to  witness. 

We  discussed  the  ceremony 
after  dinner  that  evening,  and 


I  asked  the  B.O,  what  was 
the  reason  of  it,  and  whether 
it  was  of  common  occurrence. 
"  Not  at  all  common,"  he 
replied.  "  It  takes  place  at 
Batticaloa,  for  example,  at  the 
time  of  the  Amirtakali  Festi- 
val. ^People  go  through  the 
ceremony  to  acquire  merit,  to 
prove  their  goodness,  or  as 
the  result  of  a  challenge.  It 
is  not  necessarily  an  annual 
event.  As  you  probably  know, 
the  origin  of  the  ceremony  is 
said  to  date  back  to  the  days 
of  Eama  and  Sita.  After  Sita 
had  been  rescued  from  the 
clutches  of  Ravana,  the  ogre, 
who  carried  her  off  to  Ceylon, 
to  prove  her  chastity  she 
walked  through  the  fire.  Pious 
Hindus  still  keep  up  the  prac- 
tice in  a  few  out-of-the-way 
places.  I  learned  that  to-day's 
ceremony  was  the  result  of  a 
quarrel  over  some  transaction 
between  two  influential  vil- 
lagers. One,  I  suppose,  called 
the  other  a  liar,  and  the  in- 
sulted man,  to  prove  his  in- 
tegrity, declared  that  his  three 
sons  should  walk  through  the 
fire — a  vicarious  form  of  re- 
habilitation !  However,  all  the 
parties,  including  the  sons  who 
have  '  acquired  merit,'  are  now 
thoroughly  satisfied  with  them- 
selves, while  the  villagers — 
and  ourselves  —  have  had  a 
cheap  entertainment.  The 
leader  of  the  party  was,  of 
course,  a  professional  fire- 
walker." 

"  Couldn't  you  get  hold  of 
him  t  "  I  suggested.  "  He 
would  be  an  interesting  man 
to  meet." 


540 


In  Gamp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


[Oct. 


"  I  don't  think  it's  any  use 
to  try  now.  He  is  probably 
sleeping  off  the  effects  of  his 
exertions,  if  not  of  the  drags 
which  I  suspect  he  takes.  We 
might  try  to  find  him  in  the 
morning." 

(But,  alas !  when  morning 
came  the  fire- walker  was  found 
to  have  left  the  village.  Even 
if  he  would  not  have  answered 
all  the  questions  I  was  eager 
to  put  to  him,  I  should  have 
liked  to  take  a  closer  look  at 
him.  His  hide  must  have  been 
like  asbestos.) 

"  Do  the  fire-walkers  never 
burn  themselves  to  death,  or 
injure  themselves  incurably  ?  " 
asked  the  Planter. 

"  I  never  heard  of  a  devotee 
coming  to  grief.  You  see,  the 
pit  is  not  a  large  one  ;  and  they 
very  often  pass  over  with  a 
sort  of  hop,  skip,  anc}  jump. 
This  evening's  ceremony  was 
by  far  the  most  impressive  I 
have  ever  seen,  both  from  the 
unusual  size  of  the  pit,  and 
the  slowness  with  which  they 
passed  over  it.  If  they  ever 
do  hurt  themselves,  they  keep 
it  pretty  dark.  Sometimes 
their  hearts  fail  them  at  the 
last  minute.  I  remember  once 
a  professional  fire-walker  came 
to  a  jungle  village  farther  up 
north,  and  announced  that  on 
a  certain  day  he  would  walk 
through  the  fire  if  the  villagers 
would  put  up  a  substantial 
purse  for  him.  I  was  in  the 
district  at  the  time,  and  hap- 
pened to  be  in  camp  not  far 
from  the  place  where  the  cere- 
money  was  to  be  performed. 
On  the  appointed  day  the  fire 


was  prepared,  but  the  fire- 
walker's  courage  gave  out.  To 
excuse  himself,  he  said  he  had 
received  orders  from  Govern- 
ment forbidding  the  ceremony 
as  being  too  dangerous.  He 
kept  the  "  purse,"  however — 
and  made  tracks.  The  villagers 
then  came  to  me  to  complain 
of  my  order,  and  to  ask  for  the 
return  of  their  money.  I  ex- 
plained that  I  had  given  no 
such  order,  and  that  the  man 
was  a  humbug.  I  tried  to 
catch  him,  but  he  made  his 
escape.  But,  as  I've  said,  I 
never  heard  of  any  accidents  ; 
even  the  boy  who  collapsed 
this  evening  is  said  now  to  be 
all  right." 

"  I  remember  now,"  said 
the  Planter,  "  my  brother  in 
India  told  me  he  was  once  at  a 
big  tamasha  given  by  a  native 
potentate,  when  part  of  the 
entertainment  was  an  exhibi- 
tion of  fire-walking  by  men 
who  claimed  a  hereditary  power 
of  treading  fire  unhurt.  They 
walked  along  a  ditch  filled 
with  live  coals  or  something 
of  the  kind,  and  were  none  the 
worse.  Then  the  potentate 
said  they  were  humbugging, 
and  any  one  could  do  it,  and 
insisted  upon  one  of  his  own 
servants  following  suit.  The 
poor  devil  came  out  of  the  ditch 
with  the  soles  of  his  feet  half 
burned  away." 

"  India  for  the  Indians  !  " 
muttered  the  E.O.  "Is  that 
a  sample  of  what  they  may  ex- 
pect from  their  own  rulers  ?  " 

"And  the  joke  of  it  is," 
added  the  Planter,  "  that  the 
potentate  in  question  comes 


1921.]  In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle.  541 

over  to  England  and  is  upheld  tail.  Every  year  a  festival 

as  a  model  of  progressiveness  is  held  to  commemorate  this, 

and  enlightenment."  and  on  the  last  day  the  pil- 

When  the  E.G.  and  the  grims  all  leap  into  the  lake 

Planter  get  upon  the  Indian  together,  and  the  water  rises — 

Question  they  are  apt  to  be-  not  at  all  miraculously.  Ceylon 

come  tedious,  and  I  made  is  full  of  memories  of  the  Eama 

haste  to  shift  the  conversation,  and  Sita  legend.  At  Sita  Eliya, 

"  What  was  that  festival  at  not  far  from  Nuwara  Eliya, 

Batticaloa  that  you  men-  they  will  show  you  the  hoof- 

tioned  f  "  mark  of  Eama's  steed,  where 

"  The  Amirtakali  Festival,"  it  struck  the  road  as  he  jumped 

said  the  E.O.  "  That,  too,  is  the  stream.  Ever  since,  the 

connected  with  the  story  of  water  of  the  stream  has  flowed 

Eama  and  Sita.  Near  Batti-  for  some  distance  underground, 

caloa,  at  Amirtakali,  is  the  Adam's  Bridge  was  built  by 

sacred  lake  that  rose  for  Hanu-  Eama  that  he  might  cross  the 

man,  the  Monkey  God.  He  sea  in  pursuit  of  Eavana. 

had  come  to  Ceylon  to  help  While  he  was  building  it  he 

Eama  against  Eavana,  and  was  helped  by  the  squirrel, 

with  a  firebrand  attached  to  who  collected  sand  to  make 

his  tail  he  set  fire  to  Eavana's  mortar.  The  poor  little  squirrel 

citadel.  As  he  made  his  way  got  very  hot  and  tired,  and 

back  to  India  through  the  tree-  was  nearly  fainting,  when  Eama 

tops,  firing  the  country  as  he  picked  him  up  and  stroked 

went,  the  brand  became  in-  him.  Ever  since  then  the 

conveniently  hot,  and  he  squirrel  has  carried  the  marks 

jumped  down  to  earth,  to  try  of  Eama's  fingers  along  his 

to  put  it  out.  As  soon  as  he  back.  Well,  I've  yapped  quite 

alighted  on  the  ground,  a  large  enough.  We  had  better  turn 

lake  of  water  miraculously  rose,  in,  for  we've  an  early  start 

and  quenched  the  fire  in  his  to-morrow." 


n. 

Next  morning,  after  early  allows  certain  useful  works 

tea,  as  soon  as  light  first  ap-  (generally  road  improvements) 

peared  in  the  sky,  the  Planter  to  be  undertaken  by  any  desti- 

went  off  to  try  and  shoot  a  tute  persons  who  are  willing 

stag,  while  I  accompanied  the  to  labour.  Payment  for  the 

E.O.,  who  was  going  to  inspect  work  is  usually  made  in  rice, 

some  "  relief  works."  When  distress  is  at  all  wide- 

When  crops  fail,  which  in  spread,  it  is  a  pretty  big  job 

this  particular  district  is  not  to  supervise  the  gangs  of 

an  uncommon  occurrence,  and  workers  scattered  about  over 

famine  threatens,  Government  the  district — generally  in  the 


542 


In  Gamp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


[Oct. 


most  inaccessible  parts,  as  they 
cannot  be  given  work  at  any 
distance  from  their  homes. 

We  crossed  the  lagoon  in 
canoes,  and  after  a  walk  of 
three  or  four  miles  we  came  on 
a  native  overseer  superintend- 
ing the  clearing  of  a  jungle 
path.  There  were  several  hun- 
dred persons  at  work,  mostly 
women  and  boys — miserable 
half-starved  specimens,  many 
of  them  suffering  from  a  loath- 
some disease  locally  known  as 
"  paranghi."  I  could  not  help 
commenting  on  their  wretched 
appearance. 

"  Oh,  you  should  see  them 
later  on,"  said  the  E.O.  "  You 
would  not  recognise  them  after 
they  have  had  two  or  three 
weeks  of  good  rice.  ...  A  lot  of 
women  at  work  here,  overseer." 

"  Yes,  sir,  nearly  all  aban- 
doned women." 

"  No  reflection  on  their 
morals  !  "  explained  the  E.O. 
to  me  sotto  voce.  "  He  means 
they  have  been  deserted  by 
their  husbands,  who  have  gone 
to  seek  their  livelihood  else- 
where— a  common  event  in 
times  of  distress." 

We  passed  on  to  another 
gang.  "  I  don't  see  any  Sin- 
halese women  here  from " 

said  the  E.O.,  naming  a  village 
near  by. 

"  No,  sir.  They  refused  to 
work.  Very  lazy  women,  the 
Sinhalese;  not  like  the  Tamils." 
(The  overseer  was  a  Tamil.) 

"  I  think  we  had  better  go 
to  the  village,"  said  the  E.O. 
"  They  were  in  a  pretty  bad 
way  about  a  month  ago  when 
I  passed  through." 


Accordingly  we  went  there, 
and  found  the  women  chiefly 
employed  in  grubbing  out  lotus 
roots  from  the  tank  bed,  and 
catching  prawns  in  a  small 
lagoon.  "  Poor  nourishment !  " 
remarked  the  E.O.,  and  he 
sent  for  the  headman  to  call 
the  women  together.  When 
they  arrived,  he  harangued 
them  :  the  gist  of  his  remarks, 
which  were  interpreted  for  my 
benefit,  was  that  there  was 
work  to  be  had  near  by,  and 
that  they  would  get  rice  for 
it,  which  was  a  far  better  form 
of  diet  than  prawns  and  lotus - 
roots. 

The  women's  answer  was 
that  they  could  not  work:  it 
was  contrary  to  their  custom. 
An  old  woman  burst  out  in- 
dignantly, "  How  would  the 
Queen  of  England  like  to  see 
us  women  working  on  the 
roads  ?  " 

"  They  all  think  that  Queen 
Victoria  is  still  on  the  throne," 
explained  the  E.O.  in  an  aside 
to  me.  "  Well,  if  they  won't 
work,  they  won't.  I  don't 
suppose  they  will  starve,  but 
the  trouble  will  be  when  they 
are  attacked  by  fever — that's 
when  the  bad  food  will  tell  on 
them.  Their  men-folk  will  look 
after  them  to  a  certain  extent : 
the  Sinhalese  villager  treats  his 
wife  better  than  the  Tamil  does. 
Why,  I've  known  gangs  of 
Tamil  and  Moor  women  on 
relief  works,  while  their  men 
squatted  by  the  roadside,  look- 
ing on,  and  chewing  betel." 

"  Talking  of  Queen  Victoria," 
continued  the  E.O.  as  we  went 
on  our  way,  "  reminds  me  of  a 


1921.] 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


543 


petition  my  Chief  had  when  I 
first  joined  the  service.  Some 
extensions  or  repairs  were  being 
made  to  the  railway  line  in  the 
district  where  I  was  stationed, 
and  a  lot  of  stores  had  been 
sent  down  from  Colombo.  The 
railway  authorities  were  con- 
stantly being  annoyed  by  petty 
thefts  of  those  stores,  and  the 
pilferings  at  last  became  so 
bad  that  they  complained  to 
my  Chief,  and  asked  him  to 
put  pressure  on  his  headmen  to 
stop  the  leakage.  After  a  while 
a  village  headman  succeeded 
in  finding  some  bolts  and  nuts 
and  other  miscellaneous  rail- 
way property  in  the  house  of  a 
man,  who  was  promptly  arrested 
anc*  Charged  with  theft.  While 
awaiting  his  trial,  the  thief 
sent  a  petition  to  my  Chief 
protesting  that  the  things  had 
been  stolen  by  his  enemy,  one 
Podi  Sinno,  and  secreted  in 
the  petitioner's  house,  to  pay 
off  an  old  score.  He  ended 
with  these  words  :  '  And  at 
the  Day  of  Judgment,  when 
Queen  Victoria  is  seated  on  her 
throne  judging  the  Tribes  of 
Israel,  she  will  decide  between 
me  and  this  cursed  Podi  Sinno  ; 
but  in  the  meantime,  I  pray 
your  Honour's  mercy  to  have 
compassion  on  a  big  family 
man,  who  is  entirely  innocent 
also.'  " 

"  Are  the  Sinhalese  addicted 
to  paying  off  old  scores  1  "  I 
asked. 

"  They  seldom  forgive  an 
enemy,  and  will  bear  a  grudge 
for  a  long  time.  I  once  came 
across  a  curious  case  of  posthu- 
mous revenge.  There  was  a 


certain  wealthy  and  much  re- 
spected Sinhalese  —  we'll  call 
him  Davit  Appu — who  during 
his  lifetime  had  been  at'daggers 
drawn  with  a  neighbour,  Appu- 
hami.  Five  years  after  Davit 
Appu's  death,  Appuhami 
claimed  a  garden  which  had 
belonged  to  the  deceased,  on 
the  strength  of  a  deed  of  sale 
which  he  said  was  granted  by 
Davit  Appu  on  his  deathbed. 
Davit  Appu's  sons  contested 
the  claim  :  it  was  well  known 
that  their  father  had  refused 
more  than  once  to  sell  the 
garden  to  Appuhami.  The 
notary  who  was  supposed  to 
have  executed  the  transfer, 
and  the  two  witnesses  who 
signed  it,  were  all  dead  in  the 
interval;  but  Appuhami  pro- 
duced an  old  Dutch  grant  given 
to  Davit  Appu's  ancestor  which 
was  the  original  title-deed  to 
the  land.  Thereupon  Davit 
Appu's  sons  produced  a  similar 
deed,  which  they  swore  was 
the  original,  and  had  never 
left  their  possession  since  their 
father  died. 

"  The  two  grants  were  so 
exactly  alike  that  the  Judge 
could  not  offer  any  opinion. 
He  sent  them  up  to  the  Govern- 
ment archivist,  who  pronounced 
unhesitatingly  that  the  original 
was  the  one  produced  by  Davit 
Appu's  sons,  and  that  Appu- 
hami's  document  was  a  very 
clever  forgery.  So  Appuhami 
was  committed  for  trial  on 
the  charge  of  fabricating  evi- 
dence. The  case  against  him 
looked  pretty  black.  To  begin 
with,  why  had  he  waited  to 
make  his  claim  until  his  wit- 


544 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


[Oct. 


nesses  were  all  dead  ?  He 
declared  that  he  had  made  a 
verbal  agreement  not  to  claim 
the  garden  until  Davit  Appu 
had  been  dead  for  five  years, 
which  seemed  rather  too  thin. 

"  Luckily  for  him,  he  had  a 
very  clever  lawyer,  who  be- 
lieved in  his  innocence,  and 
set  to  work  to  collect  evidence 
from  the  servants  and  hangers- 
on  of  the  late  Davit  Appu. 
Bit  by  bit,  he  pieced  the  whole 
story  together.  The  old  man 
nursed  such  enmity  against 
Appuhami  for  one  reason  or 
another,  that  he  was  deter- 
mined to  be  revenged  on  him, 
even  after  death.  He  found  a 
cunning  forger,  whom  he  paid 
to  execute  a  copy  of  the  old 
Dutch  grant — a  work  that  took 
the  artist  a  year  or  more,  I 
believe.  When  it  was  com- 
pleted, old  Davit  Appu,  who 
was  now  bedridden,  sent  privily 
for  Appuhami,  and  told  him 
that  as  he  was  dying  he  wished 
to  be  reconciled  to  him,  and 
in  proof  of  his  good  faith,  was 
willing  to  sell  the  coveted 
garden.  But  he  said  the 
transfer  deed  must  be  executed 
with  the  utmost  secrecy,  for 
fear  that  his  sons  might  object, 
and  Appuhami  must  not  claim 
the  land  until  five  years  after 
Davit  Appu's  death.  Why  he 
made  this  latter  condition  was 
somewhat  obscure.  Personally, 
I'm  inclined  to  think  that  the 
old  sinner  wanted  to  play  a 
sort  of  '  cat-and-mouse  '  game, 
and  prolong  his  enemy's  agony 
as  it  were,  even  after  he  him- 
self was  dead  and  unable  to 
enjoy  it. 


"  Well,  Appuhami  agreed  to 
these  conditions,  paid  his  money, 
and  got  the  transfer  to  which 
was  attached  the  spurious 
Dutch  grant ;  and  old  Davit 
Appu  died  a  happy  man,  con- 
fident that  his  sons,  who  held 
the  genuine  Dutch  grant,  would 
have  no  difficulty  in  upsetting 
Appuhami's  claim  when  the 
time  came.  When  you  think 
of  the  old  rascal  lying  on  his 
deathbed  and  planning  this 
elaborate  fraud,  you  realise 
that  there  is  not  much  that 
we  can  teach  the  native  in  the 
matter  of  ingenuity." 

"  What  became  of  the  artist 
who  executed  the  forgery  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  As  soon  as  the  truth  came 
out,  the  police  tried  to  lay 
hands  on  him,  but  he  had 
covered  his  tracks  too  cleverly. 
His  real  name  was  never  found 
out." 

On  recrossing  the  lagoon  on 
the  way  home,  we  saw  some 
men  spearing  fish  out  of  canoes. 
Their  method  was  curious.  A 
sail  was  hoisted  on  the  canoe, 
and  a  line  towed  behind.  To 
this  line  was  attached  a  calico 
"  fish  " — a  bag  of  calico  open 
at  both  ends,  and  formed  in 
the  shape  of  a  fish  of  four  or 
five  pounds  weight.  As  the 
"  fish  "  was  drawn  along,  the 
water  flowing  through  the  bag 
gave  it  a  very  lifelike  appear- 
ance. The  real  fish  followed 
it,  though  I  never  saw  one 
actually  attempt  to  seize  it. 
No  hooks  were  attached  to 
the  "  fish,"  but  when  its  pur- 
suers came  within  a  certain 
distance,  a  man  waiting  in  the 


1921.] 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceyhn  Jungle. 


545 


stern  of  the  canoe  would  hurl 
his  harpoon,  and  very  good 
shooting  they  generally  made. 
To  the  harpoon  was  fastened 
a  long  tough  cord,  so  that  when 
an  extra  large  fish  was  struck 
it  could  be  played.  I  tried 
one  or  two  shots,  but  never 
got  within  yards  of  the  fol- 
lowing fish. 

The  E.G.  told  me  that  in 
some  parts  of  the  island  he  had 
seen  natives  shoot  fish  with 
bow  and  arrow.  They  go  out 
with  a  floating  "  flare  "  towed 
slowly  behind  them.  The  fish 
are  attracted  by  the  light,  and 
easily  shot — apparently  much 


the  same  method  as  was  em- 
ployed in  the  bad  days  of  old 
in  parts  of  Scotland  to  kill 
salmon. 

There  is  a  belief  that  it  is 
impossible  to  catch  fish  in 
these  parts  by  European 
methods,  and  the  E.O.  (him- 
self a  very  keen  and  clever 
fisherman)  told  me  that  it 
could  not  be  done.  I  suc- 
ceeded, however,  one  day  in 
bringing  home  two  fine 
"  Koduva  "  (Lates  calcarifer), 
each  over  twenty  pounds  in 
weight,  caught  on  a  spinning- 
bait  of  my  own  manufac- 
ture. 


m. 


On  getting  back  to  camp 
after  our  expedition  to  the 
relief  works,  we  found  the 
Planter  had  returned  with  a 
fine  spotted  stag.  He  told  us 
that  he  had  seen  a  still  finer 
one,  but  his  stalk  was  balked 
by  what  he  called  "  a  beastly 
did-he-do-it-bird,"  which  be- 
trayed him. 

"  Those  plover  seem  to  have 
a  spite  against  Harry,"  said 
the  E.O.  "  When  we  were  out 
shooting  the  other  day,  every 
time  he  fired  a  cheery  old 
plover  would  sing  out,  '  Did 
he  do  it  ?  Did  he  do  it  ?  ' 
when  his  mate  would  an- 
swer, '  Didn't  do  it !  didn't 
do  it !  '  till  Harry  in  his  wrath 
shot  two  plover  on  the 
ground." 

"  It  must  have  been  their 
ghosts  that  warned  your  other 
stag  ?  "  I  suggested,  dodging 


the  shooting  -  boot  that  was 
flung  at  my  head. 

The  E.O.  interposed  with 
more  information.  "  The  Ta- 
mils have  a  queer  story  about 
the  plover.  They  call  it  by  a 
name  that  means  '  Man-Adver- 
tiser,' because  by  its  cry  it 
always  gives  warning  when  a 
man  is  near,  and  it  is  a  by- 
word with  them  for  its  timidity. 
At  night,  they  say  the  hen- 
plover  lies  on  her  back  on  the 
nest  with  her  feet  in  the  air, 
'  because  she  is  afraid  that 
during  the  night  the  sky  may 
fall.'  And  yet  some  people 
will  tell  you  that  natives  have 
no  sense  of  humour." 

This  story  brought  back  to 
my  mind  the  Indian  legend  of 
the  compassion  of  Krishna, 
who,  when  gods  and  men  were 
met  for  the  great  battle  on  the 
plain,  took  the  war  bell  from 


546 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


[Oct. 


an  elephant  to  cover  the  plover's 
nest  at  his  feet.  The  Planter 
remembered  how  it  was  quoted 
by  Colonel  James  Tod  in  his 
'  Eajast'han  ' ;  but  further  di- 
gression was  prevented  by  the 
E.O.,  who  wanted  to  know  when 
we  were  going  to  be  ready  for 
breakfast. 

After  a  much-needed  tub, 
we  sat  down  to  a  somewhat 
belated  "  breakfast,"  for  which 
the  E.O.'s  Appu  (head  servant) 
had  prepared  most  elaborate 
menus  in  my  honour  ;  I  could 
not  help  remarking  upon  them. 
"Yes,"  said  the  E.G.,  "they 
love  writing  out  menus.  Even 
in  bungalows  where  there  is  a 
lady,  as  often  as  not  the  Appu 
writes  the  menus.  I  remember 
a  dinner-party  at  Batticaloa — 
but  I  ought  first  of  all  to  ex- 
plain that,  though  Batticaloa 
is  the  headquarters  of  a  Pro- 
vincial Eevenue  Officer,  it  is 
purely  a  native  town ;  any 
luxuries  that  can't  be  purchased 
in  the  local  bazaar  must  come 
by  post  or  steamer  from  Co- 
lombo. Dinner-parties  gener- 
ally were  fixed  for  the  day  after 
the  weekly  steamer  was  due. 
It  happened  once  that  the 
steamer  was  two  days  late,  so 
that  when  the  party  came  off 
there  had  been  no  steamer  for 
over  a  week.  All  the  same,  it 
was  a  magnificent  dinner  of 
endless  courses — our  hostess  was 
noted  for  her  old-fashioned  hos- 
pitality,— but  as  the  last  item 
on  the  menu  the  Appu  had 
written — 

Dessert. 
Finger  glasses  only. 


"  Batticaloa  ?  "  said  the 
Planter  in  a  ruminating  tone, 
"  isn't  that  the  place  where 
there  is  a  lagoon  with  singing 
fish  ?  Did  you  ever  see  them  ?  ' ' 

"I've  seen  some  shell-fish 
which,  according  to  the  natives, 
are  the  animals  that  '  sing,' 
but  they  refused  to  make  any 
noise  in  captivity.  I've  heard 
the  singing.  At  certain  times 
of  the  year — often  after  rain, 
but  it  must  be  in  still  windless 
weather,  and  at  nights — you 
can  hear  a  noise  on  the  lagoon 
like  a  Jew's-harp.  There  are 
generally  several  notes — a  deep 
bass  note,  rather  like  an  old 
bull-frog's,  a  medium  note,  and 
a  treble  note.  Once  when  I 
took  a  party  of  visitors  on  the 
lagoon  the  noise  was  so  loud 
that  they  declared  it  must  be 
the  purring  of  a  motor-car 
engine  on  the  shore  ;  it  cer- 
tainly was  something  like  it. 
If  you  put  an  oar  into  the  water 
and  hold  your  ear  to  the  other 
end,  it  makes  the  sound  more 
distinct — like  a  telegraph  wire 
humming  in  the  wind.  At 
times  the  noise  seems  to  travel 
over  the  lagoon  ;  the  first  time 
that  I  heard  it,  I  thought  it 
was  a  swarm  of  invisible  bees 
flying  overhead." 

"  Has  the  music  ever  been 
investigated  scientifically  *  " 
asked  the  Planter. 

"  Several  marine  biologists 
have  visited  Batticaloa,  and 
the  natives  produced  their  shell- 
fish for  inspection.  One  of  the 
scientists  declared  these  ani- 
mals incapable  of  making  that 
noise,  or  any  noise.  However, 
he  kept  some  in  a  bowl  in  his 


1921.] 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


647 


room  at  the  Best  House,  and 
one  morning  after  returning 
from  an  early  prowl  along  the 
lagoon,  he  heard  the  musical 
sounds  proceeding  from  his 
room.  "  By  Jove  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, "  those  men  were  right 
after  all !  "  In  he  dashed, 
excitedly — only  to  find  the 
boy,  in  an  unwonted  fit  of 
zeal,  cleaning  the  windows ! 
The  noise  is  sometimes  very 
like  that  of  a  wet  finger  rubbed 
round  a  finger-bowl,  or  the 
scrape  of  a  dry  cloth  on  a 
window." 

I  asked  whether  the  noise 
could  be  caused  by  cooling 
rocks,  like  the  music  of  the 
Memnon  temple.  "  Juvenal 
speaks  of  the  sounds  as  '  chor- 
dse,'  which  corresponds  to  your 
Jew's-harp  and  telegraph  wires.' 

The  E.G.  was  inclined  to 
think  that  there  might  be 
something  in  this  theory,  es- 
pecially as  the  "  singing  fish  " 
are  heard  only  at  night ;  but 
here  the  discussion  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  Planter,  who 
was  getting  tired  of  it. 

"To  go  back  to  menus,"  he 
said,  "  you  know  old  Lucas  ? 
— not  that  it  matters.  He  left 


his  bungalow  one  Saturday 
for  a  week-end  visit  to  Eogers, 
and  told  his  Appu  that  he 
would  not  return  before  Mon- 
day or  Tuesday.  I  was  one  of 
the  week-end  party.  On  Sun- 
day morning  Eogers  had  an 
urgent  call  to  Colombo,  so 
the  party  broke  up.  Lucas 
suggested  that  we  should  finish 
the  week-end  at  his  bungalow, 
which  was  close  by.  Accord- 
ingly, we  rode  over  without 
warning,  and  on  arrival,  Lucas 
called  out  to  the  Appu  :  "  These 
gentlemen  to  breakfast,  Appu  ; 
can  you  manage  ?  " — "  Yes, 
master,  I  manage  all  right." 
Later  on  we  sat  down  to 
breakfast.  This  was  the  menu 
that  the  Appu  produced  : — 

Soup. 
Mulligatawny  and  Bice. 

Fish. 
Tinned  Salmon. 

Entree. 

Hashed  Mutton. 
(Smells  a  little.) 

It  was  the  remains  of  Lucas's 
Saturday  breakfast,  and  it  smelt 
more  than  "  a  little." 


IV. 


"  Let's  go  down  to  the  la- 
goon this  evening,  and  watch 
them  drive  fish,"  suggested 
the  E.G.  "  The  headman  told 
me  they  were  going  to  have  a 
drive  before  sunset." 

Accordingly  after  tea  we  set 
off  to  a  narrow  part  of  the 
lagoon,  where  we  found  a 


large  concourse  of  men  with 
boats,  canoes,  and  nets,  all 
ready  for  the  sport.  About  a 
dozen  or  more  canoes  had  nets 
fastened  to  them  by  means  of 
poles,  so  that  the  nets  were 
stretched  along  one  side,  more 
or  less  at  right  angles  to  the 
water,  and  to  a  height  of  about 


548 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


[Oct. 


twenty  feet  above  it.  The 
boatmen  paddled  these  canoes 
out  into  the  lagoon,  and  formed 
them  up,  each  canoe  touching 
the  one  next  to  it,  so  that  the 
nets  made  a  continuous  half- 
circle.  From  the  two  horns 
was  spread  a  chain  of  boats 
and  canoes  in  parallel  lines. 
These  boats  were  about  twenty 
yards  apart,  and  between  them, 
along  the  surface  of  the  water, 
were  stretched  ropes  festooned 
with  cut  palm  leaves.  The 
purpose  of  these  "  streamers  " 
was  to  frighten  the  fish,  so 
that  they  should  be  driven 
straight  down  the  course  to 
the  half-circle  of  canoes ;  it 
looked  as  if  some  sort  of  race- 
course had  been  laid  out  on 
the  lagoon. 

When  all  was  ready,  the 
"  drive  "  began  by  means  of 
"  streamers  "  carried  by  men 
swimming,  or  stretched  be- 
tween canoes  that  were  paddled 
down  the  course  between  the 
parallel  lines.  After  a  while 
the  fish  began  to  show  them- 
selves, at  first  taking  short 
low  jumps  ;  then,  as  they  got 
nearer  the  netted  canoes  and 
the  pace  became  more  furious, 
springing  up  with  huge  leaps. 
At  times  there  would  be  thirty 
or  forty  great  fish  from  ten  to 
twenty  pounds  in  weight,  flash- 
ing silver  in  the  air  together. 
It  reminded  me  very  much  of 
salmon  at  home  trying  to  get 
up  a  fall. 

As  the  fish  neared  the  netted 
canoes,  they  tried  to  jump  over 
them,  and  not  seeing  the  nets 
against  which  they  hit,  fell 
back  into  the  canoes,  to  be 


knocked  on  the  head  by  the 
boatmen.  A  few  escaped. 

What  I  could  not  under- 
stand was  why  they  did  not 
swim  away  under  the  netted 
canoes  which  had  no  streamers 
on  them.  When  the  boats 
came  ashore  with  their  catch, 
the  E.G.  asked  one  of  the 
fishermen  for  an  explanation. 

"It  is  the  custom  of  these 
fish  to  jump  when  they  are 
frightened  or  driven." 

"  Why  don't  they  jump  the 
side  ropes  then  ?  "  asked  the 
E.G. 

"  Because  when  once  you 
start  driving  them  they  will 
nearly  always  go  straight  ahead 
until  no  longer  chased.  The 
side  ropes  are  merely  an  addi- 
tional precaution,  not  absolutely 
necessary.  These  fish  will  al- 
ways go  straight,  and  they  will 
always  jump.  Your  Honours 
will  notice  that  they  are  all 
of  one  kind,  and  it  is  the  cus- 
tom of  that  kind  of  fish  to 
behave  so." 

I  asked  whether  the  men 
would  make  another  drive  that 
evening.  "  No  good,"  was  the 
E.O.'s  answer  ;  "  the  fish  come 
and  go  with  the  tides  for  about 
an  hour,  to  and  from  the  sea, 
at  this  time  of  year.  They 
'  run '  only  for  about  a  week 
or  ten  days.  If  the  '  run ' 
lasted  longer,  they  might  be- 
come extinct." 

The  mosquitoes  were  as  hun- 
gry for  dinner  as  we  were  that 
evening,  and  the  pungent  fumes 
of  the  fire  of  margosa  leaves, 
lighted  to  drive  them  away, 
were  so  unpleasant  as  to  cause 
nearly  an  equal  amount  of 


1921.] 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


549 


discomfort.  I  had  been  warned 
to  bring  mosquito-boots,  and 
by  sitting  on  old  newspapers 
and  putting  a  page  or  two  down 
inside  each  trouser  leg,  I  man- 
aged to  protect  myself  in  some 
degree.  After  dinner,  we  made 
no  attempt  to  sit  up,  but  re- 
tired to  smoke  under  the  mos- 
quito-nets of  our  camp-beds. 

Suddenly  there  arose  a  com- 
motion among  the  servants,  and 
sounds  of  cries  and  sobs  reached 

our  ears.     "What  the  is 

all  that  noise  about,  Appu  ?  " 
angrily  shouted  the  E.O. 

The  Appu  ran  up,  panting. 
"  Only  gentleman's  Podian 
(young  servant-boy),  master. 
That  Podian  all  tummick.  He 
thinking,  thinking  all  day  long 
what  he  will  eat  next.  He 
stealing  master's  marmalade  !  " 

The  Planter  arose  to  deal 
with  his  Podian,  and  soon  after- 
wards we  all  turned  in  to  sleep. 

At  some  time  in  the  night 
I  was  awakened  by  a  piercing 
yell.  I  listened — and  the  cry 
was  repeated.  The  yells  then 
changed  into  groans.  The  near- 
est village  was  far  beyond 
earshot.  "  Some  of  the  ser- 
vants must  be  fighting,  and 
one  has  been  half -murdered  !  " 
I  thought.  Still  those  fearful 
groans  continued.  I  got  up 
and  woke  the  E.O. 

"Only  the  Devil-bird,"  he 
said,  after  listening  for  a  mo- 
ment to  the  noise.  "  I  tell  you 
what,  we'll  pull  Harry's  leg." 

He  moved  over  to  the  Plan- 
ter's bed,  and  shook  him  awake. 
"  Wake  up,  Harry,  my  Appu 
is  murdering  your  Podian  !  " 

The   Planter  listened.     The 


cries  began  again — the  most 
absolutely  human  cries  and 
groans,  as  from  a  person  in 
agony.  "  That's  not  my  Po- 
dian !  "  gasped  the  Planter ; 
"  that's  a  full-grown  man's 
voice !  You're  not  going  to 
stand  here,  doing  nothing,  while 
that  man  is  being  murdered  ? 
Good  God  !  it's  awful !  " 

"  One  up  to  me  !  "  laughed 
the  E.O.  "  It's  only  the  Devil- 
bird." 

The  noise  still  continued, 
gradually  becoming  fainter,  as 
if  the  sufferer  were  growing 
feebler  and  feebler,  till  at  last 
it  died  away  in  an  awful  gurgle. 

The  next  morning,  when  the 
sun  should  have  dispelled  the 
horrors  of  the  night,  I  still 
thought  I  heard  those  ghastly 
cries.  I  had  a  touch  of  fever, 
and  the  cries  had  got  on  my 
nerves.  I  tried  to  believe  that 
they  had  not  been  as  bad  as  I 
thought,  and  to  encourage  my- 
self, asked  the  Planter  (a  most 
unemotional  and  phlegmatic 
person)  what  he  had  thought 
of  the  noise. 

"Absolutely  beastly !  I  never 
want  to  hear  it  again — it  was 
too  human  for  anything  !  That 
final  throaty  sob  was  quite  too 
much  for  me  !  " 

The  E.O.  asked  us  not  to 
say  anything  about  it  before 
the  servants  (who  apparently 
had  slept  through  the  whole 
performance),  as  they  might 
be  superstitious.  I  did  not 
blame  them.  If  ever  I  heard  a 
bird  of  ill  omen,  it  was  that 
same  Devil-bird. 

"  What  sort  of  a  bird  is  it  f  " 
asked  the  Planter.  "  I  have 


550 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


[Oct. 


heard  of  it,  but  never  heard  it 
before." 

"  I  believe  it  is  quite  a  small 
owl,"  said  the  E.O.  "  How  he 
makes  all  that  row  I  can't 
imagine.  You  would  think  it 
took  the  biggest  bird  on  earth 
to  produce  it.  Once  when  I 
was  stationed  at  Mullaittivu, 
the  District  Surveyor  was  din- 
ing with  me  on  a  bright  moon- 
light night.  A  Devil  -  bird 
started  his  song  while  we  were 
at  dinner.  We  got  up,  and 
thought  we  had  located  the 
pest  in  a  thick  strychnos  tree. 
So  we  took  our  guns,  and  stood 
on  either  side  of  it,  with  our 
backs  to  the  bungalow,  while 
we  got  the  Appu  to  throw 
stones  into  the  tree  from  be- 
hind us.  The  noise  stopped, 
and  I  saw — or  thought  I  saw — 
a  small  brown  shadow  flit  away 
from  the  tree,  but  it  moved  so 
quietly  and  its  flight  was  so 
quaint — more  like  a  bat's  than 
a  bird's — that  I  did  not  collect 
myself  in  time  to  have  a  shot. 
The  Surveyor  had  seen  nothing. 
It  may  have  been  my  imagina- 
tion, and  the  bird  may  have 
been  in  another  tree.  It  is 
very  difficult  to  place  sounds 
at  night." 

Still  feeling  pretty  bad  after 
early  tea,  I  did  not  join  the 
E.O.  or  the  Planter  that  morn- 
ing, but  decided  to  take  things 
easily,  and  sauntered  over  to 
a  deserted  tank  at  a  short 
distance  from  our  camp,  where 
the  E.O.  said  I  might  get  a  shot 
at  a  stag. 

I  stalked  round  the  edge  of 
the  tank  through  the  jungle  as 
carefully  as  my  inexperience 


allowed,  but  I  saw  nothing 
except  a  few  jackals.  I  then 
sat  down  to  rest  under  a  fine 
old  tamarind-tree,  below  the 
tank  bund,  on  the  site  of  what 
probably  was  once  a  village. 
I  suppose  I  must  have  dozed 
off.  At  any  rate,  I  was  brought 
abruptly  to  my  senses  by  a 
curious  barking  and  jabbering. 
Looking  up  to  the  bund,  I  saw 
a  strange  sight.  A  pariah  dog 
was  chasing  a  troop  of  Wanderu 
monkeys.  Of  course  the  mon- 
keys easily  had  the  legs  of  the 
pariah,  but  every  now  and 
then  they  would  pause  in  their 
flight  and  allow  him  to  over- 
take them.  Then  began  an 
extraordinary  game :  the  dog 
would  pretend  to  bite  the 
monkeys  ;  at  times  he  would 
actually  seize  one  and  shake 
it,  and  the  monkeys  would  box 
his  ears.  Then  they  would 
suddenly  scamper  off,  leaving 
the  dog  behind ;  then  stop, 
and  the  game  would  begin 
again.  I  watched  them  for 
about  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
hardly  believing  my  eyes. 

The  E.O.  was  frankly  scep- 
tical when  I  told  my  yarn  on 
his  return  to  camp.  He  said 
I  must  have  dreamed  the  whole 
thing,  inspired  by  fever.  How- 
ever, my  story  was  confirmed 
later  in  the  day  by  a  villager 
to  whom  the  E.O.  casually 
mentioned  the  "  vision."  Yes, 
the  villager  knew  that  dog  and 
those  monkeys  at  the  tank. 
He  had  often  seen  them  play- 
ing together ;  possibly  they 
lived  together.  The  dog  did 
not  come  to  the  village,  and 
had  no  owner. 


1921.] 


In  Camp  in  a  Ceylon  Jungle. 


551 


I  suggested  that  possibly  the 
dog's  mother  had  been  killed 
when  he  was  a  pup,  and  the 
monkeys  had  found  him  and 
adopted  him.  The  E.G.  would 
not  venture  any  criticism  on 
this  brilliant  explanation ;  he 
merely  grunted. 

The  next  day  we  had  to 
pack  up  and  break  up  camp. 
The  Planter  was  due  on  his 
estate  in  three  days,  and  it 
would  take  him  all  that  time 
to  reach  it,  and  the  E.O.  was 
obliged  to  return  to  head- 
quarters. So  very  reluctantly 
we  said  good-bye  to  the  jungle. 
Of  course  there  are  drawbacks 
at  times,  such  as  mosquitoes, 
fever,  unexpected  rain,  over- 
turned baggage-carts,  leaky 
tents,  &c.,  &c.,  but  fortunately 
one  is  so  constituted  that  the 
troubles  are  forgotten  and  only 
the  pleasures  remain  in  one's 
memory.  I  must  make  an  ex- 
ception of  "the  Devil-bird." 


He  was  decidedly  not  a  plea- 
sure ;  but  I  would  not  have 
missed  the  experience  for  any- 
thing. Apart  from  the  actual 
sport,  which  at  times  was  really 
good,  it  is  a  pure  pleasure 
merely  to  wander  through  these 
little-known  jungles,  meeting 
the  pleasantest  of  natives,  and 
studying  wild  bird  and  beast 
life.  And  then  the  yarns  of  an 
evening  !  There  is  a  delightful 
freedom  from  constraint  about 
the  life  that  one  finds  nowhere 
else,  and  one  feels  as  if  the 
whole  place  belonged  to  one. 
I  have  been  in  wild  parts  of 
England — Dartmoor  and  Ex- 
moor,  for  example — but  I  have 
never  experienced  the  same 
feeling.  I  will  not  go  as  far 
as  Kipling  and  say  that  "  You'll 
never  'eed  nought  else  "  when 
once  you  have  heard  the  jungle 
calling.  But  it  does  call  to 
some  people,  and  once  it  has 
called  it  keeps  on  calling. 


552 


[Oct. 


MUSINGS   WITHOUT  METHOD. 


THE    SURRENDER   TO    SINN    FEIN ITS    EFFECT    UPON    THE    BRITISH 

EMPIRE — A  GENERAL  CONDONATION  OF  MURDER — JEWS  FISHING 
IN  TROUBLED  WATERS — THE  SAYINGS  OF  8IDONIA — THE  '  PRO- 
TOCOLS'  NOT  A  FORGERY THE  TRAGEDY  OF  LORD  ESHER. 


THE    discussion    which    has 
dragged  wearily  on  between  Mr 
Lloyd  George  and  Mr  Valera 
marks    the    lowest    point    of 
England's     degradation.       On 
either  side  there  has   been   a 
vast   deal   of   superfluous   his- 
tory   and    idle    rhetoric.      Mr 
Valera  has  once  more  set  forth 
the  vain  pretence  that  Ireland  is 
a  nation,  and  Mr  Lloyd  George 
has    countered    him    with    in- 
apposite quotations  from  Grat- 
tan  and  Thomas  Davis.    More 
than  once  the  terms  suggested 
by    Great    Britain    have    been 
"  unanimously  "  rejected  by  the 
Irish,  and  straightway  the  argu- 
ment has  been  resumed.     Mr 
Valera  has  talked,  in  his  large 
manner,   of  England's   shame, 
and  has   been  careful  not  to 
tell  anybody  in  what  it  con- 
sists.    Mr  Lloyd  George  urges 
us  to  get  rid  of  prejudice,  and 
we  know  not  what  he  means, 
since  he  has  already  stripped 
away  every  rag  of  dignity  from 
his  Government,  and  is  eager  to 
condone  the  worst  of  the  mur- 
ders  committed  by  the  Irish 
gunmen.    There  have  been  hur- 
ried  goings   from   London   to 
Inverness,   from   Inverness   to 
Dublin,    and    the    whole    dis- 
graceful episode  leaves  an  im- 
pression on  our  mind  of  lost 
time  and  wasted  energy. 


So  far  as   surmise  may  be 
trusted,   that  which  is   called 
the  Irish  "  problem  "  will  re- 
main precisely  where  it  was. 
Whatever  kind  of  independence 
be    given    to    Ireland,    she    is 
determined  at  all  hazards  to 
preserve  inviolate   her   hatred 
of   England.      It   is    that   for 
which   she   lives   and   thrives. 
The   richer   she   becomes,   the 
fuller  packed  are  her  savings 
banks  with  gold ;  the  louder  she 
shouts  in  dispraise  of  her  part- 
ner, the  more  actively  does  she 
employ  the  revolver,  the  trusted 
instrument  of  her  policy.    What 
is  necessary  for  her  happiness  is 
to  hug  a  grievance.     Whatever 
terms  Mr  Lloyd  George  makes 
with  Mr  Valera,  they  will  never 
silence  the  voice  of  complaint 
nor  check  the  habit,  unbroken 
through  the  centuries,  of  am- 
bush   and    assassination.      At 
the    very    moment    when    the 
Sinn   Feiners   were   persuaded 
(erroneously)  that  independence 
was    within    their    grasp,    the 
gallant    O 'Duffy    was    casting 
about  for  a  new  victim.  "  These 
people,"    said    he    of    Ulster, 
"  will  soon  have  an  opportunity 
of  declaring  whether  they  are 
for  Ireland  or  the  British  Em- 
pire.    If  they   decide   against 
Ireland,  we  will  have  to  take 
suitable  action.    We  will  have 


1921.] 


The  Surrender  to  Sinn  Fein. 


553 


to  put  on  the  screw  of  the 
boycott,  and  we  will  tighten 
that  screw,  and,  if  necessary, 
we  will  have  to  use  the  lead 
against  them."  In  other  words, 
if  you  reject  our  brand  of 
"  freedom,"  we  will  cut  your 
throats  or  club  it  into  you. 

Of  course  it  is  idle  to  attempt 
to  satisfy  rebels  of  this  temper. 
They  do  not  hanker  after  the 
results  of  revolution  and  treach- 
ery so  much  as  after  its  pro- 
cesses. Without  the  ambush 
and  the  gun  they  cannot  live 
at  their  ease,  and  if  the  worst 
came  to  the  worst,  and  the  last 
link  was  severed  which  bound 
them  to  Great  Britain,  they 
would  seek  other  victims  else- 
where— in  Ulster.  Above  all, 
they  want  the  world  to 
understand  that,  though  they 
may  be  at  war  with  their  neigh- 
bours, their  neighbours  must 
never  be  at  war  with  them. 
They  are  entirely  unlike  the 
logical  conspirator,  described 
by  E.  L.  Stevenson  in  '  The 
Dynamiter  '  :  "I  have  done 
much  that  I  cannot  defend," 
says  the  fervent  lover  of  the 
bomb  in  that  romance,  "  and 
what  I  would  not  do  again. 
Can  I  say  more  ?  Yes,  I  can 
say  this  :  I  never  abused  my- 
self with  the  muddle-headed 
fairy  tales  of  politics.  I  was 
at  least  prepared  to  meet  re- 
prisals. While  I  was  levying 
war  myself — or  levying  murder, 
if  you  choose  the  plainer  term 
— I  never  accused  my  adver- 
saries of  assassination.  I  never 
felt  or  feigned  a  righteous 
horror  when  a  price  was  put 


upon  my  life  by  those  whom  I 
attacked.  I  never  called  the 
policeman  a  hireling.  I  may 
have  been  a  criminal,  in  short ; 
but  I  was  never  a  fool."  The 
Sinn  Feiners  are  fools  as  well 
as  criminals.  They  always 
call  the  policeman  a  hireling. 
For  them  the  soldier  who  de- 
fends himself  against  their  cruel 
and  wanton  attacks  is  ever 
guilty  of  assassination. 

With  such  as  the  Sinn 
Feiners,  then,  it  is  useless  to 
come  to  terms.  If  we  give 
them  all  that  they  demand 
to-day,  they  will  not  know 
what  to  do  with  it.  It  is 
speech  and  the  gun  that  they 
love,  not  the  pedestrian  task 
of  government.  When  "  do- 
minion status "  has  failed 
through  their  incompetence,  or 
any  other  plan  that  may  be 
adopted,  they  will  cry  aloud, 
"  Another  injustice  to  Ireland," 
and  throw  the  blame  upon 
England.  Again,  if  independ- 
ence were  granted  them,  they 
would  incontinently  demand 
other  realms  to  devastate ;  and 
if  to  Mr  Lloyd  George  another 
Mr  George  had  succeeded, 
doubtless  he  would  ask  us  once 
more  to  get  rid  of  prejudice  and 
to  act  generously  by  the  Irish. 
What  better  plan  could  then 
be  suggested  than  to  hand  over 
to  the  leaders  of  Southern 
Ireland  the  whole  of  England 
and  Scotland,  with  the  shoot- 
ing rights  over  men  and  women 
of  all  ages  ?  The  gunmen, 
thus  given  the  sport  which 
they  desire,  might  be  satisfied 
for  a  while;  and  for  Great 


554 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Oct. 


Britain,  lest  she  also  might 
find  a  grievance,  we  would 
preserve  as  sanctuaries  brave 
little  Wales,  the  Isle  of  Man, 
Canvey  Island,  and  Berwick- 
upon-Tweed.  Then  Ireland 
might  discover  a  field  wide 
enough  for  her  activities,  and 
proud  of  the  murder  which  is 
"  a  mystical  expression  of  na- 
tionality," might  refrain  for 
a  year  or  two  at  least  from  the 
language  of  Mrs  Gummidge. 

In  brief,  from  the  settlement, 
whatever  it  may  be,  that  is 
made  with  the  Irish,  we  have  no 
hope  even  for  a  temporary  relief . 
If  we  could  choose  between 
dominion  status  and  complete 
independence,  we  would  pre- 
fer complete  independence,  pro- 
vided only  that  we  could  find 
sufficient  guarantees  that  the 
loyalists  would  be  protected 
from  murder  and  pillage.  Do- 
minion status,  granted  to  those 
who  are  resolved  to  misunder- 
stand, can  end  only  in  renewed 
assassination,  and  complete  in- 
dependence would  at  least  have 
the  advantage  of  throwing  the 
responsibility  of  misgovernment 
and  carnage  upon  those  who 
deserve  to  shoulder  it.  But 
before  complete  independence 
were  given  to  Ireland,  she 
would  be  asked  to  pay  her 
share  of  the  debts  which  have 
been  incurred  to  save  her  from 
extinction,  and  to  compensate 
the  loyal  inhabitants  of  Ire- 
land, who  are  unwilling  to 
sacrifice  their  British  citizen- 
ship to  Mr  Collins  and  the 
gunmen.  And  here  again  there 
seems  an  inseparable  obstacle 


to  peace.  Ireland  has  no 
intention  of  parting  with 
money.  Wherefore,  whatever 
be  done  in  the  near  future  will 
lead  only  to  fresh  embarrass- 
ments, and  what  touches  us 
most  deeply  in  this  present 
hour  is  not  what  effect  the 
pretended  settlement  will  have 
upon  Ireland,  but  what  will 
be  the  result  of  the  Govern- 
ment's pusillanimity  upon  the 
future  of  the  British  Em- 
pire. We  are  brought  by  this 
pussilanimity  to  the  edge  of 
universal  disruption.  Mr  Valera 
has  used  the  time  well  during 
which  he  has  argued  about 
nothing  with  Mr  Lloyd  George. 
He  and  his  lieutenants  have 
made  their  plans  and  gathered 
their  harvest,  while  their  dupes, 
in  pride  and  in  folly,  have  been 
fishing  for  trout.  The  rebellion 
will  presently  break  through 
the  truce  again,  and  what  is 
called  the  Irish  Question  will 
go  drearily  on,  as  it  has  gone 
on  before.  The  policy  of  mur- 
der will  be  intensified,  and  we 
shall  have  neither  the  means 
nor  the  resolution  to  cope 
with  it.  For  see  what  Mr 
Lloyd  George  has  done.  By 
his  meeting  with  Valera,  by 
the  letters  which  he  has  ex- 
changed, he  has  set  the  assas- 
sins of  Ireland  on  his  own 
level.  How  henceforth  shall 
we  deal  with  murderers  when 
we  have  acknowledged  them 
to-day  as  the  equal  emissaries 
of  a  land  in  revolt  ?  What  Mr 
Lloyd  George  could  not  give 
away  in  the  name  of  right  and 
justice  he  has  surrendered  to 


1921.] 


A  General  Condonation  of  Murder. 


555 


the  dagger  and  the  bomb. 
There  can  be  no  talk  now  of 
freedom  or  the  union  of  hearts. 
If  Ireland  gain  the  licence 
which  she  calls  freedom,  Great 
Britain  will  lose  the  liberty, 
which  once  was  hers,  of  thought 
and  action.  Mr  Lloyd  George 
has  yielded,  without  a  protest, 
to  the  armed  blackmailer. 

Eeflect  for  a  moment  what 
concessions  Mr  Lloyd  George 
has  made  already  to  the  assas- 
sins. The  miscreants,  who  call 
themselves  members  of  the 
Irish  Parliament,  blood-stained 
though  many  of  them  be,  have 
been  released  unconditionally. 
These  men  hold  in  their 
hands,  dead  or  alive,  many 
loyal  subjects  of  the  Crown, 
who  have  been  kidnapped  and 
(may  be)  murdered,  because 
they  have  served  Great  Britain. 
Even  when  Mr  Lloyd  George 
had  drunk  the  cup  of  humilia- 
tion to  the  dregs,  and  consented 
to  meet  the  implacable  rebels, 
he  still  owed  it  to  the  courage 
and  fidelity  of  those  who  have 
suffered  for  their  fatherland 
that  he  should  have  demanded, 
before  negotiations,  their  re- 
lease if  they  lived,  the  pun- 
ishment of  their  murderers, 
were  they  dead.  He  hushed 
up  the  news  of  their  torture 
or  butchery,  as  he  has  hushed 
up  everything  which  might 
cast  a  slur  upon  his  new  friends. 
So  far  as  we  know,  for  instance, 
neither  he  nor  any  of  his 
cabinet  have  ever  referred  in 
speech  or  writing  to  the  case  of 
Mrs  Lindsay.  There  was  a  time 
when  to  be  a  British  citizen 


was  an  assurance  of  protection 
in  every  corner  of  the  world. 
Lord  Palmerston  was  prepared 
to  draw  the  sword  for  Don 
Pacifico,  a  Maltese  Jew,  be- 
cause he,  a  British  citizen 
despite  his  race,  had  been  the 
victim  of  ill-treatment.  And 
here  was  Mrs  Lindsay  foully 
killed  by  subjects  of  the  Crown 
for  the  base  reason  that  she, 
by  a  timely  warning,  had  saved 
the  lives  of  British  soldiers. 
Not  only  is  her  death  un- 
avenged: she  must  not  be 
spoken  of  publicly.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  patriotism 
of  a  single  newspaper,  '  The 
Morning  Post,'  the  gallant  sac- 
rifice which  she  made  for  her 
fellows  and  her  dastardly  mur- 
der might  never  have  been 
known.  Thus  we  can  measure 
the  hypocrisy  of  our  Govern- 
ment, which  unveiled  a  statue 
to  Miss  Cavell,  who  nobly 
gave  her  life  for  others.  Mrs 
Lindsay  proved  a  like  nobility, 
and  has  no  commemorative 
statue.  Instead,  her  name  is 
held  to  be  a  thing  of  shame, 
and  her  very  memory  has  been 
swept  away,  for  a  time,  into  the 
dust-bin  where  Mr  Lloyd  George 
keeps  inconvenient  truths. 

At  last,  then,  the  oppor- 
tunists, who,  having  boasted 
of  their  courage  and  their  in- 
flexible sense  of  justice,  have 
stooped  to  accept  the  terms 
which  rebels  impose  upon  them, 
think  that  they  may  save  them- 
selves the  trouble  of  governing 
the  country.  But  their  betrayal 
will  in  the  end  render  the 
task  of  government  impossible 


556 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Oct. 


everywhere.  How,  when  in 
Ireland  we  have  yielded  to  the 
blackmail  of  the  pistol  and  the 
dagger,  shall  we  be  able  to 
control  the  assassin  in  any 
part  of  the  Empire  where  he 
may  choose  to  assert  himself 
and  his  treachery  ?  Having 
honoured  Valera,  how  shall 
we  punish  those  who  follow 
his  example  ?  The  British  Em- 
pire is  too  large,  too  highly  com- 
plex in  temper  and  purpose,  to 
escape  the  horror  of  rebellion. 
And  Mr  Lloyd  George  has 
everywhere  levelled  the  road 
along  which  rebels  are  forced 
to  travel.  "  Shoot,"  he  has  said, 
"  from  behind  hedges,  stab  in 
the  back,  murder  with  what 
brutality  you  may  old  men  and 
innocent  women.  Then  shall 
all  things  be  given  to  you: 
respect,  immunity,  and  what- 
ever constitution  it  is  your 
passing  whim  to  desire."  That 
is  the  message  which  Mr  Lloyd 
George  has  sent  all  over  the 
British  Empire.  And  his  sin  is 
the  greater,  because  the  message 
is  sent  at  a  moment  when  the 
whole  world  is  shaking  off  the 
easy  restraints.of  law  and  order, 
and  forging  for  itself  the  heavier 
shackles  of  bloodthirsty  and 
tyrannical  revolution. 

A  politician  is  an  ill  servant 
of  his  country  if  he  govern  for 
the  instant  alone.  It  is  his  duty 
to  discover,  if  he  may,  what 
will  be  the  effect  of  his  action 
upon  those  who  come  after 
him.  Even  if  Mr  Lloyd  George 
by  his  cowardice  succeeded  in 
settling  the  Irish  question  for 
a  month  or  a  year,  which  is 


improbable,  he  would  still  have 
been  unfaithful  to  his  trust  if 
he  had  not  asked:  Will  the 
opportunism  of  to-day  destroy 
to-morrow's  hope  of  peace  ?  He 
has  asked  no  tiresome  ques- 
tions, as  he  has  hidden  away 
such  tiresome  truths  as  the 
murder  of  Mrs  Lindsay.  The 
future  security  of  the  Empire 
seems  as  nothing  to  him  and 
his  colleagues,  when  they  com- 
pare it  with  the  momentary 
relief  which  a  truce  with  rebels, 
ill-kept  by  the  rebels  them- 
selves, brings  to  their  mut- 
able flippant  minds.  Mr  Lloyd 
George  has  committed  the  great- 
est crimes  which  a  politician 
can  commit.  He  has  declined 
to  govern,  and  he  has  refused  to 
demand  that  respect  for  law 
and  order  upon  which  alone 
good  government  can  rest.  Thus 
he  has  set  an  infamous  ex- 
ample, which  will  be  remem- 
bered all  the  world  over,  and 
he  has  done  more  than  any 
other  British  demagogue  to 
shatter  the  fabric  of  the  British 
Empire. 

The  blame  for  this  wicked- 
ness must  be  shared  by  his 
colleagues.  Mr  Chamberlain, 
Mr  Churchill,  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, and  the  band  of  Jews, 
ill  fitted  to  intervene  in  Im- 
perial affairs,  who  follow  in 
his  train,  are  one  and  all  guilty 
of  betrayal.  When  Great 
Britain  once  again  finds  her 
voice,  she  will  declare  that 
there  is  blood  upon  the  hands 
of  those  men,  and  that  not 
one  of  them  is  fit  again  to 
serve  Great  Britain — in  Parlia- 


1921.]        Free  Speech  and  Honest  Criticism  necessary. 


557 


ment  or  elsewhere.  But  their 
wickedness  is  not  shared  by  the 
people  of  this  kingdom.  Mr 
Lloyd  George,  with  the  greatest 
cunning  and  address,  has  de- 
stroyed for  the  time  all  sem- 
blance of  public  opinion.  As 
a  manipulator  of  the  machine 
he  has  seldom  had  an  equal 
in  this  or  any  other  country, 
and  he  has  done  his  best  to 
prevent  any  news  of  Irish 
cruelty  and  Irish  brutality  from 
reaching  the  ears  of  the  elect- 
ors. The  English  press,  which 
boasted  once  of  its  freedom, 
has  been  easily  enslaved.  The 
mere  hope  and  promise  of 
peerages  and  baronetcies  have 
made  proprietors  and  editors 
alike  the  bondsmen  of  Mr 
Lloyd  George.  By  comment 
and  suppression,  especially  by 
the  suppression  of  awkward 
news,  the  press,  with  a  few 
honourable  exceptions,  has  kept 
the  public  in  a  useful  state  of 
ignorance  and  indifference.  The 
hideous  stories  of  torture  and 
death,  familiar  in  Ireland,  are 
carefully  kept  from  the  English 
and  the  Scots,  lest  in  their 
rage  they  should  rise  in  anger 
against  our  cowardly  politicians 
and  drive  them  from  office. 
But,  shameful  though  it  is,  this 
suppression  of  news  is  merely 
an  ugly  episode.  We  shall  all 
of  us  discover  the  truth  in 
time,  and  then  the  newspapers 
and  their  proprietors  will  pay 
dearly  for  the  folly  of  thinking 
more  about  themselves  than  of 
the  truth. 

The      one      other      channel 
through  which  public  opinion 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXH. 


was  once  permitted  to  flow 
freely  was  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, which  now  is  silenced 
as  severely  as  is  the  press. 
Mr  Lloyd  George,  by  keeping 
his  Coalition  together,  has  made 
the  free  discussion  of  public 
questions  impossible.  When 
self-interest  drives  nearly  all 
the  members  of  the  House  of 
Commons  to  one  side,  when 
their  own  positions  depend  upon 
the  keeping  in  office  of  Mr  Lloyd 
George,  then  we  cannot  hope  for 
free  speech  or  honest  criticism. 
If  an  intrepid  politician  dares 
to  ask  inconvenient  questions 
about  Ireland,  he  is  repri- 
manded, as  though  he  had 
been  guilty  of  using  unparlia- 
mentary language,  and  the 
greatest  honour  is  due  to  the 
one  or  two  brave  and  inde- 
pendent men  who  have  openly 
dissociated  themselves  from 
friendship  with  murderers. 
Meanwhile,  Mr  Lloyd  George 
pursues  his  dangerous  path  un- 
trammelled, and  boasts  that  the 
country  is  unanimous  upon  his 
side.  The  apparent  unanimity 
comes  not  from  faith  but  from 
deception,  and  when  at  last 
the  poor  foolish  country  learns 
the  facts  about  Ireland  and 
the  Irish,  Mr  Lloyd  George 
will  find  himself  friendless  and 
alone.  We  only  hope  that  the 
discovery  of  the  truth  will  not 
come  too  late. 

The  Hebrew,  as  may  be  seen 
throughout  the  ages,  delights 
to  fish  in  troubled  waters,  and 
when  Mr  Lloyd  George  sat  down 
to  devise  the  easiest  method  of 
disintegrating  the  British  Em- 


558 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Oct. 


pire,  the  Jews  were  ready  with 
their  counsel  on  either  side. 
In  the  Cabinet  which  met  at 
Inverness  there  was  far  too 
great  a  proportion  of  Jews  for 
the  safety  of  our  country— of 
Jews  who  cannot,  if  they 
would,  speak  or  think  as  Eng- 
lishmen, whose  blood  and  race 
are  the  plain  antithesis  of  our 
own.  And  the  task  which  they 
performed  at  Inverness,  of  sup- 
porting a  cowardly  surrender 
to  their  brother,  Mr  Valera, 
must  have  been  congenial  to 
them.  We  doubt  whether  they 
are  readers  of  Disraeli,  whose 
warning  was  addressed  rather 
to  Christians  than  to  Jews ; 
but  if  they  are,  they  might 
have  recalled  the  wise  words 
of  Sidonia.  "  The  Tories  lose 
an  important  election  " — you 
will  find  the  passage  in  '  Con- 
ingsby,' — "  'tis  the  Jews  come 
forward  to  vote  against  them. 
The  Church  is  alarmed  at  the 
scheme  of  a  latitudinarian  uni- 
versity, and  learns  with  relief 
that  funds  are  not  forthcoming 
for  its  establishment ;  a  Jew 
immediately  advances  and  en- 
dows it."  It  is  by  such  poli- 
cies as  this  that  the  Jews,  in 
Sidonia's  words,  "  must  every 
generation  become  more  power- 
ful and  more  dangerous  to  the 
society  that  is  hostile  to  them  " ; 
and  if  the  discussions  at  Inver- 
ness result  in  the  breaking-up 
of  the  British  Empire,  then 
Disraeli's  prophecy,  made  in 
1844,  will  come  true. 

To  carry  the  argument  a 
step  further  than  Ireland,  you 
will  find  in  '  Coningsby  '  a 


clear  confirmation  of  the  de- 
structive doctrine  set  forth  in 
the  famous  'Protocols,'  lately 
pronounced  a  forgery.  Dis- 
raeli, for  instance,  with  a 
strange  prescience,  foretold  the 
revolution  which  was  coming 
upon  Germany,  and  foretold 
also  by  whose  hands  it  would 
be  contrived.  "  That  mighty 
revolution,"  he  wrote,  "  which 
is  at  this  moment  preparing  in 
Germany,  and  which  will  be, 
in  fact,  a  second  and  greater 
Reformation,  and  of  which  so 
little  is  as  yet  known  in  Eng- 
land, is  entirely  developing 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Jews, 
who  almost  monopolise  the  pro- 
fessorial chairs  of  Germany." 
Nor  is  this  all :  when  he  drew 
Sidonia  as  an  incarnation  of 
the  Hebrew  temperament,  he 
drew  him  frankly  as  the  arch- 
plotter,  the  friend  of  adven- 
turers, secret  agents,  and  poli- 
tical spies — a  cunning  fellow, 
whose  pastime  was  the  "  secret 
history  of  the  world,"  whose 
pleasure  was  "  to  contrast  the 
hidden  motive,  with  the  public 
pretext,  of  transactions."  And 
then,  as  if  to  prove  the  con- 
tinuity of  Jewry's  anarchical 
aspiration,  he  puts  these  words 
in  Sidonia's  mouth  :  "  Yet, 
since  your  society  has  become 
agitated  in  England,  and  power- 
ful combinations  menace  your 
institutions,  you  find  the  once 
loyal  Hebrew  invariably  ar- 
rayed in  the  same  ranks  as  the 
leveller  and  the  latitudinarian, 
and  prepared  to  support  the 
policy  which  may  even  en- 
danger his  life  and  property, 


1921.] 


Authenticity  of  the  'Protocols.' 


559 


rather  than  tamely  continue 
under  a  system  which  seeks  to 
degrade  him."  Where  would 
you  find  a  more  lucid  statement 
of  the  principle  of  Bolshevism, 
as  set  forth  in  the  '  Protocols,' 
than  in  this  passage  ? 

The  '  Protocols  '  are,  indeed, 
an  ingenious  compilation.  They 
gather  together  all  the  com- 
monplaces of  revolution,  espe- 
cially of  Jewish  revolution,  that 
exist.  In  one  sense  they  are 
an  anthology  of  base  familiar 
thoughts.  Mrs  Webster  has 
tracked  much  of  them  to  their 
ancient  sources — Illuminismand 
the  rest — and  set  forth  the 
resemblances  in  parallel  col- 
umns. It  is  therefore  plainly 
irrelevant  to  attempt  to  prove 
the  '  Protocols  '  a  forgery  by 
discovering  the  debt  which  they 
owe  to  a  work  published  in 
1865  by  Maurice  Joly,  and 
entitled  '  Dialogue  aux  Enfers 
entre  Machiavel  et  Montes- 
quieu, ou  la  Politique  de  Ma- 
chiavel au  XIX  Siecle.'  If 
the  compiler  of  the  '  Protocols  ' 
put  his  hand  in  M.  Joly's  sack, 
he  found  little  else  than  stolen 
property  there.  Truly  it  is  a 
dangerous  kind  of  criticism 
which  declines  to  distinguish 
between  forgery  and  plagiarism, 
and  the  author  of  '  The  Truth 
about  "  The  Protocols  "  :  A 
Literary  Forgery,'  seems  to 
have  missed  the  point  of  the 
argument.  Whether  the  '  Pro- 
tocols '  are  what  they  pretend 
to  be,  mm-nt.es  or  reports  of 
meetings  held  in  1901,  we  do 
not  know,  and  evidence  is 
lacking  which  might  prove  their 


origin.  What  is  certain  is  that 
they  contain,  clearly  set  forth, 
the  whole  purpose  and  doctrine 
of  Bolshevism,  that  what  they 
prophesied  in  1901  was  con- 
verted into  solemn  truth  some 
sixteen  years  later.  The  mere 
fact  that  the  words  of  the 
'  Protocols  '  became  deeds  of 
darkness  and  bloodshed  at  the 
appointed  time  is  proof  of  their 
essential  authenticity.  And  no 
matter  whose  hand  compiled 
them,  the  event  has  proved  that 
the  compiler  knew  and  under- 
stood the  innermost  thoughts 
of  the  Jewish  conspirators. 

It  is  by  their  own  fault  that 
the  Jews  are  disliked  and  looked 
upon  with  suspicion  in  what- 
ever country  they  settle.  They 
have  come  forth  boldly,  and 
claimed,  as  did  the  Germans 
before  the  war,  the  privileges 
of  double  citizenship.  On  the 
one  hand,  they  insist  that  they 
are  English  or  French  or  Ger- 
man ;  on  the  other  hand,  that 
they  belong  to  a  separate  and 
superior  race.  At  the  very 
moment  when  they  are  kind 
enough  to  accept  and  to  make 
the  best  of  the  citizenship  of 
the  State  within  which  they 
dwell,  they  claim  aloud  that 
they  form  a  nation  by  them- 
selves. Once  upon  a  time  they 
were  reticent  about  their  origin. 
They  hoped,  vainly  perhaps, 
to  escape  notice.  They  have 
laid  aside  their  reticence  now. 
"  Israel  is  assuredly  a  great 
nation,"  says  the  Eev.  Mr 
Morris  Joseph,  West  London 
Synagogue  of  British  Jews. 
"  The  very  word '  Israel '  proves 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Oct. 


it.  No  mere  sect  or  religious 
community  could  appropriately 
bear  such  a  name.  Israel  is 
recognised  as  a  nation  by  those 
who  see  it ;  no  one  can  possibly 
mistake  it  for  a  mere  sect.  To 
deny  Jewish  nationality  you 
must  deny  the  existence  of 
the  Jew."  *  Doubtless  the  Rev. 
Morris  Joseph  is  in  the  right 
of  it.  The  Jews  are  a  nation. 
By  all  means  let  us  acknow- 
ledge their  claim,  and  we  then 
arrive  at  the  only  logical  con- 
clusion, that  precisely  because 
the  Jews  are  a  nation,  they 
eannot  henceforth  be  permitted 
to  interfere  in  the  Government 
of  Great  Britain,  a  nation 
also,  to  them  alien  and  dis- 
tasteful. No  State  which  re- 
spects its  privileges  can  toler- 
ate a  foreign  State,  organised 
and  often  hostile,  within  its 
borders.  And  he  who  claims 
at  once  British  and  Jewish 
nationality  should  straightway 
be  disfranchised  in  Great 
Britain. 

But  the  Jews,^  a  sepa- 
rate nation,  are  not  content 
to  manage  our  politics  for  us. 
They  must  also  overlook  our  re- 
ligion. '  The  Jewish  Chronicle,' 
with  an  impertinence  which 
even  the  kindly  English  will 
perhaps  resent,  has  taken  hold 
of  a  theological  conference,  held 
not  long  since  at  Cambridge, 
and  declared  that  certain  mod- 
ern Churchmen  "evidence  some 
approach  to  a  recognition  of 
dogmatic  error  for  protesting 


against  which — either  passively 
or  actively — our  people  have 
suffered  so  terribly  throughout 
the  ages."  We  should  have 
thought  that  even  '  The  Jewish 
Chronicle '  could  have  distin- 
guished between  the  people 
which  crucified  Jesus  Christ 
and  the  handful  of  advanced 
professors  who  hesitate  to  be- 
lieve in  His  divinity.  But 
even  if  our  professors  went 
still  further  on  the  road  of 
incredulity,  the  impudent  writer 
of  '  The  Jewish  Chronicle  ' 
would  not  be  satisfied.  "  Even 
so,"  says  he,  "  the  Jew  would 
see  nothing  to  warrant  his 
compromising  his  position  of 
segregation  and  distinctiveness. 
For  there  are  considerations 
of  his  race,  and  there  is  his 
heritage  of  culture ;  and  to 
these,  involving  much  more 
than  religion,  the  Jew  would 
remain  true."  Here  is  a  clear 
statement  indeed  ;  and  though 
we  have  no  desire  to  discuss  re- 
ligion with  '  The  Jewish  Chron- 
icle,' it  is  well  to  remember  its 
reiterated  desire  of  "  segrega- 
tion and  distinctiveness."  By 
his  own  confession  the  Jew  finds 
himself  in  Great  Britain  an 
alien  in  a  foreign  country,  and 
yet  he  uses  his  money  freely 
to  influence  the  politics  and 
the  life  of  the  Empire,  which 
is  necessarily  opposed  to  his 
race  and  to  the  heritage  of  his 
culture.  If  the  English  people 
cannot  understand  the  danger 
which  they  are  incurring  in 


1  For  this  and  some  other  quotations  we  are  indebted  to  '  Jewish  Activities  in 
the  United  States,'  published  by  the  Dearborn  Publishing  Co. 


1921.] 


Jewish  Demands  in  America. 


561 


thus  regarding  the  Jews  with- 
out suspicion,  it  is  not  the 
fault  of  the  Jews,  who  have 
again  and  again  proclaimed 
their  undying  hostility  to  those 
among  whom  they  sojourn. 
And  it  may  be  too  late  to 
take  the  just  measures  of  de- 
fence, when  in  a  moment  of 
crisis  we  find  "  the  Hebrew," 
as  Disraeli  says,  "  arrayed  in 
the  same  ranks  as  the  leveller 
and  the  latitudinarian,  and 
prepared  to  support  the  policy 
which  may  even  endanger  his 
life  and  property" — and  ours 
too. 

However,  Great  Britain  is 
still  a  Christian  country.  It 
seems  as  though  in  the  near 
future  the  United  States  will 
be  compelled  by  Jewish  agita- 
tion to  hide  all  traces  of  their 
religion.  Among  the  aims  of 
the  American  Jewish  Com- 
mittee are  several  which  even 
the  boldest  of  the  Hebrews 
have  not  yet  dared  to  suggest 
in  Great  Britain.  The  Jews 
of  New  York  demand,  with 
confidence,  "  the  suppression 
of  all  references  to  Christ  by 
City,  State,  and  Federal  au- 
thorities, in  public  documents, 
or  at  public  gatherings."  They 
are  determined  to  "  eliminate 
Christian  celebrations  in  public 
schools  and  public  places,  police 
stations,  and  so  on;  public 
displays  of  Christmas  -  trees, 
singing  of  Christmas  carols  and 
Christian  hymns . "  So  sensitive 
are  they  to  criticism  that  they 
insist  upon  "  the  removal  from 
office  or  prosecution  of  all 
public  persons  who  criticise 


the  Jewish  race,"  and  one 
gentleman,  Judge  Otto  A.  Bos- 
alsky,  has  announced  that  he 
"  will  try  to  put  through  a 
Bill  for  the  prosecution  of  all 
persons  who  criticise  "  the  race 
to  which  he  belongs.  It  is  a 
terrific  prospect,  this  easy  in- 
vention of  new  sins  ;  and  so 
well  organised  are  the  Jewish 
societies  in  America  that  if 
the  United  States  do  not  use 
vigilance,  they  may  find  one 
day  that  the  mere  observance 
of  the  Christian  religion  is  con- 
demned by  the  law  of  the  land. 
While  the  Jews  resent  any 
criticism  of  themselves  from 
the  living,  they  are  equally 
determined  to  suppress  any 
of  the  dead  poets  who  have 
dared  to  speak  ill  of  them. 
The  absurdest  incident  in  the 
Jewish  campaign  is  the  at- 
tempt to  forbid  the  reading 
of  Shakespeare's  '  Merchant  of 
Venice '  and  Charles  Lamb's 
'  Tales  from  Shakespeare  '  in 
American  schools.  The  success 
of  the  campaign,  partial  as  it 
has  been,  has  doubtless  satis- 
fied the  pride  of  the  Jews, 
though  it  can  hardly  have 
enhanced  their  reputation  for 
humour,  if  indeed  they  had 
any.  One  would  have  thought 
that  so  ridiculous  a  proposal 
would  have  been  laughed  out 
of  being  in  every  city  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific 
Coast.  But  Galveston,  Texas, 
Cleveland,  Ohio,  Hartford,  Con- 
necticut, and  many  another 
town  have  ignobly  surrendered 
to  the  demand  of  the  Jews, 
who,  emboldened  by  this  tri- 


562 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Oct. 


umph,  may  be  expected  pres- 
ently to  edit  afresh  all  the 
masterpieces  of  English  litera- 
ture, lest  the  delicate  suscepti- 
bilities of  their  children  should 
be  pained  by  the  truth.  We 
have  not  yet  arrived  in  Great 
Britain  at  this  point  of  folly. 
But  the  Jews  are  a  persistent 
people,  and  if  we  do  not  guard 
ourselves  we  shall  discover  one 
day  that  the  privilege  of  reading 
what  we  choose  in  the  works  of 
Shakespeare  has  been  niched 
from  us  by  alien  hands. 

It  is  difficult  to  understand 
what  good  purpose  is  served 
by  the  publication  of  Lord 
Bsher's  book,  foolishly  entitled, 
'The  Tragedy  of  Lord  Kit- 
chener '  (London :  John  Mur- 
ray). The  work  is  a  mixture  of 
irrelevant  gossip  and  rash  judg- 
ment. So  far  as  we  understand 
Lord  Esher,  the  tragedy  of  Lord 
Kitchener  was  that  he  was  older 
and  less  easily  adaptable  in  1914 
than  he  was  in  1898.  Lord 
Esher  has  made  his  meaning 
clear  by  contrasting  a  portrait 
of  Lord  Kitchener  made  in 
1898  with  a  caricature  drawn 
some  twenty  years  later,  an 
artifice  made  popular  many 
years  ago  by  a  magazine  which, 
by  printing  photographs  of 
celebrities  taken  at  several  in- 
tervals, enabled  us  to  mark 
the  decline  and  fall  of  man. 
The  practice  is  not  in  the  best 
taste,  and  assuredly  Lord  Kit- 
chener was  not  exempt  any 
more  than  Lord  Esher  is  him- 
self from  the  chastening  hand 
of  time.  Even  the  distinguished 


politicians  who  were  faintly 
serving  their  country  in  1914, 
and  who  let  us  drift  into  war 
unprepared,  were  not  quite 
the  same  heroes  that  they  were 
consule  Planco,  under  the  bene- 
ficent Government  of  Lord  Salis- 
bury. But  there  is  a  deeper 
reason  why  Lord  Esher's  book 
fails  of  any  discernible  pur- 
pose. He  does  not  help  us 
to  an  appreciation  of  Lord 
Kitchener's  lofty  qualities.  He 
is  content  to  reiterate  the  fail- 
ings which  Lord  Kitchener 
shared  with  all  the  human 
race. 

Lord  Kitchener,  being  a  man, 
made  mistakes.  He  is  said  to 
have  hesitated  to  introduce 
conscription.  Here  he  must 
share  the  responsibility  with 
his  colleagues,  and  before  we 
know  more  than  has  been 
revealed  to  us  at  present,  it 
is  not  easy  to  apportion  cor- 
rectly the  proper  share  of 
blame  to  this  minister  or  that. 
It  is  true  also  that,  to  his 
credit  be  it  said,  Lord  Kit- 
chener had  not  the  gift  of 
handling  Cabinet  ministers  as 
they  like  to  be  handled.  He 
had  been  too  busy  in  the  ser- 
vice of  his  country  to  learn 
the  tricks  of  intrigue  and  sub- 
terfuge which  are  essential  to 
success  in  Westminster.  He 
did  not  stop  to  gauge  pressures 
or  to  accommodate  divided 
opinions.  The  mere  aspect  of 
twenty  -  three  middle  -  class, 
middle-aged,  or  elderly  civil- 
ians pretending  to  conduct  a 
war  appalled  him.  As  Lord 
Esher  says  :  "  The  sharp  legal 


1921.] 


The  Tragedy  of  Lord  Usher. 


663 


and  political  minds  of  his  com- 
peers were  repelled  by  methods 
so  foreign  to  theirs.  Broad- 
spread  are  the  infirmities  of 
human  reason,  and  no  poli- 
tician makes  allowance  for 
faults  which  do  not  happen 
to  be  his."  This  is  true  :  it  is 
also  inapposite.  It  was  not 
Lord  Kitchener's  business,  from 
1914  onwards,  to  conciliate 
the  politicians.  It  was  his 
duty  to  create  an  army,  which 
the  politicians  had  neither  the 
wish  nor  the  capacity  to  create, 
and  to  see  to  it  that  at  the  end 
of  the  war  the  British  Army 
should  be  great  enough  and 
well  enough  trained  to  domin- 
ate the  forces  of  Germany.  In 
other  words,  it  is  by  his  posi- 
tive virtues  that  Lord  Kit- 
chener shall  be  remembered, 
not'  by  the  negative  failings, 
of  which  we  hear  so  much  in 
Lord  Esher's  book. 

What  Lord  Kitchener  did 
for  England  shall  not  be  ob- 
scured by  politicians,  whose 
sensitiveness  had  received  a 
shock.  In  the  first  place,  he 
saw  at  once,  what  escaped  the 
demagogues,  that  the  war  would 
be  a  long  war.  Three  years  he 
named  as  the  minimum.  From 
this  clairvoyance  there  followed 
the  conviction  that  a  large 
army  must  be  raised  at  once, 
must  not  be  frittered  away  in 
drafts,  and  must  be  as  highly 
trained  as  it  is  possible  for  an 
army  to  be.  Lord  Kitchener 
went  calmly  and  deliberately 
to  work.  He  did  not  hasten 
unduly,  nor  did  he  improvise 
his  effects.  He  raised  an  army 


where  before  him  no  army  had 
been,  and  in  due  course  Kit- 
chener's Army  won  the  war. 
It  was  his  own  personal  achieve- 
ment, and  no  malice  ofrthe 
politicians  can  rob  it  of  the 
glory  which  will  cling  to  it  for 
all  time. 

However,  Lord  Esher  con- 
templates him  as  failing  from 
the  first  moment  that  he  set 
foot  in  the  War  Office.  "  He 
was  no  longer  the  K.  of  K.," 
writes  Lord  Esher,  "  of  the 
Sudan  and  South  Africa,  and 
he  only  as  yet  was  aware  of 
the  fact.  Self-reliance,  self- 
sufficiency,  hatred  of  the  written 
word,  dislike  of  functions,  the 
habit  of  verbal  orders,  were  still 
a  part  of  his  being,  but  they 
were  ghosts  of  their  old  selves. 
The  armour  of  his  soul  had 
rusted ;  he  had  noted,  if  others 
had  not,  the  corroding  traces 
of  the  passage  of  the  years." 
And  much  more  to  his  same 
purpose.  It  is  wholly  beside 
the  point.  Lord  Kitchener, 
being  mortal,  could  not  arrest 
the  march  of  the  years.  Wheth- 
er he  was  "rusted"  and  "cor- 
roded "  or  not,  he  did  achieve, 
what  no  other  did  or  could,  the 
army  which  bore  his  name,  and 
which  presently  stood  between 
Great  Britain  and  disaster.  Nor 
is  Lord  Esher  content  to  say 
what  is  in  his  mind  once.  He 
repeats  it  with  a  tiresome  in- 
sistence. Here  is  the  same 
thing,  said  over  again  in  dif- 
ferent words  :  "  The  common 
people,"  he  writes,  "  were  not 
concerned  with  the  Fabian  pro- 
cesses, the  mediocre  reasoning, 


564 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Oct.  1921. 


the  stolid  approach  to  obvious 
conclusions  which  irritated  his 
colleagues.  These  unhappy 
qualities  destroyed  the  admira- 
tion, the  affection,  almost  the 
respect  which  the  statesmen 
and  politicians  who  were  his 
closest  colleagues  and  the  com- 
panions of  his  task  once  had 
felt  for  him/'  Thus  were  the 
politicians  avenged.  They  had 
seen  a  man  come  in  among 
them,  and  they  resented  his 
presence.  One  ray  of  hope  lit 
up  their  minds  when  Lord 
Kitchener  set  out  for  the  Dar- 
danelles, and  they  were  con- 
vinced that  he  would  never 
come  back.  He  returned  to 


disappoint  them.  "  Since  King 
John  had  word  that  '  the  devil 
was  unchained, '  "  writes  Lord 
Esher,  "  no  wanderer  had  re- 
turned home  so  unwelcome." 
The  politicians,  basely  ungrate- 
ful, thought  that  they  had  got 
rid  of  their  enemy,  and  they 
were  mistaken.  But  what  they 
thought  of  Lord  Kitchener  was 
their  tragedy,  not  his ;  and  if, 
in  1914,  he  had  not  per- 
formed his  appointed  task, 
they  would  not  have  been 
there  to  twist  welcome  into 
regret.  They  would,  one  and 
all,  have  been  lying  under 
the  heel  of  the  conquering 
German. 


Printed  by  William  BlacJncood  and  Sons. 


BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE. 


No.  MCCLXXIII.       NOVEMBER  1921. 


VOL.  OCX. 


DESEET  BLADES. 


i. 


ALL  roads  lead  to  ... 

I  was  being  driven  away 
from  the  "  seats  of  the  mighty," 
where  I  had  sat  amused,  amused 
others,  and  occasionally  worked. 
The  engine  suddenly  made  a 
coughing  noise,  and  the  car 
stopped.  A  number  of  donkeys 
laden  with  carpets,  an  Arab 
carrying,  Eastern  fashion,  a 
tray  of  mineral  waters  of  every 
hue  from  dark  blue  to  crimson, 
and  my  driver,  wanted  at  the 
same  moment  the  same  bit  of 
terra  firma.  Into  the  mele'e  a 
Jew  had  wandered,  also  an 
Arab  policeman,  whose  arms 
and  legs  now  moved  as  if 
worked  by  string.  Thanks  to 
my  driver,  who  for  five  minutes 
made  use  of  many  languages, 
including  broken  Hindustani, 
broken  Arabic,  and  much  Cock- 
ney, we  were  soon  on  our  way 
again.  The  Arab,  who  had 
lost  his  pretty  collection  of 
mineral  waters,  was  left  to 
the  Arab  policeman,  who  had 

VOL.  ccx. — NO.  MCCLXXIII. 


produced  a  notebook  and  pencil, 
although  it  is  probable  that 
he  could  not  write  a  word  of 
any  language. 

We  made  our  way  through 
the  main  street  of  the  City  of 
Two  Eivers  where  East  meets 
West ;  for  here  the  Arab  shop- 
keeper squats  amongst  his  many 
wares,  flies,  and  smells,  under 
a  naked  oil  light,  while 
the  electric  light  blazes  on  the 
unmetalled  and  dusty  street ; 
camels  walk  with  a  majestic 
tread  alongside  a  Rolls-Royce  ; 
the  latest  fashions  from  Paris 
are  passed  by  garments  of  the 
Adamic  age ;  and  the  latest 
music-hall  melody  is  blended 
with  the  old  call  to  prayer 
cried  from  the  minarets  of  the 
blue-domed  mosque  of  Omar. 
We  passed  through  the  north 
gate  of  the  city  which  divides 
the  infusion  of  East  and  West 
from  the  stony  desert.  The 
gate  before  which  armies  had 
halted,  and  through  which  no 


566 


Desert  Blades. 


[Nov. 


one  had  been  allowed  to  pass 
without  giving  account  of  him- 
self and  a  bribe  to  the  keeper, 
is  now  thrown  open,  and  the 
weary  and  hungry  pilgrim  from 
the  desert,  the  fanatic  tribes- 
man, and  the  avaricious  Jew 
are  able  to  pass  unheeded 
even  by  the  challenge  of  a 
sentry. 

Beaching  the  railway  station, 
I  plunged  into  a  mass  of  ex- 
cited Arabs,  for  a  deputation 
from  the  great  city  was  going 
to  Basrah  to  greet  the  new 
King  of  Irak.  As  many  of  the 
deputation  and  their  menials 
had  not  travelled  in  a  train 
before,  the  experience  found 
some  of  them  suspicious,  some 
more  excited  than  others,  but 
all  pleased,  for  there  was  noth- 
ing to  pay  for  the  long  jour- 
ney. A  shrill  whistle  from  the 
engine  drowned  the  babble  of 
many  voices,  and  as  we  steamed 
towards  the  barren  plain,  the 
City  of  Two  Eivers  appeared 
like  a  beautiful  picture  in  a 
faded  frame. 

We  reached  Diwaniyeh  just 
after  daybreak.  Twelve  months 
previously  I  had  left  this  town 
with  its  ancient  mud  fort  and 
hundreds  of  reed  huts  to  go 
on  a  journey  which  proved  to 
be  most  adventurous.1  The 
reed  huts  were  no  more,  and 
the  thick  mud  walls  of  the 
fort  had  been  perforated  by 
bursting  shells,  while  the  outer 
buildings  of  the  fort  had  been 
crumbled  by  high  explosives. 
Only  the  small  mosque  re- 
mained untouched — a  monu- 


ment of  British  chivalry,  or, 
as  it  is  sometimes  expressed, 
the  paradoxical  inconsistency 
of  the  British  race.  Fanatical 
tribesmen  may  torture  to  death 
their  unfortunate  victims,  may 
and  often  do  make  a  human 
slaughter  -  house  of  their 
mosques,  and  yet  if  a  bullet 
or  shell  hits  a  mosque  we 
consider  that  we  have  com- 
mitted a  greater  crime. 

It  was  after  noon  when  the 
train  pulled  up  at  Eumaitha, 
and  instructing  the  Indian 
station-master  to  detach  my 
truck,  I  made  my  way  to  the 
political  billet,  which  was  the 
only  building  where  the  walls 
had  been  left  standing.  With 
a  mixed  feeling  of  curiosity 
and  reverence  I  approached 
the  building,  for  it  was  here 
that  a  gallant  band  of  sepoys 
numbering  less  than  two  hun- 
dred rifles  had  kept  our  flag 
flying  in  spite  of  many  on- 
rushes made  by  thousands  of 
ferocious  fanatics,  and  the 
greater  enemies  of  hunger, 
thirst,  disease,  and  the  blazing 
sun  of  the  desert.  No  artist's 
work  perpetuates  the  memory 
of  that  gallant  stand,  but  the 
brave  defenders  are  happy  in 
the  knowledge  that  our  flag 
still  flies  unfurled  over  the 
building. 

My  way  inside  was  blocked 
by  an  Arab  sentry,  who  in- 
formed me  that  the  Poli- 
tical Adviser,  who,  I  under- 
stood, was  an  Arab,  had  left 
for  Basrah,  and  the  courtyard 
was  occupied  by  his  wives. 


An  Adventure  with  Arabs" — '  Maga,'  August  1921. 


1921.] 


Desert  Blades. 


567 


Feeling  in  need  of  refreshment, 
for  it  was  extremely  hot,  I 
took  the  sentry's  advice  and 
discovered  the  abode  of  the 
interpreter,  whom  I  found  to  be 
an  Indian,  and  who  was  acting 
as  an  Assistant  Political  Ad- 
viser. I  had  to  wait  but  a  few 
moments  for  a  cup  of  tea,  but 
before  I  had  finished  the  bever- 
age several  sheikhs  had  gathered 
around.  A  pardon  had  been 
recently  extended  to  all  (ex- 
cept a  very  limited  number 
whose  crimes  would  make  even 
a  savage  shudder)  who  had 
taken  part  in  the  late  rebellion. 
Each  sheikh  was  introduced 
to  me,  and  not  one  appeared 
to  be  in  the  slightest  em- 
barrassed, although  all  present 
had  a  few  months  before 
made  every  effort  to  destroy 
the  British  rule.  Even  the 
sheikh  whose  tribe  had  at- 
tempted and  nearly  accom- 
plished my  murder  spoke  with 
the  greatest  ease.  Had  I 
been  unacquainted  with  the 
characteristics  of  these  dwellers 
of  the  desert  I  would  have 
deemed  their  attitude  imperti- 
nence, whereas  it  was  some- 
thing to  be  admired,  for,  in 
spite  of  the  colossal  losses  these 
sheikhs  had  suffered  in  men, 
cattle,  and  estate,  they  still 
maintained  their  stately  and 
independent  manners. 

Making  as  brief  as  possible 
the  usual  lengthy  conversation 
which  in  Oriental  language 
must  be  the  preposition  to 
the  subject,  I  requested  the 
loan  of  a  horse,  as  my  purpose 
was  to  visit  Sheikh  Hussan 
Agha,  who  had  rescued  me 


from  a  horde  of  fanatical  tribes- 
men. A  grey  Arab  stallion, 
saddled  with  a  cloth  saddle 
of  many  colours,  with  pieces 
of  tin  attached  by  string  to 
serve  as  stirrups,  was  quickly 
hurried  before  me  by  two 
shabanas  (mounted  Arab  police- 
men), who  were  to  accompany 
me  on  my  long  ride  through 
the  desert.  After  compliments, 
which  were  cut  short  by  the 
fiery  stallion's  impatience  to 
be  gone,  I  galloped  away, 
leaving  the  two  shabanas  to 
foUow. 

I  had  to  complete  a  journey 
similar  to  the  one  I  had 
accomplished  a  year  ago,  in 
which  I  nearly  forfeited  my 
life.  I  was  pleased  to  think 
that  this  trip  offered  no  such 
excitement,  although  I  had 
been  warned  that  a  nomad 
and  savage  tribe  was  raiding 
the  territory  through  which  we 
were  about  to  pass.  The  track 
of  my  previous  journey  was 
impassable  owing  to  water 
which  had  been  canalised  from 
the  river,  and  I  therefore  al- 
lowed the  shabanas  to  take 
the  lead. 

Avoiding  the  flooded  patches 
where  hopeful  semi  -  nomads 
were  trying  to  grow  rice  and 
inviting  disappointment  —  for 
in  a  few  weeks  the  river  would 
halve  its  supply,  and  the  wetted 
patch  would  turn  into  clay 
and  then  into  sand,  and  the 
labour  of  many  hands  would 
be  wafted  into  the  desert — we 
did  not  attempt  to  check  the 
energy  of  the  horses. 

We  passed  the  shelled  re- 
mains of  the  mud  fort  from 


568 


Desert  Blades. 


[Nov. 


which  I  remembered  I  had 
received  a  storm  of  bullets. 
An  Arab  girl,  a  minder  of  the 
flock,  screamed  and  ran  as  we 
approached  a  number  of  camel- 
hair  tents.  A  dog  howled  and 
ran.  in  front  of  an  old  man, 
who  approached  us  and  re- 
spectfully asked  our  needs, 
while  several  faces  full  of  ex- 
cited curiosity  peered  from  un- 
der the  tents.  Eeturning  the 
salaams,  and  refusing  the 
offered  refreshment  of  sour 
goat's  milk,  I  dismounted  and 
took  a  primitive  and  quick 
bath  in  the  marshes ;  and 
having  cooled  my  mount  by 
rubbing  him  down  with  wet 
reeds,  for  I  knew  that  no  more 
water  would  be  obtainable  until 
we  had  reached  our  destina- 
tion, I  mounted  and  pressed 
onward  into  the  barren  desert. 
We  were  able  to  follow  the 
old  camel  track  which  I  knew 
so  well,  and  I  therefore  took 
the  lead.  After  covering  a 
few  miles  I  was  surprised  by 
a  call  from  the  shabanas,  who 
begged  me  to  take  another 
direction.  I  soon  discovered 
that  a  number  of  small  tents 
to  be  seen  in  the  distance 
was  the  cause  of  these  en- 
treaties. I  was  told  that 
these  tents  were  the  tem- 
porary abode  of  the  desert 
raiders  who  had  very  recently 
killed  five  hundred  of  the  Ajib 
tribe,  through  whose  territory 
we  were  passing,  a  section  of 
which  tribe  was  governed  by 
Sheikh  Hussan  Agha.  The 
raiders  were  resting  from  their 
gory  pursuits ;  but  the  men 
of  the  Ajib  had  never  been 


conquered,  and  were  prepar- 
ing to  wipe  out  the  stain, 
and  soon  these  sons  of  dogs 
would  be  meat  for  the  jackal. 
Thus  Allah  had  willed.  Of 
the  cause  for  this  raid  I  had 
no  knowledge,  but  I  had  seen 
something  of  the  spirit  of  re- 
venge which  fills  the  Arab. 

Much  to  the  surprise  of  the 
shabanas,  who  were  muttering 
a  prayer  to  Allah,  I  rode  to- 
wards the  tents,  not  in  order 
to  seek  adventure,  but  to  take 
a  snapshot.  Except  for  an 
extremely  evil  -  looking  indi- 
vidual, whose  arm  was  crudely 
bandaged,  the  tents  appeared 
to  be  deserted,  but  I  was  too 
accustomed  to  the  desert  to 
think  that  the  wounded  Arab 
was  alone.  With  a  careful  eye 
I  examined  the  surroundings, 
and  counted  no  less  than  sixty 
forms,  which  lay  invisible  ex- 
cept to  the  practised  eye.  Had 
I  been  courting  excitement  I 
would  have  advanced  to  these 
forms,  but  my  mission  lay  in 
another  direction,  so  I  galloped 
back  to  the  shabanas,  who  had 
deemed  it  wise  to  stay  in  the 
rear. 

We  had  still  another  six 
miles  to  cover,  so  I  declined 
to  listen  to  further  tales  of  the 
raid.  I  knew  that  I  should 
learn  full  details  from  Sheikh 
Hussan  Agha,  whose  exaggera- 
tions would  be  limited.  I  was 
relieved  when  we  reached  the 
main  Euphrates,  which  was 
the  end  of  the  journey,  for 
riding  a  frenzied  Arab  stallion 
is  as  uncomfortable  as  it  is 
exciting. 

As  soon  as  I  had  dismounted, 


1921.] 


Desert  Blades. 


569 


men  were  to  be  seen  rowing  a 
bellum  across  the  river  towards 
us.  No  signal  had  been  given 
by  me,  nor  had  I  previously 
intimated  my  intended  visit, 
yet  here  was  abundant  proof 
that  I  was  expected.  This 
mysterious  transmission  of  news 
is  one  of  the  many  secrets 
which  are  guarded  by  the 
desert. 

Keeping  my  eyes  on  the  mud 
fort,  the  residence  of  Sheikh 
Hussan  Agha,  I  observed  the 
arrival  of  several  horsemen, 
who  dismounted  and  passed 
into  the  fort.  I  afterwards 
learnt  that  these  horsemen, 
who  were  the  elders  of  the 
tribe,  had  been  informed 
of  my  coming.  Several  had 
travelled  far,  and  must 
have  received  the  myste- 
rious warning  at  least  two 
hours  before.  I  recognised  one 
of  the  men  with  the  bellum 
as  the  man  who  acted  as 
paddle-man  when  I  had  been 
smuggled  through  the  hostile 
tribes. 

Entering  the  courtyard,  the 
elders,  who  had  formed  them- 
selves into  line,  bade  me  enter 
the  guest-house,  a  small  mud 
building  of  one  room,  the  floor 
of  which  was  covered  with 
rich  carpets.  I  was  disap- 
pointed to  find  that  Hussan 
Agha  was  not  present,  for  I 
was  anxious  to  meet  him  again. 
Mystery  surrounded  this  sheikh, 
and  many  had  wondered  at 
his  actions  during  the  late 
rebellion.  When  half  a  million 
fanatics  had  ranged  themselves 
in  holy  war  against  the  foreign 
infidel,  raising  their  voices  and 


weapons  for  Allah  to  witness 
their  oath ;  when  messengers 
of  war  were  galloping  from 
tribe  to  tribe,  telling  wonderful 
tales  of  the  retreat  of  the 
infidels  and  the  abundance  of 
easily-gained  loot ;  when  the 
Sent  Ones  of  the  mighty  Pro- 
phet were  scattering  holy  pro- 
mises to  the  warriors :  this 
sheikh,  deserted  by  all  but  his 
immediate  followers,  stood  firm 
in  his  belief  in  the  wisdom  of 
British  rule.  Nor  could  the 
persuasion  of  bribes  and  the 
threats  of  the  Sent  Ones,  or 
the  scornful  contempt  and  the 
warlike  activities  of  the  neigh- 
bouring tribes  against  his  house, 
shake  the  belief  of  Sheikh 
Hussan  Agha.  When  he  had 
violated  all  the  laws  of  the 
great  Prophet  by  sheltering 
an  unbeliever,  they,  having 
failed  by  other  means  to 
enlist  his  services,  sent  a 
messenger  of  death  to  him ; 
and  yet  Sheikh  Hussan  Agha 
survived. 

After  paying  many  compli- 
ments, the  elders  informed 
me  that  the  Sheikh  had  left 
at  dawn  for  Samawah,  an 
ancient  town  some  thirty  miles 
away,  but  a  messenger  had 
already  departed  to  inform  him 
of  my  presence.  I  had  a 
message  of  greeting  written  in 
Arabic  for  Sheikh  Hussan  Agha. 
The  scribe  of  the  tribe  was 
immediately  summoned,  and 
the  message  was  read  aloud. 
A  mounted  messenger  was  then 
called  and  made  to  repeat  the 
message,  and  when  the  gather- 
ing were  satisfied  of  the  mes- 
senger's accuracy,  they  ordered 


570 


Desert  Blades. 


[Nov. 


him  to  gallop  to  their  sheikh, 
and  warned  him  not  to  tarry 
for  friend  or  foe.  Coffee  was 
served,  and  each  elder  in  turn 
attempted  to  engage  me  in 
conversation  ;  but  my  limited 
knowledge  of  their  language 
made  the  conversation  very 
difficult,  and  more  was  under- 
stood by  signs  than  by  word 
of  mouth.  The  mosquitoes 
were  as  numerous  as  the  sand- 
flies,  and  in  spite  of  the  efforts 
of  a  boy  who  boasted  of  a  fan, 
I  sat  in  great  discomfort.  The 
pests  soon  became  too  numerous 
even  for  the  elders,  who  had 
wrapped  their  faces  in  their 
head-gear  and  tucked  their 
feet  under  their  abbas,  so  we 
made  our  way  to  the  court- 
yard. 

The  sun  was  spending  its 
last  rays  over  the  "  great  wave- 
less  sea  of  sand,"  and  as  heaven 
touched  earth  with  the  kiss  of 
rest  the  elders  ceased  their 
babble,  and  a  high  -  pitched 
voice  from  the  small  mosque 
outside  the  fort  cried,  "  La 
TJlah  ilia  Allah  wa  Mohammed 
rassool  Allah  "  (there  is  but 
one  God,  the  God,  and  Mo- 
hammed is  the  Prophet  of  God). 
Each  one  present  turned  to- 
wards Mecca,  and  commenced 
his  homage  to  Allah  by  touch- 
ing the  ground  three  times  with 
his  forehead.  From  the  muffled 
murmur  of  prayer  I  heard  the 
words,  "  Mohammed  is  great." 
After  the  prayers  had  been 
concluded  we  moved  outside 
the  fort  to  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  the  usual  meal  of 
chicken  and  rice  was  served, 


the  Arabs  forming  a  circle 
while  I  squatted  in  the 
centre. 

A  wooden  bench  covered 
with  carpets  was  brought  to 
me,  and  each  elder,  having 
satisfied  himself  that  I  was 
comfortable,  salaamed  and  de- 
parted, wishing  me  an  undis- 
turbed slumber.  The  sand- 
flies  and  mosquitoes  had  other 
views,  and  little  sleep  did  I 
obtain.  Except  for  the  occa- 
sional howl  of  a  dog  and 
shriek  of  a  jackal,  complete 
silence  reigned  over  the  vast 
plain,  while  a  young  moon 
made  her  way  through  the 
ocean  of  stars. 

The  silence  was  suddenly 
broken  by  the  clatter  of  horses' 
hoofs,  and  in  a  few  seconds  a 
horse,  covered  with  foam,  reared 
itself  near  my  bench,  and  the 
next  moment  the  rider,  Sheikh 
Hussan  Agha,  was  offering  with 
much  ceremony  his  respectful 
salaams.  So  pleased  was  he 
with  my  presence  that  broken 
Hindustani  was  too  slow  for 
him,  and  after  saying,  "  Allah 
is  great,"  he  continued  in  his 
native  tongue.  I  told  him  that 
I  wished  to  be  mounted  at 
dawn,  and  after  saying  that 
he  would  be  pleased  to  accom- 
pany me  to  Eumaitha,  he 
departed,  murmuring  as  he 
went,  "  Allah  is  great." 

The  mosquitoes  and  sand- 
flies  did  not  cease  their  labours, 
and  it  was  a  great  relief  when 
I  saw  a  light  -  blue  streak 
gradually  widen  over  the  dark 
blue  heavens.  Then  line  after 
line,  each  of  a  different  hue, 


1921.] 


Desert  Blades. 


571 


blended  into  an  ocean  of  light 
until  a  streak  of  pure  gold 
appeared,  and  all  colours,  as 
if  in  homage,  faded  before  the 
golden  monarch  of  the  desert 
— the  sun.  The  "  people  of 
the  house  "  were  already  astir, 
and  as  I  entered  the  small 
room  sweetened  tea  was  offered 
to  me.  The  horses  had  been 
saddled  by  the  shabanas.  In- 
dicating my  willingness  to 
mount  at  once,  for  much 
ground  had  to  be  covered  be- 
fore the  terrible  heat  of  the 
day,  Hussan  Agha  gave  orders 
for  the  horses  to  be  taken 
across  the  river,  and  bade  me 
go  to  the  canoe  in  which  we 
were  to  cross.  I  was  surprised 
to  learn  that  several  elders 
were  to  accompany  us.  Those 
elders  who  were  not  journeying 
with  us  paused  for  a  moment 
to  pass  the  goodwill  of  Allah 
to  me,  and  then  salaamed  and 
went  their  way. 

Full  out  we  went  over  the 
dry  plain,  each  horse  attempt- 
ing to  outdo  the  remainder. 
Sheikh  Hussan  Agha,  who  was 
best  mounted,  took  the  lead, 
and  soon  I  discovered  that 
instead  of  heading  towards 
Eumaitha  we  were  going  farther 
into  the  desert.  Suddenly  the 
sheikh  drew  rein,  and  my 
mount,  whose  actions  I  had 
been  unable  to  control,  ow- 
ing to  the  improvised  bridle, 
stopped,  and  the  cloth  saddle, 
which  had  been  fastened  by 
string,  moved  forward  to  the 
horse's  head.  In  consequence 
I  found  myself  lying  on  the 
ground,  with  all  the  sheikhs 


making  eager  inquiries  regard- 
ing my  injuries. 

Sheikh  Hussan  Agha  now 
insisted  that  I  should  ride  his 
horse,  which  had  a  European 
saddle.  Again  we  went  full 
out,  and  being  more  comfort- 
ably mounted,  I  experienced 
the  joy  of  a  hunt  We 
stopped  near  some  empty  reed 
huts,  and  here  Hussan  Agha 
told  me  the  story  of  the  com- 
mencement of  the  recent  raid. 

"By  the  will  of  Allah," 
said  Hussan  Agha,  "  the 
British  Government  has  been 
kind  to  me  and  my  people, 
and  Allah  has  been  pleased  to 
increase  my  families  and  their 
flocks.  These  small  reed  huts 
from  where  started  my  sorrows, 
which  have  been  heavy  for  four 
days,  housed  one  family,  sixty- 
eight  followers  of  the  Prophet, 
their  donkeys  and  their  fowls. 
The  day  was  nearly  over,  and 
the  women  were  preparing  the 
meals  of  rice  for  their  lords, 
when  a  scream  from  a  young 
one  was  heard,  and  four  hun- 
dred sons  of  dogs  rushed  for- 
ward with  their  knives  and 
spears  and  killed  all,  even  the 
donkeys  and  the  fowls.  Allah 
had  not  been  pleased  to  send 
us  a  warning,  and  in  the 
twinkle  of  a  star  all  this  was 
done,  and  in  such  a  manner 
that  no  warning  was  carried 
to  Hussain  Ali  Hussen,  the 
master  of  the  next  family, 
whose  settlement  lies  two  miles 
yonder." 

At  this  moment  Sheikh  Hus- 
san Agha  returned  to  his  native 
tongue.  Interrupting  him,  I 


572 


Desert  Blades. 


[Nov. 


expressed  my  sorrow,  and  asked 
him  to  tell  me  the  full  story 
when  we  reached  Eumaitha, 
where,  by  the  aid  of  an  in- 
terpreter, I  should  be  able  to 
follow  the  details  more  easily. 

Again  we  moved  forward,  and 
this  time  our  direction  was  to- 
wards Eumaitha.  We  passed 
many  charred  patches,  each 
of  which  I  understood  to  be 
the  remains  of  a  family  settle- 
ment. Now  and  then  a  wild 
dog,  whose  swelled  belly  made 
me  shudder  as  I  thought  of 
what  its  meal  must  have  been, 
was  to  be  seen  prowling  around 
the  dark  patches.  We  drew 
rein  near  a  cluster  of  camel- 
hair  tents,  and  an  old  Arab, 
whose  hands  were  partly 
wrapped  in  worsted  which 
showed  a  red  tinge  of  blood, 
came  forward  and  salaamed. 
He  was  followed  by  a  youth 
who  had  received  dagger 
wounds  in  neck  and  arm.  They 
were  not  yet  dry,  but  this 
youth,  with  plaited  locks  reach- 
ing to  his  waist,  grinned  and 
produced  a  dagger,  and  showed 
that  he  had  not  lost  his  love 
for  its  use.  At  my  request 
we  did  not  call  at  any  other 
camp,  for  we  still  had  a  long 
journey  before  us,  and  the 
sun  was  already  making  its 
presence  felt. 

An  hour  of  good  going 
brought  us  to  the  marshes, 
and  instead  of  making  a  de- 
tour Sheikh  Hussan  Agha  rode 
straight  ahead.  Thanks  to  the 
horse,  I  received  nothing  more 


than  a  wetting.  The  last  two 
miles  of  the  journey  were  made 
into  a  race,  and  the  best 
jumper  won. 

The  Arab  Political  Adviser 
had  not  returned,  so  I  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  of  his 
assistant  to  make  use  of  his 
office,  in  which,  to  my  surprise, 
I  found  the  sheikhs  of  Eumaitha 
waiting  to  pay  their  compli- 
ments to  me.  I  returned  the 
salaams,  but  as  my  appetite 
for  food  at  the  moment  was 
greater  than  my  appetite  for 
conversation,  I  excused  myself, 
and  after  having  been  assured 
that  my  companions  would 
receive  the  hospitality  of  the 
sheikhs  of  Eumaitha  I  re- 
paired to  another  room,  where 
I  enjoyed  a  meal  which  had 
been  prepared  by  the  thought- 
ful interpreter. 

Eefreshed  by  the  meal,  I 
invited  Sheikh  Hussan  Agha 
and  the  interpreter,  in  whom 
I  had  much  confidence,  to  the 
room,  and  begged  Sheikh  Hus- 
san Agha  to  tell  me  the  story 
of  his  life.  At  first  he  moved 
uneasily  around  the  room,  ex- 
amining the  door  and  pulling 
aside  the  heavy  curtains  which 
covered  the  open  recesses  in 
the  wall.  In  order  to  put 
him  at  ease,  I  asked  for  sen- 
tries to  be  placed  at  conve- 
nient positions,  and  this  hav- 
ing been  done,  he  squatted 
near  me,  and  in  a  low  and 
deep  voice  commenced  his  story. 
This  is  the  story  which  Sheikh 
Hussan  Aga  told. 


1921.] 


Desert  Blades. 


573 


n. 


"  Good,  how  good,  when  one  who  dies  unjustly  leaves 
a  son  behind  him  to  avenge  his  death." — ODYSS. 


In  the  bleak  and  stony  plain 
outside  the  City  of  Two  Eivers 
there  is  a  track  which  leads  to 
the  inhospitable  mountains  of 
Kurdistan,  and  beside  this 
track  my  father  built  a  reed 
home  for  his  family.  It  was 
a  strange  land,  and  we  had 
strangers  around  us,  for  my 
father  had  been  sheikh  of  the 
third  house  of  the  Ajib,  but 
he  had  been  forced  to  flee. 
As  a  boy  I  used  to  stay  near 
the  track  and  watch  the  lonely 
caravans  laden  with  riches  and 
fair  girls  vanish  towards  the 
mountains.  Some  nights  the 
wind  would  bring  screams  to 
us,  which  told  us  that  a  caravan 
would  never  complete  its  jour- 
ney, for  the  people  who  lived 
in  the  mountains  were  not  of 
our  country,  and  were  ever 
ready  to  murder  whether  there 
was  much  or  little  loot  to  be 
gained. 

My  father  often  told  me  how 
he  had  been  cheated  out  of  his 
land  of  many  pastures,  and  as 
I  advanced  in  years  I  became 
determined  to  regain  all  that 
my  father  had  lost.  The  man 
who  was  responsible  for  our 
loss  was  a  Turkish  official 
whose  fairness  was  limited  ac- 
cording to  the  bribe  he  re- 
ceived, and  he  often  preferred 
payment  in  women  to  payment 
in  silver.  When  I  was  about 
ten  years  of  age  my  father  gave 
me  a  dagger,  and  with  that 

VOL.  ccx. — NO.  MCCLxxm. 


dagger  I  vowed  to  kill  the  man 
who  had  robbed  us,  and  Allah 
was  a  witness  to  that  vow. 

The  cold  frosts  of  the  winter 
and  the  hot  winds  of  the  sum 
mer  came  and  went  until  the 
great  sheikh  for  whom  my 
father  and  I  were  obliged  to 
labour  told  me  that  I  was  to 
go  with  him  and  take  horses 
to  a  foreign  country  called 
India.  Before  we  rode  away 
two  true  holy  servants  of  Allah 
came  to  me  from  the  Imam 
and  warned  me  that  I  was  going 
to  a  country  full  of  unbelievers, 
and  that  speech  with  these  in- 
fidels would  mean  everlasting 
burning  hell  for  me,  for  Allah 
was  great  and  knew  all  things. 

When  going  through  the  de- 
sert to  Basrah  we  were  attacked 
by  robbers.  Allah  was  great, 
for  I  killed  ten  of  the  robbers, 
who  were  not  so  difficult  to 
kill  as  the  jackals  on  which  I 
had  learnt  to  use  my  father's 
dagger.  The  sheikh  promised 
me  much  money  for  my  good 
work,  for  we  had  lost  but  one 
horse. 

It  took  us  a  long  time  to 
reach  the  foreign  country,  and 
the  river  down  which  we  went 
was  so  wide  that  we  saw  but 
one  bank.  The  foreign  country, 
India,  was  full  of  strange  and 
beautiful  sights,  and  here  I  met 
for  the  first  time  the  British 
Hakim,  and  much  did  I  see 
of  his  power.  No  bribes  did 

Y  2 


574 


Desert  Blades. 


[Nov. 


the  British  Hakim  want,  and 
for  ever  will  I  remember  it. 

After  my  master  had  sold 
the  horses,  we  returned  to  our 
native  country.  My  master 
gave  me  so  much  money  that 
I  was  able  to  buy  some  of  the 
land  from  which  my  father  had 
been  driven.  The  great  Ajib 
tribe  then  numbered  10,000, 
and  was  divided  into  three 
houses,  of  one  of  which  my 
father  was  the  real  sheikh. 
When  my  father  would  not 
provide  two  beautiful  maidens 
for  the  harem  of  the  Sultan, 
the  Turkish  tax-collector  who 
had  made  the  demand,  and 
who  also  wanted  a  maiden  for 
himself,  caused  my  father  to 
flee ;  the  second  son  of  the 
third  wife  of  Sheikh  Mutliq 
ruled  in  my  father's  place,  and 
gave  many  bribes  to  the  tax- 
collector.  I  remembered  well 
the  ways  of  the  British  Hakim, 
and  soon  the  people  of  the 
Ajib  remembered  me  as  the 
son  of  my  father,  and  there 
was  much  talk  against  the 
sheikh  who  ruled  in  my  father's 
place. 

One  night  I  heard  a  scream 
near  my  hut,  and  taking  the 
true  steel  of  my  father  I  went 
forward  and  found  three  menials 
of  Sheikh  Mutliq  carrying  away 
the  daughter  of  one  of  my 
hired  land  servants.  Allah  was 
great,  and  the  weapon  did  not 
fail,  and  the  hungry  jackals 
soon  drew  near.  Next  day  a 
signal  for  war  against  me  and 
my  hired  landsmen  was  given 
by  Sheikh  Mutliq,  but  Allah 
was  great,  and  I  saw  the 
sign  J  given  by  many  of  the 


Ajib.  Only  a  few  answered 
the  signal  given  by  Sheikh 
Mutliq,  but  that  few  numbered 
ten  times  my  small  band.  Ere 
Allah  closed  the  light  of  day 
steel  clashed  on  steel,  and  great 
was  the  slaughter ;  but  if 
numbers  were  against  us  Allah 
was  with  ns,  and  as  soon  as  I 
had  been  wounded  and  no 
longer  able  for  the  time  being 
to  hold  my  steel,  I  gave  the 
secret  sign  and  all  the  people 
of  my  father's  house  sought  my 
side.  Sheikh  Mutliq  fled  with 
the  wings  of  night. 

With  the  dawn  rode  gallop- 
ing messengers  over  the  desert 
to  seek  my  father  and  bring 
him  back  to  his  house  and  his 
people ;  but,  alas  !  the  mes- 
sengers found  that  the  home 
on  the  lonely  track  was  no 
more,  for  the  raiders  from  the 
mountains  had  passed  that 
way,  and  such  was  the  will  of 
Allah.  On  hearing  the  sad 
news  the  people  of  the  Ajib 
wept  for  three  days  and  three 
nights.  By  the  laws  of  the 
Prophet  I  was  made  ruler  of 
my  father's  land  and  his  people, 
and  by  the  will  of  Allah  my 
people  prospered  and  multi- 
plied, and  except  for  a  few 
raids  made  by  the  rovers  of 
the  desert  peace  reigned  over 
the  land. 

My  spies  continued  to  send 
me  by  secret  means  full  news 
of  the  Turkish  official  who  had 
caused  my  father  much  grief, 
and  now  I  learnt  that  this  son 
of  a  dog  and  unfaithful  fol- 
lower of  the  Prophet  was  com- 
ing to  Aweid  to  collect  his 
tribal  dues  and  bribes.  He 


1921.] 


Desert  Blades. 


575 


arrived  as  the  sunlight  was 
fading,  and  ere  Allah  had  lit 
the  lights  of  heaven  the  Turk 
made  known  his  demands, which 
included  the  fairest  maiden  of 
the  Ajib.  A  couch  of  carpets 
was  prepared  for  him  outside 
the  fort  and  near  the  Imam. 
He  soon  grew  impatient  of 
waiting,  and  had  to  be  told 
that  as  the  young  maiden  was 
unwilling  at  present,  a  visitor 
would  come  to  his  couch  as 
the  night  advanced.  His  im- 
patience vanished  at  this  pro- 
mise, and  he  said  that  he  had 
made  a  wrong  count  of  the 
taxes,  and  in  consequence  he 
returned  much  silver.  When 
earth  was  wrapped  in  the  cloak 
of  blackness  a  white  form  ap- 
proached the  couch,  and  the 
Turk  rose  to  welcome  the  visi- 
tor. Impatient,  the  Turk 
plucked  away  the  veil  from 
the  visitor,  and  that  moment 
death  looked  him  in  the  face. 
Ere  his  hand  moved  to  his 
pistol  the  true  weapon  of  my 
father  had  opened  the  vein, 
and  Allah  was  the  witness  of 
the  fulfilment  of  my  oath. 
Next  morning  the  couch  only 
contained  a  few  dry  bones, 
for  the  jackals  and  wild  dogs 
had  feasted  during  the  night. 

News  soon  reached  the  Turk- 
ish Government  of  the  fate  of 
the  tax-collector,  and  although 
they  were  eager  for  revenge, 
greater  events,  which  filled 
them  with  anxiety,  had  taken 
place,  for  the  British  were 
now  advancing  in  the  country. 
Turkish  officials  were  hurry- 
ing amongst  the  tribes,  en- 
deavouring to  obtain  help,  and 


while  some  eagerly  gave  their 
services,  the  majority  main- 
tained an  independent  attitude, 
thus  permitting  themselves  to 
fight  against  the  British  and 
the  Turk,  according  to  the 
amount  of  loot  to  be  gained. 
One  day  a  Turkish  officer 
paid  me  a  visit,  and  made 
great  promises  of  land  and 
money  for  the  service  of  my 
tribe  against  the  British. 
When  I  refused — for  I  had 
seen  the  power  of  the  British — 
the  Turkish  officer  went  away 
full  of  angry  threats,  and  re- 
minded me  of  the  death  of 
the  tax-collector. 

Several  days  after  the  de- 
parture of  the  Turkish  officer, 
news  that  the  Turks  were  pre- 
paring a  great  force  against 
me  reached  me  from  my  far- 
away spies.  I  deliberated  long. 
A  sheikh  of  a  tribe  is  a  ruling 
power,  and  if  he  fails  in  his 
wisdom  his  sorrow  is  great, 
for  the  name  of  his  house  is 
murmured  with  a  funeral  chant. 
I  called  the  elders  of  the  tribe 
to  a  midnight  council,  and 
each  in  concord  agreed  that 
preparations  should  be  made 
to  resist  the  Turk.  All  from 
the  unripened  age  to  the  most 
withered  swore  to  Allah  to 
keep  the  enemy  from  the  land. 
Battlements  were  made,  and 
each  tower  was  manned,  while 
sure-witted  men  went  forward 
to  scout,  so  that  no  surprise 
should  overtake  us. 

Three  days  passed,  and  then 
columns  of  dust  rose  in  the 
distance — voiceless  messengers 
that  told  us  of  the  approach 
of  the  foe.  Soon  my  trusted 


676 


Desert  Blades. 


[Nov. 


scouts  brought  news  of  the 
enemy's  strength — 2000  foot 
and  500  horse.  The  news 
spread  around  the  tribe,  and 
the  women,  terror-struck,  ran 
wild,  first  praying  near  the 
Imam,  then  rushing  to  their 
lords  with  fear  in  their  hearts, 
while  the  maidens  trembled 
and  beat  their  bosoms ;  but 
the  men  were  of  better  blood, 
and  with  a  careful  eye  watched 
the  advancing  foe. 

The  scouts  of  the  enemy 
advanced  with  a  flag  of  truce, 
and  then  a  Turkish  officer 
came  forward  and  demanded 
the  body  of  Sheikh  Hussan 
Agha.  His  demand  was  an- 
swered by  the  war-cry  of  the 
Ajib,  and  the  officer  and  the 
scouts  returned  to  their  camp. 
My  scouts  brought  news  of 
the  intentions  of  the  enemy, 
whose  attack  was  to  take  place 
at  sunset.  The  men  of  the 
Ajib  were  impatient.  Each 
man  gathered  to  his  banner 
and  advanced  to  the  encamped 
foe.  Allah  was  great,  and  true 
were  the  shots  and  spears  of  the 
Ajib  ;  for  the  enemy,  wearied 
by  long  marches  and  unpre- 
pared for  his  task,  retreated, 
leaving  many  dead  and  much 
loot. 

Alas !  the  gain  was  but 
loss,  for  when  the  loot  was 
divided  amongst  the  elders, 
each  elder  argued  against  his 
neighbour,  and  tongues  were 
short  and  blades  long.  The 
retreating  Turks  had  now 
halted,  and  were  preparing  for 
another  attack.  But  a  greater 
enemy  was  already  in  the 
camp,  for  two  elders  were  still 


dissatisfied  with  the  distribu- 
tion of  the  loot.  The  other 
elders  had  suffered  greater  losses 
in  the  attack,  and  were  there- 
fore entitled  by  tribal  custom 
to  a  greater  portion ;  but  one 
elder  now  demanded  an  equal 
share.  I  sent  mounted  mes- 
sengers to  the  elder  who  was 
so  dissatisfied,  but  the  call 
was  too  late,  for  the  blade 
had  been  the  quick  weapon 
of  justice,  and  the  elder  lay 
dead,  and  death  had  made 
his  share  equal. 

The  followers  of  the  dead 
elder  were  now  more  eager 
to  fight  the  house  of  the  elder 
who  had  delivered  the  blow 
than  to  fight  the  approaching 
Turks.  The  great  Ajib  had 
never  been  defeated,  but  defeat 
was  now  approaching  with  rapid 
strides,  for  the  reorganised  Turk 
was  advancing,  while  each  elder, 
instead  of  mounting  every  para- 
pet with  men,  was  thinking  of 
the  conflict  of  the  two  houses. 
At  this  moment  Allah  sent  me 
a  vision  and  a  warning.  I  saw 
the  great  Ajib  beaten  by  the 
cruel  foe,  the  towns  of  strength 
crumbled  to  dust,  the  fruits 
of  many  labours  lost  in  one 
barren  wave ;  I  heard  the 
cries  of  maidens  as  they  were 
plucked  from  their  homes  to 
be  taken  to  far-away  dark 
slavery,  and  the  name  of  Hus- 
san Agha  cursed  by  young  and 
old. 

The  scouts  of  the  enemy, 
with  a  multitude  of  men  behind 
them,  had  reached  the  first 
line  of  battlements,  and  had 
halted  to  allow  a  bearer  of  a 
flag  of  truce  to  bargain  with 


1921.] 


Desert  Blades. 


577 


the  defenders.  An  answer  was 
already  waiting,  for  the  vision 
had  been  sent  to  me  as  a  warn- 
ing from  Allah.  Allah  is  great. 
The  Turks  did  not  want  to  fight 
the  tribe,  but  they  wanted  me  ; 
and  unless  I  was  delivered 
they  would  be  obliged  to  fight. 
No  matter  how  they  fought,  I 
could  not  be  delivered  to  them 
if  I  was  not  with  the  tribe,  and 
in  such  a  manner  had  I  argued 
at  a  council  of  elders  which  I 
had  hurriedly  assembled.  It 
was  agreed  that  I  should  flee 
and  thereby  avoid  the  fighting, 
which  now  could  only  end  with 
the  defeat  of  the  Ajib.  I 
mounted  my  pony,  and  tak- 
ing a  few  dried  dates,  a  rifle, 
ammunition,  and  my  dagger,  I 
rode  away  into  the  trackless 
desert,  for  even  great  men 
are  but  the  common  servants 
of  Allah.  Trickery  accom- 
plished what  arms  would  have 
failed  to  do,  for  the  Turks, 
after  learning  of  my  flight, 
pressed  forward  in  another  di- 
rection to  join  forces  which 
were  engaged  with  the  British, 
leaving  behind  them  a  few 
spies  who  were  ordered  to 
shoot  me  on  sight.  Thus  the 
honour  of  the  arms  of  the  Ajib 
was  saved. 

For  many  months  I  wan- 
dered through  the  desert,  mak- 
ing company  and  finding  happi- 
ness with  pilgrims,  until  strange 
news  reached  me.  After  my 
flight  from  Aweid  the  Turks 
had  placed  another  sheikh  to 
rule  in  my  stead.  This  sheikh, 
in  return  for  the  many  bribes 
he  received  from  the  Turks, 
had  promised  the  service  of 


the  Ajib  against  the  British. 
The  hot  season  had  been  so 
terrible  that  the  river  was  all 
but  dry,  and  in  consequence 
there  was  much  famine  in  the 
land.  It  was  to  be  expected 
that  very  little  persuasion 
would  be  needed  to  turn  the 
Ajib  to  war,  for  what  the 
plough  loses  the  sword  must 
gain. 

I  was  determined  to  prevent 
the  tribe  from  making  so  great 
a  mistake,  for  the  pilgrims 
whose  company  I  had  sought 
told  me  stories  of  the  many 
battles  which  the  Turks  had 
lost ;  and  the  Turks  were  my 
enemies,  and  the  enemies  of 
my  people,  over  whom  one 
day,  by  the  will  of  Allah,  I 
should  again  rule.  The  diffi- 
culties which  faced  me  were 
many,  for  the  tribe,  from  whom 
I  was  now  two  days'  journey, 
had  many  loosened  tongues 
against  me.  They  said  I  had 
deserted  them,  and  yet  I  had 
committed  no  crime,  but  by 
fleeing  had  saved  them  from 
themselves.  So  great  was  the 
bribe  that  had  been  prom- 
ised by  the  Turks  for  my 
head,  that  even  those  who  had 
sworn  their  services  to  me 
were  now  ready  to  betray  me. 
Brave  but  corrupted  hearts ! 
The  new  sheikh,  helped  by  a 
bribed  and  unfaithful  servant 
of  Allah,  had  instilled  into  the 
Ajib  hatred  against  me. 

Allah,  who  wills  all  things, 
filled  me  with  strength,  and 
I  rode  with  the  night  to- 
wards Aweid.  The  next  night 
I  was  with  my  people,  although 
unseen  and  unknown  by  them. 


678 


Desert  Blades. 


[Nov. 


I  listened  to  the  plans  of  the 
sheikh  who  was  to  lead  the 
Ajib  against  the  British,  who 
were  only  two  hundred  miles 
away.  At  the  break  of  day 
each  man  of  the  tribe  was  to 
join  the  banner  of  his  sheikh, 
when  he  would  receive  the 
blessing  of  Allah  from  the  un- 
faithful priest,  and  much  money 
would  be  given  to  him.  I 
learnt  that  a  secret  meeting 
of  the  elders  was  timed  for 
midnight.  Lying  near  the 
gathering  I  spied  a  motley 
assembly — the  sheikh  who  had 
considered  the  bribes  and  not 
the  cost,  a  Turkish  officer, 
the  unfaithful  follower  of  the 
Prophet,  and  the  elders.  Deep 
and  lengthy  were  their  schemes, 
but  they  counted  not  on  the 
will  of  Allah  and  the  weapon 
of  Hussan  Agha.  After  two 
hours  the  assembly  broke  up, 
and  each  man  went  to  his  couch, 
and  before  the  light  of  the  night 
had  faded  before  the  light  of  day 
three  sons  of  dogs — the  sheikh, 
the  Turkish  officer,  and  the 
bribed  priest — had  ceased  to 
stir.  True  was  the  weapon 
which  my  father  had  given  to 
me. 

With  the  dawn  each  elder, 
unconscious  of  the  deeds  cov- 
ered by  dark  night,  gathered 
his  men  to  his  standard,  and 
brought  them  to  the  place 
agreed  upon  for  the  promised 
money.  Eager  to  receive  the 
bribes,  they  sought  for  the 
three  unwise  men,  and  found 
them  gone.  The  men  were 
excited,  and  murmured  much 
against  the  elders,  and  at  this 
moment  I  rode  into  their  midst. 


Their  unreined  tongues  were 
at  once  muzzled,  some  by  fear, 
some  by  astonishment,  and 
ere  speech  came  to  them  I 
galloped  away. 

That  night  I  watched  from 
afar  the  flame  signals,  and 
knew  that  in  leaving  them  I 
had  done  a  wise  act,  for  famine 
drives  men  mad,  and  blood 
is  a  food  when  men  are  mad. 
By  secret  means  I  communi- 
cated with  the  elders,  and 
proved  to  them  their  folly  in 
listening  to  counsel  which  urged 
them  to  fight  the  British.  I 
promised  to  return  to  them 
some  day  with  untold  riches. 

Many  days  passed  before  I 
reached  the  British  force,  for 
I  encountered  many  roving 
tribes  who  interrupted  my 
journey,  and  I  was  obliged  to 
pass  through  the  Turkish  lines. 
The  British  Hakim  was  some- 
times very  doubtful  of  me, 
but  always  kind,  and  when  he 
proved  that  the  information 
which  I  had  given  to  him  was 
correct  he  gave  me  much  money 
and  asked  for  my  service. 
Service  I  gladly  gave  him,  for 
I  knew  the  power  of  the  British, 
and  the  Turks  were  my  sworn 
enemies.  On  many  occasions 
I  was  saved  by  the  weapon 
which  my  father  had  given 
to  me. 

The  Turks  were  being  beaten, 
and  many  of  the  tribes  who 
had  helped  them  had  now 
turned  to  the  side  of  the 
victorious  British.  The  Turks, 
wherever  they  could,  ravished 
the  land  through  which  they 
retreated.  I  learnt  that  a 
force  of  Turks  intended  to 


1921.] 


Desert  Blades. 


579 


retreat  through  the  Ajib,  and  was  the  rejoicing,  for  my  riches 

I  warned  the  elders,  and  great  were  many,  and  were  multiplied 

was    the   loot    taken   as   they  by  the  loot  which  had  been 

passed    through.      When    the  captured  from  the  Turk,   the 

British   occupied   Eumaitha   I  result  of  my  warning.     Peace 

returned  to  the  Ajib,  and  great  now  reigned  in  the  tribe. 


m. 


Two  years  later  many  Turk- 
ish and  other  spies  returned  to 
the  tribes,  and  although  none 
of  these  spies  visited  my  tribe, 
several  schemes  were  made  to 
raise  the  Ajib  against  the 
British.  The  British  Hakim 
was  always  ready  to  listen  to 
all,  and  bribery  was  no  longer 
necessary,  but  those  who  had 
gained  much  from  the  Turks 
by  these  means  were  dissatis- 
fied with  the  British.  Their 
ignorance  —  many  had  not 
left  their  ruling  seats  except 
for  a  short  pilgrimage — made 
them  eager  listeners  to  the 
promises  of  the  spies.  What 
the  Turks  obtained  by  bribery, 
which  caused  unfairness  to 
many,  the  British  achieved  by 
command ;  many  sheikhs  in 
ignorance  deemed  the  com- 
mands of  the  British  Hakim 
insults,  and  Arabs  are  swift 
to  revenge  an  insult.  Poor 
crops  made  the  stories  and 
promises  of  the  spies  more 
fascinating,  and  many  little 
schemes  were  formed  into  a 
great  conspiracy  by  the  priests, 
who  undoubtedly  were  bribed. 
Allah  is  great,  and  gave  me 
good  counsel,  and  I  was  deter- 
mined not  to  share  the  folly 
of  the  sheikhs. 

The  surrounding  tribes  grew 


suspicious  of  me,  and  in  con- 
sequence little  did  I  know  of 
the  conspiracy  until  the  escape 
from  prison  of  Sheikh  A'alan 
of  the  Dhuwalim  tribe.  He 
made  a  clever  understanding 
with  Sheikh  H.  D.,  for  when 
the  British  Hakim  sent  for 
both  of  them,  only  Sheikh 
A'alan  reported,  and  was  placed 
in  prison.  Sheikh  H.  D.  then 
sent  his  brother,  who  had  dis- 
guised his  attitude  so  well 
that  the  British  Hakim  con- 
sidered him  a  good  man,  to 
see  Sheikh  A'alan  in  prison. 
This  brother  soon  obtained 
permission  to  speak  with  the 
prisoner.  Three  shabanas 
guarded  the  prison,  and  were 
obliged  to  hear  the  conversa- 
tion. "  I  have  sixty  rupees 
for  you,"  commenced  the 
would-be  rescuer.  "  Have  you 
them  all  with  you  ?  "  asked  the 
prisoner.  "  I  have  only  six 
with  me,  and  I  will  give  you 
the  remainder  when  you  arrive 
at  the  station,  for  I  under- 
stand that  you  are  going  to 
be  sent  to  Baghdad,"  replied 
the  would-be  rescuer.  "  De- 
liver the  six  now,"  said  the 
prisoner,  and  at  that  moment 
six  shots  were  fired,  and  the 
three  keepers  of  the  prison 
lay  dead.  Sheikh  A'alan  gal- 


580 


Desert  Blades. 


[Nov. 


loped  away  with  his  rescuer 
to  the  station,  where  fifty- 
four  armed  men  awaited  his 
arrival. 

Sheikh  A'alan  returned  with 
his  men  to  the  Dhuwalim,  and 
the  tribe  commenced  the  de- 
struction of  the  railway.  The 
signal  for  war  was  given,  and 
galloping  messengers  went  from 
tribe  to  tribe,  while  a  voice 
cried  from  every  Imam,  where 
banners  of  war  were  unfurled. 
Two  sections  of  the  Ajib  joined 
the  conspiracy,  but  my  tribe 
had  reason  to  remember  that 
my  commands  were  law,  for 
the  dagger  is  sharper  than 
men's  tongues  ;  and  while  they 
argued  against  my  law  no  man 
dared  to  break  it.  It  was, 
however,  a  great  trial  to  keep 
the  men  under  the  control  of 
my  will,  for  the  spies  had 
much  money  with  which  to 
bribe,  and  many  of  the  priests 
were  sodden  in  corruption, while 
the  rebellious  tribesmen  had 
been  able  to  collect  much  loot, 
and  an  Arab  thinks  much  of 
loot. 

After  I  had  smuggled  you  to 
Samawah  the  anger  of  the 
neighbouring  tribes  rose  to  a 
high  point,  and  they  laid  many 
schemes  for  my  death.  So 
great  was  their  anger  and  dis- 
appointment, that  one  night 
4000  of  their  number  sur- 
rounded my  tribe,  and  de- 
manded that  I  should  be  handed 
over  to  them ;  but  their  secret 
had  not  been  well  guarded,  for 
with  knowledge  of  their  in- 
tentions I  fled  to  the  desert. 
The  desert  is  a  large  resting- 
place,  and  full  of  mystery ; 


but  the  Arab,  unlike  the  Turk, 
knows  its  secrets,  and  fears 
not  its  mystery.  I  was  soon 
discovered,  made  a  prisoner, 
and  taken  to  the  tribes  which 
now  surrounded  Samawah  gar- 
rison. There  on  the  morning 
of  my  arrival  a  spy  from  the 
Samawah  garrison  had  been 
captured,  and  was  dangling 
from  a  palm-tree. 

I  was  hurried  before  Sheikh 
X.,  who  had  assumed  com- 
mand of  the  tribesmen  who 
were  operating  against  the 
small  garrison.  The  rope  was 
taken  from  the  dead  body  of 
the  spy,  and  the  palm-tree  was 
prepared  for  another  burden. 
When  steel  is  blunt  wits  must 
be  sharpened.  My  experience 
with  the  British  force  had 
taught  me  many  things,  and 
the  rope  was  not  used.  Al- 
though I  was  kept  a  well- 
guarded  prisoner,  I  heard  and 
saw  much.  The  rebels  num- 
bered many  thousands  ;  much 
loot  had  been  collected,  and 
the  foreign  officers  and  spies 
were  by  no  means  a  small 
number.  The  many  attempts 
made  by  the  tribesmen  to 
rush  the  small  garrison  hav- 
ing failed  with  great  losses, 
it  was  decided  to  starve  the 
garrison  to  surrender.  The 
aeroplane  bombing  caused  much 
panic.  During  one  of  these 
bombardments  I  made  my 
escape. 

My  rifle  had  been  taken  from 
me,  but  my  dagger  still  re- 
mained concealed  under  my 
abba,  and  this  weapon  served 
me  well  during  my  escape. 
When  the  British  relief  column 


1921.] 


Desert  Blades. 


681 


liberated  the  gallant  garrison 
of  Samawah  I  made  several 
attempts  to  reach  Samawah, 
for  the  officers  of  the  garrison 
had  once  received  me  with 
much  kindness  ;  but  many  diffi- 
culties delayed  me,  and  when 
I  did  reach  Samawah  the  gal- 
lant men  were  gone.  The 
tribes  submitted  to  the  British 
general  shortly  afterwards,  but 
the  spies  and  foreign  officers 
had  long  since  vanished. 

I  returned  to  the  Ajib,  and 
great  and  numerous  were  the 
rejoicings,  but  during  my  ab- 
sence the  tribe  had  lost  much. 
Ah !  the  British  Hakim  is 
great,  but  he  understands  not 
the  people  of  the  desert,  for 
the  sheikhs  who  committed 
great  crimes  are  free,  and  who 
knows  what  greater  crimes  are 
now  being  prepared  by  them  ! 
Here  Sheikh  Hussan  Agha 
smiled  a  knowing  smile,  and 
sinking  his  voice  into  an  al- 
most inaudible  whisper,  said, 
"  The  cities  re-echo  with  talk, 
but  the  desert  has  no  wall." 

"  The  Arabs,"  continued 
Hussan  Agha,  "  have  a  greater 
enemy  than  the  British."  I 


pressed  Sheikh  Hussan  Agha 
for  a  meaning,  but  I  was 
obliged  to  be  content  with  my 
own  thoughts. 

Sheikh  Hussan  Agha  rode 
with  me  to  the  station,  and 
there  begged  me  to  allow  him 
to  journey  with  me  as  far  as 
Samawah.  To  his  request  I 
gladly  gave  consent.  The  jour- 
ney to  Samawah  occupied  only 
one  hour,  but  during  that  time 
Sheikh  Hussan  Agha  talked 
much,  and  I  listened  to  the 
wisdom  of  a  brave  wandering 
warrior.  Of  the  future  he  had 
much  to  say,  and  I  thought 
how  those  who  sit  in  the  pomp 
of  state  would  marvel  at  his 
reasoning.  After  obtaining  a 
promise  from  me  that  I  would 
some  day  again  visit  him,  the 
great  man  embraced  me,  and 
then  turned  towards  the  desert 
murmuring,  "  Allah  is  great," 
while  a  tear  from  his  eye 
wetted  the  sand.  I  watched 
the  desert  gradually  wrap  him 
in  its  cloak  of  space,  and  then 
the  robed  figure  vanished, — 
the  desert  had  claimed  its 
own. 


582 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


HEATHEE   MIXTTJKE. 


BY  KLAXON. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  day's  programme  being 
rather  behind  schedule  time, 
the  host  unbent  to  the  extent 
of  hustling  the  party  through 
lunch.  He  succeeded  up  to 
a  point — that  is,  he  induced 
everybody  to  stow  away  a 
large  quantity  of  food  in  a 
short  time, — but  as  a  result 
of  being  filled  to  his  utmost 
capacity  Playton  insisted  on 
a  leisurely  completion  of  the 
meal  for  the  sake  of  his  diges- 
tion. Dicky  was  impatient 
to  go  on,  but  finding  that 
others  were  not  so  anxious  to 
move,  he  took  another  whisky- 
and-soda  (deliberately  mixing 
a  strong  one  in  the  hope  of 
gaining  a  certain  abandon  which 
seemed  to  have  been  lacking 
in  his  shooting  during  the  fore- 
noon), and  sat  smoking  and 
listening  to  Playton's  argu- 
ments on  the  subject  of  the 
dangers  of  exercise  after  meals. 
Hansard's  shooting  days  were 
marked  by  a  heavy  lunch. 
His  daughters,  who  made 
the  arrangements  for  it,  hoped 
that  it  would  be  consumed 
with  care  and  leisure,  and 
that  bright  flow  of  con- 
versation that  should  accom- 
pany such  gustatory  enjoy- 
ments, but  they  were  always 
disappointed  in  finding  that 


the  programme  only  permitted 
of  rapid  and  silent  consump- 
tion by  the  hustled  guns.  Grad- 
ually Playton  was  induced  to 
consent  to  moving,  and  the 
second  appearance  of  the 
gloomy  keeper  in  the  doorway 
decided  him  to  rise.  The 
whole  company  trooped  out, 
and  began  collecting  their 
guns  from  the  row  that 
leaned  in  the  rack  against 
the  wall.  On  the  strip  of 
grass  beside  the  hut  lay  the 
bag.  A  hundred  and  five 
brace  of  well  -  grown  birds : 
Dicky  walked  along  the  row 
of  slain  and  looked  them  over. 
He  was  puzzled  at  the  fact 
that  a  grouse  looks  black- 
and-white  when  flying,  yet  is 
quite  brown  -  and  -  grey  when 
picked  up.  Other  people  have 
puzzled  over  that,  but  nobody 
has  quite  explained  it  yet. 
A  whistle  called  the  flankers, 
and  (the  drivers  having  already 
gone  on)  the  guns  tramped 
off  over  level  ground  towards 
the  line  of  butts  a  thousand 
yards  away. 

Dicky  found  himself  walk- 
ing in  advance  with  Thwaite. 
A  rustle  behind  him  made  him 
turn  his  head.  Thwaite  turned 
also,  and  then  tactfully  dropped 
behind  to  wait  for  the  others 


Copyrighted  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


583 


as  Dicky  and  Elsie  went  on 
together.  Dicky  was  a  little 
disinclined  for  feminine  society 
at  the  moment.  His  soul  was 
athirst  for  grouse  and  more 
grouse,  quantities  of  birds  at 
all  angles  and  heights,  so  that 
he  could  "  get  the  length  "  of 
them  in  a  burst  of  rapid  shoot- 
ing. Elsie  walked  beside  him 
in  silence  for  a  hundred  yards, 
stepping  out  easily  along  the 
rough  path.  Then — 

"  You  aren't  pleased  with 
your  shooting  this  morning,  I 
hear  f  " 

"  No — it  was  rotten.  I  got 
better  just  before  lunch,  but 
I've  been  missing  badly." 

"Bad  luck;  but  you'll  be 
all  right  now.  D'you  mind 
having  me  in  your  butt  for  a 
drive  or  two  ?  I  might  be  a 
mascot,  you  know.  Say  if  you 
don't  want  me." 

"No.  That's  aU  right.  Glad 
to  have  you.  You  won't 
see  much  good  shooting, 
though." 

"Oh— I  expect  I  will.  I'll 
put  you  on  your  mettle,  any- 
how." 

Dicky  strode  along  without 
speaking  for  a  minute ;  then 
he  shifted  his  gun  from  his 
left  shoulder  to  his  right,  took 
half  a  dozen  more  steps,  and 
shifted  it  back  again. 

"  Did  I  put  my  foot  in  it 
last  night  or  anything  1  I 
thought  you — er " 

"  Oh  dear,  no  !  not  a  bit. 
You're  a  rather  sensitive  per- 
son, aren't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

"I  do.  And  I  think  you're 
worried  to  death  at  this  mo- 


ment because  you  haven't  been 
shooting  well,  and  you  hate 
being  seen  to  do  anything 
badly." 

"  Not  anything.  Only  things 
like  shooting  and  riding  and 
handling  destroyers  and 
things." 

"  I  see.  You  wouldn't  mind 
being  seen  to  dance  badly  ?  " 

"  No— I  don't  care." 

"  Then  it's  only  men's  amuse- 
ments you  want  to  be  good  at  1 
Or  is  it  only  audiences  of 
men  that  put  you  on  your 
mettle  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  that's  it." 

"  Then  if  you  shoot  well  this 
drive,  and  both  Mr  Chap- 
man and  I  congratulate  you, 
which  of  us  will  make  you 
pleased  ?  " 

"  Well  —  yes  —  Chapman,  I 
suppose." 

"  Thank  you.  I  expected 
that." 

"  Have  I  said  the  wrong 
thing  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  You're  a  re- 
freshing person  to  meet — queer, 
in  fact  .  .  ." 

"  I  have  said  the  wrong 
thing.  What  was  it  ?  Why 
am  I  queer  ?  " 

"  Here  are  the  butts.  Yours 
is  that  low  one,  isn't  it  ?  Why 
are  you  queer  ?  Well,  I  sup- 
pose it's  because  you  speak  the 
truth  to  women,  and  they're 
not  used  to  it,  that's  all.  Now 
you  can  wait  here  while  I  go 
back  to  talk  to  Phyllis.  She's 
behind  with  Mr  Playton,  and 
he'll  make  her  stay  in  his  butt 
if  I  don't  rescue  her."  She 
turned  back  along  the  path, 
and  Dicky  entered  the  butt, 


584 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


and  in  his  preparations  for 
business  instantly  forgot  all 
about  her. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  saw  her 
coming  back.  Leaning  against 
the  peat  wall,  he  watched  her 
approach,  and  noted  the  per- 
fect fit  of  her  brown  tweeds, 
her  close-fitting  cap,  and  her 
general  air  of  having  just  walked 
out  of  a  Bond  Street  tailor's. 
Her  short  knee-skirt  showed 
Dicky  that  she  was  wearing 
brown  silk  stockings  and  the 
thinnest  of  soft  leather  spats. 
He  permitted  himself  to  won- 
der whether  she  would  have 
still  clothed  her  calves  in  that 
way  had  she  had  gorse  to 
negotiate  instead  of  heather. 
As  she  came  closer  he  opened 
the  butt  door  for  her,  and  stood 
aside  to  let  her  pass  in.  She 
sat  down  on  the  plank  seat, 
crossed  her  legs,  and  spread  her 
arms  out  against  the  wall. 

"  Oof  !  it's  rough  walking, 
and  my  shoes  are  so  wet.  Can 
I  have  a  cigarette  t  Thanks  ; 
that's  better." 

Dicky  laid  his  gun  on  the 
top  of  the  wall  and  looked  out 
in  the  direction  of  the  drive. 
He  could  see  over  a  mile  of 
moor,  and  along  a  wall  on  his 
horizon  he  could  see  a  black 
smudge  moving — the  group  of 
drivers  moving  out  into  line 
to  begin  their  advance.  Ten 
minutes  to  wait  yet — he  looked 
down  at  the  girl  by  his  side. 
"  And  what  are  you  thinking 
of  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  up  at 
his  face. 

He  paused  a  moment  before 
replying.  "I'm  not  sure — 
partly  of  shooting,  I  think ; 


and  then  I  was  thinking  the 
Almighty  made  you  very  well." 

"I  know  that.  But  He  made 
you  well  too.  Is  it  so  very 
important  ?  " 

"For  me?  Well— I  want 
health  and  strength  only. 
You've  got  looks,  and  you 
wouldn't  know  how  important 
they  are  until  you've  lost 
them." 

"  Don't  make  me  shiver ! 
D'you  think  good  looks  mean 
happiness  for  a  girl  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Are  you 
happy  ?  " 

"  No — I  don't  think  I  ever 
am.  I'm  usually  bored,  you 
see." 

Dicky  did  not  answer.  He 
was  again  searching  the  moor 
before  him  with  brows  drawn 
down  over  his  deep-set  brown 
eyes.  As  he  finished  his  scout- 
ing and  looked  down,  the  girl 
spoke  again.  "  What  is  your 
ideal  for  a  happy  life,  then  ?  " 

"  A  fast  ship,  an  occasional 
war,  eleven  hunters,  and  a 
grouse  moor."  Dicky's  answer 
came  with  no  hesitation. 

"That's  a  man's  life.  Do 
you  have  no  idea  of  women  in 
it?" 

"  Yes,  of  a  sort." 

"  Must  she  live  the  same  life 
as  you  and  do  the  same  things  ? 
Wouldn't  she  be  rather  a  man- 
nish type  to  be  able  to  do  it 
all !  " 

"No.  She'd  do  what  she 
liked.  But  she'd  understand 
what  I  liked,  and  she'd  be — 
well " 

"  Yes,  go  on." 

"  Here  they  come,  half  a 
mile  off,  and  coming  high." 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


585 


He  opened  and  closed  his  gun 
to  make  sure  that  it  was  loaded, 
and  crouched  a  little  against 
the  front  of  the  butt.  Elsie 
moved  closer  back  against  the 
wall.  "  Go  on — tell  me,"  she 
said.  "  You've  got  time." 

"Who?  Oh  yes.  I  mean, 
she'd  be  genuine  right  through 
— like  these  gun-barrels — clean 
stuff — here  they  are  !  Ten — 
twenty  —  thirty  —  In  manus 
tuas,  Domine  " — bang — bang. 

The  stream  of  birds  took  two 
or  three  minutes  to  pass  over. 
Dicky  loaded  and  fired  in  swift 
cool  haste,  taking  all  his  shots 
in  front  and  crooning  a  hymn 
(or  rather  a  perverted  maritime 
version  of  a  hymn)  in  a  raucous 
and  distrait  manner.  Elsie 
crouched  beside  and  a  little 
behind  him  ;  a  succession  of 
ejected  cartridge-cases  struck 
either  her  or  the  walls  around. 
Bang — bang — "Holy,  holy,  holy, 
all  the  saints  adore  Thee  " — 
bang  —  "  damn  !  "  —  bang — 
"  Sorry,  mind  your  feet.  .  .  . 
All  the  hands  are  wait-w#  to 
wash  "  —  bang  —  bang  —  "  their 
dirty  clothes.  Tanky,  Tanky, 
Tanky,  serve  out  washing 
wat-er  " — bang — "  ah  !  Where 
the  waters  com-ing  from  " — 
bang — bang — "  Gawd  A'mighty 
knows  " — bang.  Elsie,  if  she 
had  ever  had  any  fears  on  the 
subject,  need  not  have  been 
concerned  as  to  the  possible 
interference  her  presence  in  the 
butt  would  make  to  Dicky's 
shooting.  He  fired  with  the 
quick  fling  of  a  practised  ex- 
pert ;  he  sang,  or  rather  hummed 
with  the  restrained  nonchalance 
of  a  distant  Zeppelin,  and  he 


paid  no  more  attention  to  his 
companion  than  if  she  had  been 
a  footstool.  The  pack  thinned 
to  broods,  the  broods  to  single 
birds,  and  then  Dicky  was 
resting  a  warm  gun  on  his  hip 
and  looking  round  with  the 
air  of  the  victor  of  Tannen- 
berg.  "  My  word  !  that  was 
the  stuff,  wasn't  it  ?  Eighteen 
down  and  no  runners — better 
than  Zeebrugge,  eh  ?  " 

Elsie  climbed  cautiously  to 
her  seat  again  and  straightened 
her  cap  and  hair.  Then  she 
slid  a  hand  down  her  skirt  and 
tenderly  stroked  her  right  tibia 
on  the  spot  where  an  iron- 
studded  boot  had  left  its  mark 
on  her  stocking.  "  Ooh  !  "  she 
said,  "  ooh !  you  did  hurt." 
She  raised  her  dainty  head,  and 
looked  plaintively  up  to  him 
for  sympathy.  Bang — bang — 
"  Holy,  holy,  holy,  all  the 
saints  adore  Thee  " — bang.  .  .  . 

The  plaintive  look  left,  and 
if  Dicky  had  not  been  other- 
wise occupied  at  the  moment 
he  might  have  seen  it  replaced 
by  the  piqued  expression  of 
the  Medusa  just  before  de- 
capitation. The  drive  ended 
in  a  flurry  of  shots  all  along 
the  line,  and  Elsie  rose  stiffly 
to  her  feet  with  a  brave  smile. 
She  limped  the  few  steps  across 
the  butt,  and  looked  out  to- 
wards the  drivers ;  few  one- 
legged  heroes  of  the  war  have 
limped  more  obviously.  Her 
hands  resting  on  the  damp  peat, 
she  waited  for  a  question. 

"  Did  you  see  where  those 
two  high  ones  fell  ? — out  be- 
hind, I  mean.  Weren't  you 
looking  •?  Oh  !  I  thought  you'd 


586 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


been  marking  'em.  All  right, 
I'll  find  'em."  He  swung  out 
of  the  butt  and  with  two  drivers 
in  attendance  began  a  circular 
tour,  picking  up  birds  all  the 
way.  Elsie  watched  him  for 
two  minutes,  then  sighed,  lifted 
her  skirt,  brushed  her  stocking 
clean,  and  passed  out  of  the 
butt  and  away.  Dicky  looked 
up  from  his  search  as  she 
walked  briskly  past  him  to- 
wards the  next  butt,  and  con- 
tinued his  conversation.  "Yes," 
he  said  to  the  keeper,  "  there 
are  two  close  together  here, 
and  one  by  that  tussock  of 


For  the  remainder  of  the 
day's  shooting  Dicky's  com- 
pany was  exclusively  male. 
Birds  were  plentiful  over  and 
past  his  butts,  and  his  shooting 
improved  steadily.  He  noticed 
that  Elsie  was  sharing  the  butt 
of  each  gun  in  succession. 
He  supposed  this  was  her 
original  programme,  and  re- 
flected that  it  was  very  polite 
of  her.  The  idea  that  she  was 
avoiding  his  society  never  en- 
tered his  head.  At  the  end  of 
the  last  drive  the  guns  gathered 
together  on  the  road,  and  sorted 
themselves  out  for  the  two-mile 
walk  home.  Captain  Thwaite 
and  the  two  girls  started  off 
at  once  at  a  brisk  pace, 
and  Dicky  and  Chapman  fol- 
lowed. The  road  led  downhill 
towards  the  sunset  and  home. 
On  each  side  lay  miles  of 
heather,  and  the  call  of  curlew 
disturbed  by  the  last  drive 
accompanied  the  sound  of 
tramping  feet  as  guns  and 
drivers  plodded  along.  Chap- 


man looked  at  Dicky  sidelong 
for  a  while,  and  then — 

"  Nice  girls  those  two.  You 
had  one  in  your  butt,  didn't 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  one  drive.  She 
wasn't  in  the  way,  though." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't  find  her 
in  the  way.  She  came  to  me 
for  a  bit,  too." 

Dicky  looked  up  sharply. 
He  had  met  that  tone  of  voice 
before.  It  is  common  to  the 
Navy,  where  men  have  reduced 
the  art  of  "  drawing "  to  a 
science.  "  What's  the  joke  ?  " 
he  said.  "  I'll  buy  it." 

"Oh,  nothing  !  "  Chapman 
laughed.  "  I  wondered  if  you 
were  a  confirmed  bachelor  like 
me  or  not." 

"  I  think  I  am.  I  hate  the 
modern  girl.  But  those  two 
seem  quite  decent.  Not  that 
I'm  in  a  state  of  collapse  about 
them,  I  mean,  but " 

"  I  know — you  just  like  'em. 
The  young  one — Elsie,  now  ; 
you  wouldn't  call  her  modern, 
would  you  1  " 

"  Well,  I— no,  I  don't  think 
so.  She's  better  than  the 
regular  London  type,  though." 

"I  see  "  (Dicky  looked  up 
suspiciously  again) .  "  Well,  you 
won't  meet  any  girls  at  my 
place  when  you  come.  I'm 
going  to  tell  Hansard  you're 
driving  back  with  me  to-morrow 
after  shooting.  I  think  he'll 
let  you  go  all  right,  and  then 
you  can  have  time  to  settle  in 
before  you  meet  my  party." 

"Well,  it's  awfully  kind  of 
you,  and  you  know  I  want  to 
come.  Are  you  sure  Hansard 
won't  mind  ?  " 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


587 


"  Quite  sure.  He'll  get  the 
news  to-night  —  they'll  report 
progress.  ..." 

"  What  news  f  " 

"  You've  probably  never  met 
a  syndicate  grouse-shoot,  have 
you  ?  "  (Chapman  seemed  to 
evade  questions  in  quite  a 
feminine  way.)  "  I  think  you'll 
be  amused.  That's  what  mine 
is.  I'm  captain  of  it,  because 
I  live  beside  it,  and  there  are 
seven  other  guns.  I  don't 
know  how  you'll  get  on  with 
'em,  but  I  think  you  can  keep 
your  end  up.  They  may  puzzle 
you  at  first." 

"  But  how  do  I  come  in  ? 
They  can't  all  have  guests,  can 
they  t  " 

"  You're  my  guest.  And 
that  means  you're  the  guest  of 
the  shoot.  We  draw  for  turns 
in  asking  guests.  Another  man 
drew  the  guest-ticket  this  time 
and  I  was  second,  which  meant 
I  could  put  a  guest  in  if  a 
vacancy  occurred.  One  of  the 
guns  has  postponed  coming  be- 
cause he  caught  a  chill,  so  there 
you  are " 

"  Well,  it's  very  good  of  you 
and  lucky  for  me.  I'm  grate- 
ful for  his  chill,  anyhow." 

"  Aye,  an'  so's  he,  I  expect. 
From  what  I  know  of  him  he'd  be 
fair  draff  en  when  he  caught  it." 

"  Fair  what  !  " 

"  Draff  en  —  fresh  —  drunk. 
When  I'm  not  being  respectable, 
as  I  am  when  I'm  here,  I  talk 
the  local  language.  You'll  hear 
little  else  at  my  place — Moor- 
dyke.  They're  all  Yorkshire 
men." 

"  Do  you  put  them  all  up 
for  shooting  ?  " 


"  Aye — I'm  there,  and  it's 
convenient.  If  they  don't  like 
it,  or  if  I  don't  like  them,  they 
can  go  to  t'  pub." 

"  Do  you  ever  turn  them  out 
to  the  pub  ?  " 

"  I  turned  one  out  once. 
He  had  part  whisky  and  was 
noisy." 

"  Didn't  he  mind  —  after- 
wards." 

"  Why  should  he  ?  He  came 
back  in  a  day  or  two,  and  he's 
a  right  sort  of  chap.  But  I 
didn't  like  him  bringing  J  a 
lass  into  my  place,  an'  he 
druffen.  I  draw  the  line,  you 
see." 

"  I  see.  Well,  I'll  try  not  to 
misbehave." 

"  Ah — you're  a  guest.  You 

can  bring  any Dammit, 

you're  pulling  my  leg,  sailor. 
All  right,  you'll  find  your  level 
at  Moordyke.  They'll  pull 
yours  if  you  give  'em  a  chance. 
But  you'll  get  some  shooting, 
and  you'll  meet  some  new 
types.  You  were  plating  'em 
this  afternoon  all  right.  That's 
a  nice  gun  of  yours,  and  it 
kills  clean.  Thank  God !  here's 
the  house.  My  boots  are  not 
as  easy  as  I'd  like  'em.  Come 
on,  let's  get  upstairs  quick  and 
dig -in  in  the  bathrooms.  I 
want  to  get  my  things  off." 

Dicky  took  his  gun  and  case 
to  his  room  with  him.  He  had 
not  the  courage  to  explain  to 
the  gloomy  keeper  that  he 
liked  to  do  his  own  gun- 
cleaning,  and  the  removal  of 
the  weapon  from  the  man's 
reach  was  a  simple,  though 
pusillanimous,  way  out  of  the 
difficulty.  He  shed  his  clothes, 


588 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


kicking  them  in  a  tumbled 
wet  heap  into  a  corner,  bathed 
in  luxury,  cleaned  his  gun, 
washed  again  to  remove  the 
resultant  taint  of  Eangoon  oil 
from  his  person,  and  dressed 
with  a  feeling  of  gentle  content- 
ment. He  found  Chapman  and 
Thwaite  already  in  the  smoking- 
room,  and  joined  them  in  a 
whisky-and-soda.  They  were 
discussing  the  country  round 
the  moor,  and  the  north  of 
Yorkshire  generally.  Dicky, 
in  his  ignorance,  could  only 
listen. 

"  Of  course  they're  Scandi- 
navian," said  Thwaite.  "  I 
am — and  you  are  too.  Where 
do  you  come  from,  Fancett  ?  " 

"  Scotland — Lowlands.  I'd 
be  Frisian  or  Norwegian,  I 
expect.  But  who's  Scandi- 
navian here  f  " 

"  Why,  all  the  district.  Have 
you  seen  Hubberholme  Church  ? 
No,  of  course  you  haven't. 
Well,  it's  Saxon,  and  must  be 
about  1000  A.D.  It's  got  the 
rood-screen  still  in  place,  and 
the  wood  is  painted  like  the 
carts  in  Norway  are.  Why,  the 
name's  Danish  even." 

"  I  should  think  you're  right. 
But  who  says  you're  not  Scan- 
dinavian f  " 

"  This  heathen  here.  He 
says  we're  German — Saxon,  at 
least." 

"  Well,  that's  much  the  same 
thing,  isn't  it  !  " 

"  Lord,  no.  They're  Frisi- 
ans over  by  Scarborough  and 
Whitby,  but  we're  Danes  in 
here.  I'm  sure  of  it." 

"  Well,  my  history's  a  bit 
rocky,  but  the  Danes  were 


just  about  all  over  England 
one  time,  weren't  they  I  They 
went  to  Chester,  anyway." 

"  History's  no  use.  There 
isn't  any  for  this  district.  But 
Chapman'll  tell  you  the  popula- 
tion hasn't  changed  since  be- 
fore the  Conquest.  He's  got 
the  local  knowledge,  but  I 
think  he  draws  wrong  con- 
clusions." 

Chapman  took  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth. 

"  There's  no  argument, 
really,"  he  said.  "  Thwaite 
wants  to  pin  me  down 
to  saying  we're  all  from  one 
part  of  Europe.  I  think 
we  mostly  came  from  Norway 
and  Denmark,  but  I  think 
there's  a  lot  of  Norman  blood 
as  well.  But  as  that's  much 
the  same  thing  as  Scandi- 
navian, I  don't  see  that  it 
matters.  All  I  know  is  that 
the  old  Northumbrian  language 
was  the  chief  language  in  Eng- 
land up  to  the  Conquest,  and 
that  the  Midland  English  re- 
placed it  as  the  common  tongue. 
And  I  know  that  the  language 
here  hasn't  altered  much  since 
Shakespeare's  day.  The  Danes 
and  Frisians  and  Normans  came 
across  here,  but  they  all  found 
a  part-Eoman  population.  The 
country's  full  of  Eoman  stuff, 
like  roads  and  camps.  I  say 
that  you  can't  say  that  this 
country's  anything  in  particu- 
lar now,  because  it's  a  mixture 
of  all  sorts.  It's  too  compli- 
cated to  work  out.  For  one 
thing,  how  could  the  Danes 
have  bred  a  new  population 
out  of  what  they  found  here  ! 
A  man,  as  a  rule,  only  marries 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


in  his  own  dale  here,  Wharf- 
dale  to  Wharfdale,  and  Wens- 
leydale  to  Wensleydale — the 
country  folk,  that  is  ;  the  town 
folk  marry  anywhere.  What 
I  think  is  that  the  people  take 
on  the  looks  of  the  country 
they're  bred  in — like  rabbits 
in  the  Arctic.  Look,  now : 
we've  l^got  I",  potters — rutlers — 
gipsies  you'd  call  'em — in  this 
country — lots  of  'em.  Good 
men,  too.  Now  they're  a 
clan.  They  cling  together  like 
Jews,  and  they  don't  marry 
outside  the  gipsy  race.  Well, 
they  ought  to  be  like  gipsies, 
then — black  an'  Moorish  look- 
ing— but  they  aren't.  They're 
just  like  everybody  else — some 
tall  and  fair-haired,  and  some 
little  and  dark.  I  think  people 
are  just  a  mixture  of  all  sorts, 
and  they  grow  like  the  country 
they  live  in.  You  can  tell  a 
dalesman  by  his  legs  anywhere, 
if  you  see  his  calves,  and  you 
can't  mistake  a  pit-lad.  Why, 
you  take  a  lad  from  here  and  put 
him  in  a  colliery  for  five  years, 
and  you'd  say  he  was  a  bandy- 
legged Celt  when  you  saw  him 
again.  As  for  this  part  being 
Danish — look  at  the  language  ! 
A  mixture  of  old  Northumbrian 
and  Scotch — no  Danish  about 
it.  I  bet  Caedmon  of  Whitby, 
if  he  came  out  of  his  seventh- 
century  grave,  could  make  him- 
self clear  if  he  wanted  a  right 
sharp  bottle  of  ale  in  t'  pub 
here  now.  Anyhow,  neither 
you  or  I  know  much  about  it, 
so  we  can't  lay  down  the  law. 
We'll  make  Fancett  here  think 
we  know  all  about  it,  and  we 
don't." 


"  But  hold  on  a  minute,"  said 
Dicky.  "Why Scotch?  We're 
a  long  way  from  Scotland 
here." 

"  We  are  now,  but  the  old 
frontier  was  only  a  few  miles 
from  here  once — five  miles  off, 
say.  And  this  country  has 
traded  with  Scotland  as  far 
back  as  history  goes.  There 
are  farms  here  now  that  sell 
the  same  local-bred  sheep  to 
the  same  farms  in  Scotland 
that  have  done  the  same  trade 
every  year  for  hundreds  of 
years.  There's  nothing  changes 
as  little  as  sheep-dealing.  The 
pack  -  trails  and  drover  -  trails 
over  the  moors  up  to  Carlisle 
and  the  North  are  older  than 
any  of  your  Pilgrims'  ways  and 
early  roads  down  South.  Why 
didn't  Kipling  come  and  live 
here  ?  He  stuck  to  the  South 
and  wrote  about  Sussex.  He'd 
have  had  more  to  write  of  here, 
and  this  country's  the  old 
England — not  civilised  places 
like  Sussex." 

"  Sick  'em,  lad  !  Speak  to 
'em,  then."  (Thwaite  was 
chuckling  with  amusement.) 

"  Yes,  you  devil — you've  got 
no  patriotism,  and  you  laugh 
at  mine.  I  believe  you're  a 
renegade.  Come  on,  we'll  have 
to  move.  I  hear  skirts  going 
past  to  the  drawing-room.  If 
you  want  to  know  more  of 
Yorkshire,  you'll  have  to  ask 
about  it  at  Moordyke,  sailor. 
That's  real  Yorkshire,  and  it'll 
amuse  you." 

Dicky  found  himself  next  to 
Elsie  again  at  dinner.  He 
had  been  wondering  if  he  had 
in  any  way  "  blotted  his  copy- 


590 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


book "  during  the  course  of 
the  afternoon,  but  decided  that 
he  could  not  have  done  so. 
She  showed  no  sign  of  having 
been  offended,  and  chatted 
cheerfully  on  a  multitude  of 
topics,  most  of  which  were 
rather  outside  his  conversa- 
tional range.  He  joined  her 
in  the  drawing  -  room  after 
dinner  with  a  certain  feeling 
of  pleasurable  relief,  the  talk 
over  the  port  having  been 
entirely  political,  and,  to  him, 
rather  insincere.  As  he  ap- 
proached her  chair  Elsie 
jumped  up  and  came  towards 
him.  "  You're  not  to  sit  down 
and  be  comfortable  yet,"  she 
said.  "  It's  a  lovely  evening, 
and  you've  got  to  come  and 
see  the  view  down  the  dale 
from  the  tower.  Come  along 
— I've  only  got  to  pick  a 
scarf  up.  Phyllis !  take  Mr 
Pennistone  up — I'm  sure  he'd 
like  to  come." 

Dicky  followed  her  from  the 
room,  hearing  as  he  left  Penni- 
stone's  firm  refusal  to  commit 
himself  to  any  climbing  exer- 
cise after  dinner.  Elsie  led 
him  through  two  rooms,  along 
a  passage,  and  then  up  a 
narrow  staircase  that  seemed 
to  be  never-ending.  The  steps 
were  very  worn,  and  the  walls 
cold  and  rough.  Each  turn  of 
the  stairs  gave  access  to  light- 
switches,  which  they  made  and 
broke  successively  as  they 
passed.  The  climb  ended  sud- 
denly in  a  door.  Dicky  pushed 
it  open,  and  they  stepped  out 
to  the  lead  roof  of  the  tower, 
and  stood  looking  over  the 
low  wall  to  the  dark  blue  of 


the  sky  and  the  twilight  of  the 
valley.  To  the  north-west  the 
sky  was  still  bright  over  the 
path  of  the  sun,  and  though 
it  was  nine  o'clock  it  was  clear 
enough  to  see  for  miles  over 
the  fields  and  villages  below. 

"  How  old  is  the  tower  !  " 
said  Dicky.  "  Norman,  isn't 
it?  " 

"  Yes,  I  don't  know  when 
it  was  built.  It  used  to  be  a 
monastery  or  something.  The 
rest  of  the  house  is  new." 

"  Well,  the  monks  had  bad 
consciences  if  it  was.  The 
walls  are  five  feet  through,  and 
big  blocks  at  that.  What  a 
perfect  view  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  notice  you're 
looking  up  at  the  moor  as  much 
as  down  the  dale.  Won't  you 
condescend  to  civilisation  occa- 
sionally ?  " 

"  Now  you're  after  me  again 
about  something,  Miss  Han- 
sard. What  is  it  I  keep  saying 
wrong  f  " 

"  I  don't  think  you  say  any- 
thing wrong.  But  you  and  I 
like  different  things,  you  see. 
I  hate  the  moors  because  I'm 
afraid  of  them,  and  you're  so 
much  part  of  the  moor  and 
you  despise  the  things  I  like." 

"  But,  you  know — you  mean 
you  dislike  me  too — like  the 
moors  1  " 

"  I'm  not  sure.  Perhaps 
that's  it " 

"  I'm  sorry  for  that — I  don't 
like  being  disliked  by  any  one." 

"  Mr  Chapman  doesn't  dis- 
like you.  He's  been  talking 
about  you  to  me." 

"  I  like  him.  But  I'm  sorry 
you  think  I'm  no  good." 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


591 


"Did  I  say  that?  I  don't 
think  so."  She  stood  up  and 
faced  him.  She  held  her  scarf 
across  her  back,  her  hands  out 
behind  her.  Her  head  was 
tilted  back  a  little,  and  the 
evening  after-glow  shone  on  her 
white  face.  Dicky  caught  his 
breath  and  stepped  close  to 
her.  His  hands  slowly  took 
hold  of  hers  and  brought  them 
round  to  his  chest — the  scarf 
sliding  up  over  her  white  shoul- 
ders. For  a  second  they  stood 
motionless,  then  she  stepped 
back  and  laughed. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said. 
"  That  was  just  a  sop  to  my 
vanity.  Now  we  can  talk 
sensibly."  She  threw  the  scarf 
across  the  parapet  and  sat  on 
it.  "  You'd  have  asked  me  to 
marry  you  in  a  minute,  wouldn't 
you  ?  and  you'd  have  wished 
you  hadn't  if  I'd  taken  you 
up.  You  see,  I  like  you,  you 
dour  man,  and  even  if  I  want- 
ed to  I  wouldn't  marry  you. 
We're  not  suited  quite,  are 
we?  " 

Dicky  was  somewhat  startled 
and  puzzled.  He  was  also,  if 
the  truth  must  be  told,  a  little 
relieved.  "  Well,  I'm  afraid 
I'm  not  up  to  your  standard, 
am  I  ?  " 

"Now  don't  try  and  pay 
compliments ;  it  doesn't  suit 
you.  How  is  it  I  was  able  to 
make  you  come  so  near  to 
being  silly  just  now  ?  You 
only  came  here  yesterday." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  because 
I'm  a  man  and  you're  a 
very  beautiful  girl.  Is  that 
right  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  right — and  you 


don't  want  to  marry  just  for 
that  reason,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No.  But  why  such  a  fuss 
about  getting  married  at  all  ? 
It's  not  such  an  important 
thing." 

"  Not  for  you.  But  what 
else  have  I  or  any  other  girl 
of  my  lot  got  to  think  of  ?  " 

"  But  you  could  marry 
who  you  liked,  couldn't 
you  ?  " 

Elsie  paused  before  replying. 
"  Listen,"  she  said.  "  This  is 
my  revolution,  and  I'm  telling 
you  because  I  must  tell  some 
man,  and  you  don't  repeat 
things.  I  think  I'm  crazy  to- 
night too.  I've  got  nothing  to 
give  a  man  except  my  looks. 
I've  got  none  of  the  ideas  men 
want,  except  the  men  I  used 
to  think  counted,  and  I've 
known  a  long  time  that  they 
don't.  I'm  just  an  amateur 
chorus-girl  or  a  slave  for  the 
market.  I  know  that  I  shall 
have  to  marry  some  day,  and 
I  know  now  that  it  won't  be 
to  a  decent  man.  I  know  the 
sort  of  man  I'll  marry.  He'll 
be  one  of  the  type  that  will 
want  to  buy  me  after  he's  seen 
me  once  or  twice.  I  used  to 
think  I  was  a  great  success. 
Now  I  know  that  my  audience 
was  not  worth  stooping  to,  but 
one  day  I  shall  have  to  be 
taken  away  by  one  of  them 
like  a  horse  from  a  fair.  One 
day  you'll  find  some  one  as 
you  described  her — as  genuine 
as  your  gun-barrels, — but  she 
won't  be  like  me.  D'you  think 
I'm  mad  1  " 

"  No,    I   think   you're   very 
sane.    But  I  think  you've  got 


592 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


a  fit  of  morbid  self-deprecia- 
tion  " 

"  Do  you  ?  Do  you  think 
the  sort  of  men  you  are  friends 
with  would  want  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  no— not  at  first.  But 
if  you  talked  to  them  like  this 
they'd  find  out." 

"And  I  wouldn't  talk  like 
this  to  a  man  I  wanted — and 
it's  too  late  for  me  to  change. 
I  must  go  on  as  I  started." 
She  shivered,  and  looked  up  at 
the  stars.  "  Take  me  down 
again.  They'll  want  me  to 
sing  or  something,  and  we've 
been  here  too  long."  At  the 
top  of  the  stairs  she  turned 
and  looked  up  at  him.  "  Are 
you  going  to  laugh  when  you 
think  of  this  to-night  ?  " 

Dicky  slung  the  loop  of  her 
abandoned  scarf  over  her  head 
and  round  her  shoulders.  He 
did  it  as  nonchalantly  as  if  she 
had  been  of  his  own  sex.  "  No," 
he  said,  "  but  I'm  going  to  kick 
myself  for  being  such  a  fool 
as  to  judge  by  first  impres- 
sions." 

"  And  what  does  that  mean?" 

"  I  thought  the  gun-barrels 
were  factory  -  made.  They're 
not.  They're  the  real  thing." 

"  Thank  you,  sailor,"  said 
Elsie.  "  I  don't  think  you're 
right,  but  I'll  hope  it's  true." 
She  ran  down  the  stairs  in 
front  of  him,  whistling  a  catchy 
dancing  tune  ;  the  serious  mood 
had  passed,  and  she  seemed  the 
spoiled  child  of  London  again. 

Dicky  was  down  early 
to  breakfast,  and  found  his 
host  standing  by  the  dining- 
room  fire  engaged  in  glancing 


through  a  pile  of  correspon- 
dence. "  Good  morning,  Fan- 
cett.  Hope  you  slept  well  ? 
That's  right.  The  coffee's 
ready.  You'd  better  help  your- 
self and  start.  Er — Chapman 
tells  me  he  wants  to  take  you 
off  this  evening  to  shoot  with 
him.  No — not  at  all,  not  at 
all — glad  you're  getting  the 
chance  of  sport.  Did — er — 
Chapman  tell  you  anything 
about  the  place — er — the  peo- 
pie " 

"  Oh  yes.  He  said  they  were 
a  straightforward  lot — a  syndi- 
cate; he  said  I'd  like  them." 

"  Oh,  quite  straightforward 
— yes — have  some  bacon — but 
what  I  wanted  to  mention  was 
that  they're  perhaps  not  quite 
what  we're  used  to,  eh  ?  Of 
course,  you  naval  men  knock 
about  a  lot,  and  you're  a  man 
of  the  world.  You  see — er — 
Chapman  now  —  a  charming 
man — very  well  off,  I'm  told, 
but,  of  course — you  noticed 
yourself,  I  expect  —  er  —  here 
come  some  of  the  others.  Are 
you  ready  for  more  coffee  ?  " 

Dicky  could  have  kicked 
Hansard  just  then.  He  would 
certainly  have  answered  with 
some  gentle  sarcasm  had  not 
the  arrival  of  an  audience 
checked  him.  His  training  had 
taught  him  to  hate  all  snobs 
and  all  hypocrisy,  and  to  judge 
all  men  by  what  they  did  and 
by  their  acts.  This  was  natural, 
for  the  sea  takes  no  count  of 
a  man's  pretensions — only  re- 
sults are  any  good  when  one 
has  to  deal  with  either  nature 
or  an  enemy.  He  had  more 
respect  for  a  chimney-sweep,  if 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


593 


he  was  a  good  chimney-sweep, 
than  for  a  Cabinet  Minister, 
if  he  was  a  bad  Cabinet  Minis- 
ter. He  wondered  if  Hansard 
had  ever  reflected  that  one 
corpse  is  much  the  same  as 
another  after  three  weeks.  At 
this  point  he  decided  that  such 
grim  ideas  were  out  of  place  at 
breakfast,  and  began  to  chat 
with  his  placid  hostess,  who 
gravely  repeated  to  him  her 
advice  of  the  previous  day — 
namely,  that  he  should  wear 
plenty  of  thick  clothes  on  the 
moor, — advice  he  had  no  in- 
tention of  following. 

The  day  was  overcast  and 
threatening  ;  the  first  drops  of 
rain  fell  as  the  party  was  leav- 
ing the  house,  and  there  was  a 
general  break  back  to  fetch 
mackintoshes  and  other  water- 
proofs. In  drizzling  mist  they 
walked  up  the  steep  hill  and 
the  first  drive  began.  Dicky 
started  to  shed  his  coat  on 
arrival  in  his  butt,  but  changed 
his  mind  as  the  drizzle  changed 
to  a  steady  downpour.  He 
felt  rather  cramped  in  a  water- 
proof, and  doubted  his  ability 
to  shoot  quickly  in  it.  The 
floor  of  the  butt  was  an  evil 
quagmire,  the  rain  beaded  on 
his  well  -  oiled  gun  -  barrels, 
dripped  from  his  hands,  and 
beat  on  the  heather  in  long 
driving  waves.  A  big  brood 
came  down  the  line  out  of 
range  from  him,  swung  in  be- 
tween Pennistone  and  Hansard, 
and  as  a  result  of  four  barrels 
left  one  of  their  number  flut- 
tering behind  the  butts.  The 
birds  came  wild  and  wide,  un- 
able for  the  rain  to  see  where 


they  were  going,  all  flying  low, 
and  some  pitching  short  eighty 
yards  in  front  of  the  guns,  to 
rise  and  turn  back  as  the  drivers 
approached. 

The  drive  ended  with  the 
small  score  of  five  and  a  half 
brace,  of  which  Dicky  was 
responsible  for  a  brace  only. 
His  misses  we  will  not  inquire 
into.  Hansard  came  up  the 
line  and  called  a  halt.  "  It's 
no  good  while  this  lasts.  We'll 
move  up  to  the  Lead-house 
over  there,  and  shelter  till  it 
improves — everybody — drivers 
and  all." 

The  company  turned  up  its 
collective  coat  collar  and  moved. 
A  quarter  of  a  mile  uphill  the 
Lead-house  (a  barn-like  stone 
building  which  had  some  half- 
forgotten  connection  with  the 
disused  lead-mines  on  the  moor) 
showed  dimly  through  the  rain. 
They  entered  through  a  low 
arch  on  the  lee  side  and  found 
themselves  sharing  the  draughty 
ramshackle  building  with  half 
a  score  of  black-faced  sheep, 
who,  after  charging  violently 
round  for  half  a  minute,  bolted 
out,  upsetting  two  dogs  as  they 
left,  and  being  enthusiastically 
assisted  in  their  flight  by  the 
delighted  shrieks  of  some  of  the 
boys.  Hansard  led  the  guns 
to  a  corner,  where  they  could 
sit  on  their  cartridge-bags  with 
their  backs  against  the  rough 
wall.  The  flankers  and  drivers 
herded  against  the  farther  wall, 
and  one  boy,  producing  a 
mouth-organ,  began  to  play 
jigs  in  a  minor  key.  The  scent 
of  wet  tweed  and  wool  began 
to  fill  the  air,  and  mixed  with 


594 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


the  scents  of  tobacco-smoke 
and  dogs. 

The  guns  huddled  together 
and  conferred — Hansard,  Play- 
ton,  and  Pennistone  disagree- 
ing on  the  weather  prospects 
and  the  possibility  of  sport. 
Dicky  hoped  they  would  go 
on  shooting  at  all  costs,  and 
played  with  Lady's  steaming 
ears.  She  rested  her  head  on 
his  knee,  and  watched  her 
master's  face  with  unwinking 
devotion.  The  mouth  -  organ 
began  to  play  a  simple  air, 
and  a  tall  flanker  crouching 
by  the  wall  stood  up  and  began 
to  sing.  His  song  was  quite 
unintelligible  to  Dicky.  All  he 
could  catch  of  it  was  a  refrain 
which  said,  "  On  Ilkley  Moor 
'baht  'at,"  and  that  didn't 
seem  to  mean  much.  He 
nudged  Chapman. 

"  What's  it  aU  about  !  " 

"  Oh,  it's  a  sad  story.  It's 
about  a  man  who  went  on  the 
moor  '  'baht  'at '  (that  means 
without  a  hat),  and  caught 
his  death  of  cold — and  died 
and  was  buried — and  the  worms 
ate  him — and  the  ducks  ate 
the  worms — and  we  ate  the 
ducks,  and " 

"  Good  Lord,  how  cheerful ! 
How  many  verses  are  there  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I've  never 
heard  more  than  forty,  but 
then  I'm  not  a  good  stayer. 
If  this  rain  keeps  up  we  ought 
to  hear  a  lot  of  it.  D'you  see 
that  old  chap  in  the  corner  f 
the  one  with  the  long  stick  f 
Well,  he  used  to  hunt  with 
John  Peel — in  his  coat  so  gray 
(it  was  gray,  you  know — "  gay  " 
is  a  misprint  in  the  song).  He 


was  only  two  years  old  at  the 
time,  but  his  father  used  to 
run  after  the  hounds  carrying 
him  on  his  back.  It's  a  wonder 
he  didn't  die  of  it,  for  after  a 
kill  they  used  to  drink  till  they 
couldn't  see,  and  his  mother 
used  to  come  and  collect  him 
from  t'  pub  and  take  him  home. 
They  can't  do  much  in  this 
country  'thout  wetting  it.  See 
the  little  chap  in  blue  jersey  ? 
His  father's  family  have  had 
the  same  farm  here  since  as 
far  back  as  any  one  can  tell 
— back  to  Eoman  times,  per- 
haps ;  there's  a  Eoman  founda- 
tion in  their  cattle-yard,  any- 
how, and  the  Eoman  road  to 
Scotland  runs  past  their  gate. 
His  father  says  the  Eoman 
house  was  the  pub  that  sup- 
plied the  camp  at  top  o'  t'  pass, 
and  for  all  I  know  he's  right. 
His  forebears  may  have  kept 
t'  pub  like." 

"  What's  his  name  !  " 
"  Chapman  —  good  man,  I 
think.  There's  a  matter  of 
twenty  of  'em  in  this  dale. 
There's  a  Thwaite  here  too. 
He's  next  to  chap  singing. 
Names  here  are  like  in  Scot- 
land— all  the  same  in  one  dis- 
trict ;  did  I  see  you  putting  a 
flask  in  your  pocket  as  you 
started  ?  What  do  you  say  ? 
Good  man — here's  luck." 

Dicky  received  the  flask  back 
and  looked  round.  Playton  and 
Thwaite  had  also  produced 
liquid  cheerfulness,  and  the 
guns  generally  seemed  well 
supplied.  He  took  a  pull  him- 
self, and  closed  the  cap  thought- 
fully. "  Look  at  your  old  John 
Peel  follower,"  he  said.  "  He's 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


595 


wet  through,  and  he's  over 
eighty.  Shall  I  chuck  him  this 
flask  ?  " 

"  Don't  chuck  it — one  of 
'em  '11  fetch  it."  Chapman 
held  the  flask  up,  and  attracted 
the  keeper's  eye.  That  official 
showed  no  facial  recognition 
of  the  signal,  but  he  touched 
his  big  black  retriever  with 
his  foot,  and  moved  a  horny 
hand.  The  dog  stood  up, 
studied  his  master  and  Chap- 
man for  a  moment,  and  then 
tiptoed  across  the  barn  to  take 
the  flask  gently  in  his  mouth 
and  carry  it  back  at  a  trot  to 
the  keeper's  hand.  The  re- 
cipient looked  at  the  initials, 
drank,  and  passed  it  to  his 
neighbour. 

"  Yes,"  said  Chapman. 
"  You'll  say  that's  a  good  dog. 
It's  not  a  bad  dog,  but  that's 
not  the  way  to  bring  it  up. 
Never  let  your  dog  take  metal 
in  his  mouth,  sailor — that  is, 
if  you  want  to  have  the  birds 
plucked  at  home  and  not  on  t' 
moor." 

Dicky  laughed.  "  That 
flask's  being  plucked,"  he  said. 
"It'll  only  last  about  half  a 
dozen  of  'em.  It's  all  right, 
though  —  grandfather's  got  a 
pull  at  it." 

"Aye  —  you've  lost  your 
whisky.  But  there's  more  to 
be  got.  They'll  think  ne  waur 
o'  you  for  sendin'  it." 

"O  Lord!  I  don't  mind. 
Pity  it's  not  a  bottle " 

"  I'll  bet  there's  a  bottle  or 
more  under  this  roof  now." 
He  turned  to  answer  Hansard. 
"  Yes,  I  think  you're  right — 
it's  clearing  in  patches,  but 


we  won't  do  much  good  to- 
day." 

"  What  do  you  think,  then  ? 
Try  another  drive,  or  go  home1? " 

"Well"— a  nudge  in  the 
back  from  Dicky  made  him 
change  his  mind  (and  Dicky 
realised  at  the  same  moment 
that  it  was  a  remarkably  quick 
and  sensitive  mind) — "  I'd  say 
try  another  drive;  you've  got 
all  the  men  out  for  the  day, 
and  we're  all  wet  anyhow  and 
can't  get  wetter.  It's  better 
than  sitting  indoors." 

"  All  right,  then."  Hansard 
rose  to  his  feet  and  beckoned 
the  keeper.  Guns  and  men 
got  up  stiffly  and  began  to 
move  to  the  door.  The  rain 
had  eased  a  little,  but  it  was 
still  a  distinctly  wet  day.  As 
the  procession  started  on  up 
the  hill,  Dicky  touched  Chap- 
man's arm.  "  I  say,"  he  said, 
"  a  chap's  just  given  me  my 
flask  back,  and " 

"  Well,  they  wouldn't  pinch 

"It's  not  that.  It's  full 
again." 

"  Ah — well,  I  told  you  there 
was  probably  some  whisky 
about.  They  all  had  a  pull 
at  yours  for  luck,  and  they 
filled  it  again  for  fear  you'd  go 
dry." 

"  But  is  that  usual  1  " 

"  No — but  you're  a  stranger 
here,  d'you  see,  and  they  think 
you're  a  decent  sort." 

"  That's  polite  of  'em.  But 
they  must  be  quick  at  forming 
ideas,  then." 

"  They're  not.  They've 
watched  you  and  discussed 
you  and  made  up  their  minds 


596 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


about  you,  and  if  you  happen 
to  go  into  a  pub  now  and  one 
of  'em  sees  you  and  asks  you 
to  drink,  why — you  take  t' 
drink.  If  you  don't  he'll  alter 
his  opinion.  Have  you  got  a 
cartridge  extractor  ?  " 
"  Yes  ;  d'you  want  it  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  may.  But  you  may, 
too.  I'm  next  butt,  so  if  I  get 
hung  up  with  wet  cartridges 
I'll  send  my  man  up  to  you. 
This  is  just  the  day  for  ejectors 
to  stick." 

The  drivers  turned  up  a 
rough  sheep-track  to  the  left, 
and  the  guns  plodded  on  in 
silence.  At  least  two  of  them 
were  wishing  that  the  order 
had  been  given  for  home  in- 
stead of  another  drive.  The 
rain  was  coming  down  heavier 
all  the  time,  and  the  visibility 
was  reduced  to  a  few  hundred 
yards  only.  The  butts  loomed 
up  suddenly  ahead,  and  one 
by  one  the  dripping  shooters 
sought  the  doubtful  shelter 
of  their  allotted  positions. 
Even  Dicky's  enthusiasm  was 
a  little  damped  at  the  prospect, 
and  his  zeal  was  yet  further 
reduced  by  finding  the  drain 
of  his  butt  choked  and  a  foot 
of  brown  water  on  the  floor. 
He  kicked  away  the  fallen 
peats  that  obstructed  the  chan- 
nel, waited  till  the  muddy 
river  had  gushed  out,  and  then 
entered,  his  boots  sinking  up 
to  the  anklets  in  the  entrance. 
He  took  two  cartridges  from 
his  pocket,  and  on  trying  to 
load  discovered  that  they  were 
wet  and  swollen.  A  couple 
of  oaths  and  a  jerk  got  them 
out  of  the  chamber,  and  he 


loaded  with  fresh  cartridges 
from  his  bag.  Then  followed 
a  pause,  a  wait,  an  age  of 
dulness,  while  the  cold  rain 
found  its  way  down  the  knees 
of  his  breeches,  to  meet  the 
warmer  waves  that  capillary 
attraction  was  leading  upwards 
from  his  feet.  After  a  full 
half-hour  he  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  just 
the  ideal  day  to  spend  in  bed, 
when  the  first  birds  arrived. 
Two  passed  him  unfired  at, 
and  a  few  passed  down  the 
line  greeted  by  scattered  shots. 
Just  then  the  rain  began  to 
stop,  a  pale  sun  broke  for  an 
instant  through  the  clouds,  and 
the  visibility  rose  to  a  mile. 

Along  the  line  he  could  see 
the  heads  of  guns  appearing 
as  they  ceased  to  crouch  from 
the  wind,  and  he  straightened 
up  and  brushed  the  water 
from  his  gun-barrels  with  his 
hand.  Grouse  appeared  sud- 
denly in  front — twenty  feet 
high.  He  took  the  leading 
bird  forty  yards  out,  and  killed 
him  well.  The  second  he  missed 
through  letting  it  get  too  close  ; 
its  rate  of  change  (as  the  Navy 
would  call  it)  rose  to  an  im- 
possible amount  for  his  gun 
to  follow  as  it  whipped  over- 
head, and  his  shot  cut  the  air 
three  feet  behind  it.  Two 
single  birds  came  down  the 
line,  a  long  way  out  in  front 
of  him.  He  dropped  one  with 
his  second  barrel,  and  the 
other  was  missed  by  two  guns 
before  Hansard  stopped  it.  He 
saw  Playton  kill  a  brace  of 
high  ones  very  prettily,  missed 
a  low  one  himself,  and  then 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


597 


left  his  damp  shelter  to  greet 
the  approaching  drivers.  He 
picked  up  one  of  his  birds, 
and  shouted  to  the  man  nearest 
his  second  one  to  look  for  it. 
It  was  found  after  a  short 
interval,  having  evidently,  from 
the  splashings  that  the  search 
entailed,  fallen  into  water.  The 
finder  came  on,  and  took  the 
first  bird  from  Dicky's  hand. 
"  Gor  !  "  he  said,  "  t*  burrds'll 
not  gi'  shutin'  i'  such  weather's 
yon.  Us  chaps  and  you 
shuters  'ud  be  better  at  t' 
drinkin'." 

Dicky  found  himself  copying 
the  rising  intonation  of  the 
man's  speech.  "  Aye,"  he  said, 
"  or  in  bed " 

"  You're  right,  and  then  t' 
Bible  says  King  Solomon  had 
five  hunnert  wives,  and  he 
were  none  sichna  fule  ney- 
ther."  He  lurched  on  to- 
wards the  next  butt,  leaving 
Dicky  rather  puzzled  and  be- 
wildered at  his  cryptic  state- 
ment. 

They  tramped  back  to  the 
house  with  a  following  wind. 
The  rain  followed  them  in 
occasional  gusty  showers,  and 
the  wet  heather  splashed  water 
up  to  their  waists.  Dicky  felt 
thankful  that  the  day  was  yet 
young,  and  that  there  was 
time  to  get  his  clothes  dried 
before  he  left  with  Chapman 
in  the  evening.  As  they 
dropped  down  through  the 
wood  above  the  house,  he 
felt  as  tired  as  if  they  had 
had  a  full  day.  His  boots 
squelched  and  leaked  on  the 
harder  ground,  and  the  wet 
knees  of  his  breeches  dragged 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXXIII. 


as  he  walked.  The  guns  dis- 
persed to  their  rooms,  and  the 
sailor's  early  training  in  the 
art  of  rapid  undressing  carried 
him  into  a  bathroom  fifteen 
seconds  before  two  other  half- 
dressed  strategists  hammered 
vainly  on  the  door.  As  he  lay 
back  in  the  steaming  water, 
the  thought  of  the  number  of 
officers  at  the  moment  on 
watch  on  wet  and  heaving 
bridges  was  a  great  comfort 
to  him,  and  indeed  made  him 
stretch  out  a  leg  luxuriously 
to  open  the  hot-water  tap  just 
once  again. 

Half  an  hour  later,  comfort- 
able in  lounge-suit  and  pumps, 
he  came  down  to  the  smoking- 
room.  He  occupied  a  big  chair 
by  the  fire  for  another  twenty 
minutes  before  the  others  began 
to  arrive,  and  to  lower  them- 
selves into  arm-chairs  with  sighs 
of  satisfaction.  Hansard,  on 
entering,  rang  for  hot  water 
and  the  necessary  ingredients 
for  the  supply  of  toddies,  and 
his  action  was  responded  to  by 
applauding  grunts. 

For  a  while  the  music  of 
tinkling  spoons,  with  occa- 
sional suctional  accompani- 
ments, was  all  that  broke  the 
silence  ;  then  Hansard,  throw- 
ing the  '  Yorkshire  Post '  on 
to  the  table,  remarked  that 
the  Foreign  Secretary's  speech 
of  the  day  before  appeared  to 
have  been  well  received. 

Nobody  seemed  inclined  to 
reply  for  a  moment.  They 
were  not  quite  attuned  just  then 
to  political  comments  or  argu- 
ment. Then  Playton  gallantly 
agreed,  and  added  that  the 
z 


598 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


Foreign  Policy  seemed,  on  the 
whole,  to  be  acceptable  to  the 
people. 

"  Ah,  but  is  it  ?  "  Hansard 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
crossed  his  legs.  "  There  is  a 
distinct  Bolshevist  tendency  in 
the  country  which  is  against 
all  foreign  policy — as  such — 
and  in  favour  of  international 
communism.  I  consider  it  dan- 
gerous, not  perhaps  at*  this 
juncture  —  but  in  the  near 
future." 

"  But  hasn't  some  one  said 
that  we're  all  Bolshevists  now?" 
asked  Dicky.  "Oh  no  ! — it 
was  Home  Eulers  or  something, 
but  we  are  all  Bolshevists  now 
to  a  certain  extent." 

"  A  sweeping  statement,  Fan- 
cett,  but  I  see  a  grain  of  truth 
in  it,  I  admit.  We  are  cer- 
tainly all  advanced  Liberals 
now,  if  some  of  us  do  not 
actually  tend  to  Socialism.  But 
we  are  far  from  being  revolu- 
tionaries." 

"  Well  "—Chapman  put  his 
empty  glass  on  the  table — "  I 
can  see  the  point  of  view  of  a 
Bolshevist,  although  I'm  not 
one.  If  I  had  no^money  and 
no  prospects  of  any,  but  if  I 
had  a  rifle — if  I  had  been 
taught  for  some  years  that  the 
best  man  was  the  one  that  shot 
first  and  straightest — if  I  had 
nothing  to  lose  and  everything 
to  gain,  I'd  be  a  Bolshevist 
with  the  best  of  'em." 

"  But  that's  being  much  too 
sympathetic,"  said  Hansard. 
"  One  must  respect  law  and 
order  ;  one  must  turn  to  work 
after  war  in  order  to  live  and 
not  to  further  violence.  There 


may  be  an  uneducated  tend- 
ency to  dissatisfaction,  but  the 
constitution  of  the  country 
must  be  respected." 

"  True  ;  but  having  taught 
your  man  that  life  is  cheap, 
and  that  other  people's  rights 
and  constitutions  are  worth 
little,  you  must  expect  trouble 
in  drawing  such  ideas  out  of 
his  head  again.  War  propa- 
ganda can't  be  switched  off 
suddenly — at  least,  its  effects 
can't." 

"  But  the  people  know  that 
they  fought  for  their  own  liberty 
— they  must  see  it  is  no  use 
fighting  for  a  thing  and  then 
throwing  it  away  afterwards." 

Chapman  laughed  in  a  grim 
way.  "  You  were  brought  up 
in  comfort,  Hansard,"  he  said  ; 
"  I  wasn't.  I  worked  up  from 
an  apprentice,  and  I  was  five 
years  in  t'mill  before  I  began 
to  give  myself  any  education. 
I  tell  you,  it's  a  marvel  to  me 
why  our  men  fought  as  they 
did,  or  why  they  enlisted  at  all. 
What  had  they  to  gain  ?  Noth- 
ing, except  their  self-respect. 
What  had  they  got  to  lose  ? 
Nothing.  They  might  have  had 
a  change  of  masters,  but  their 
wages  would  have  gone  on. 
Labour's  worth  paying  wher- 
ever it  is.  It's  you  and  I  that 
had  the  stake  to  lose,  and  those 
lads  fought  for  us." 

"  I  think  you're  putting  our 
men  in  a  poor  light,  Chap- 
man." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  I  think 
I'm  putting  them  in  a  much 
better  light.  They  fought  for 
something  which  was  not  a 
money  stake,  and  none  of  us 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


599 


here  can  say  that  of  our- 
selves." 

Hansard  was  silent,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  he  was  a  little 
hurt  at  Chapman's  heresies. 
Thwaite  broke  an  awkward 
pause. 

"  I  believe  you're  a  bit  of  a 
Socialist,  Chapman,"  he  said. 

"I  If  No — not  in  practice  ; 
I  am  in  theory,  just  as  we  all 
are.  In  Haggate  and  Harlsyke 
the  lads  are  nearly  all  Social- 
ists, but  they  own  most  of  the 
houses  there,  and  I  don't  notice 
'em  refusing  to  take  rents  for 
'em  either.  I've  got  t'mills 
and  I  get  t 'brass,  and  all  my 
lads  know  they  can  get  out  of 
clogs  and  wear  shoes  like  me 
if  they  get  their  chance  on  a 
good  market.  They  don't 
grudge  me  t'brass,  for  it's  my 
risk  and  my  brain  that  made 
t'mills,  but  they'll  not  call  me 
'  My  Lord '  if  I  buy  a  title 
to-morrow.  They  judge  on 
what  a  man  can  do,  and  not  on 
what  he  can  buy  i'  Burnley." 

"  But  you're  all  right.  Your 
men  are  on  piece-work,"  said 
Playton. 

"  Aye,  because  they  want  it 
and  I  want  it,  and  the  Union 


can  swing  for  all  they  care. 
They  don't  give  in  to  Unions. 
They  make  their  own  trade 
wi'  me." 

"  Well,  that's  where  you're 
lucky.  If  my  miners  were  on 
piece-work  I'd  be  better  off." 

"  Why  is  it  the  cotton  and 
wool  men  do  piece-work  and 
the  miners  won't  ?  " — Dicky 
was  genuinely  interested. 

Playton  started  to  answer, 
but  Chapman  forestalled  him. 
"  For  one  thing,  the  operatives 
are  educated  men  and  the 
miners  are  not, ' '  he  said.  "Edu- 
cate the  miners  up  to  Poly- 
technic standard  like  the  Lan- 
cashire lads,  and  you'll  get 
better  results  all  round." 

Pennistone  joined  in  with  a 
side  glance  at  Playton.  "  And 
put  the  miners  on  piece-work 
on  to  the  best  seams  and  the 
easiest  worked  too,"  he  said. 

Playton  gurgled.  "  And  how 
the  devil  could  you  do  that  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  There's  got  to  be 
management  of  a  mine.  You 
can't " 

"  Tea's  ready,  and  you're  not 
to  sit  talking  politics  here," 
came  the  voice  of  Phyllis  from 
the  doorway. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Dicky,  in  intervals  between  scious  an  air  of  posing  about 

handing  tea-cups,   sat   on  the  her,  and  he  noticed  that  her 

sofa  with  Elsie,  Chapman  being  laugh   was   less    artificial   and 

on  the  other  side  of  him.    The  more     infrequent.       Chapman 

girl  seemed  to  him  much  more  may  have  noticed  it  also,  as 

human  and  natural  than  before  on  one  occasion  of  their  both 

her    queer    outburst    on    the  rising  on  cake-fetching  expedi- 


tower-top   the   previous   even- 
ing ;     there   seemed   less   con- 


tions  together  he  did  not  show 
confusion   when   he   found   on 


600 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


regaining  the  sofa  that  he  had 
sat  down  next  to  her.  Nor- 
mally, he  would  have  seized 
the  first  opportunity  of  chang- 
ing his  place  again,  but  perhaps 
because  he  knew  he  would  be 
leaving  in  an  hour  or  two, 
perhaps  because  the  girl's  new 
manner  had  caused  him  to 
lower  his  shield  of  taciturn 
reserve,  he  accepted  the  posi- 
tion philosophically.  Dicky 
smiled  as  he  listened  to  the  con- 
versation between  the  two,  re- 
flecting that  they  must  be  men- 
tally as  far  apart  as  the  planets. 

"  Yes,  rotten  to  be  leaving 
like  this — but  we've  got  to 
get  on ;  they're  expecting  me 
at  Moordyke — got  to  see  the 
keeper  and  the  men,  an'  all " 

"  Have  you  bought  any  more 
curiosities  or  pictures  lately  1  " 
She  leaned  forward  towards 
Dicky.  "  You  know,  he  col- 
lects all  sorts  of  nice  things, 
Mr  Fancett." 

Chapman  hesitated  before  re- 
plying. "  Aye,"  he  said,  "  I've 
bought  a  picture.  I've  been 
wanting  it  some  time.  I  got 
it  from  Newcastle." 

"  And  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  called  '  Carmen  in 
Grey  and  Silver.'  It's " 

"  I  know,"  said  Dicky  ;  "I'd 
have  liked  it  too.  It's  fine." 

"  Aye,  it's  good.  Have  you 
seen  the  Academy  this  year, 
Miss  Hansard  ?  " 

Elsie  did  not  answer  the 
question.  She  was  looking  from 
one  man  to  the  other  with  a 
little  frown  between  her  arched 
eyebrows.  "  '  Carmen  '  ?  Yes, 
I  know.  A  girl  standing  up. 
And  you  both  like  it — why  ?  " 


The  two  men  looked  vaguely 
round  the  room  as  if  looking 
for  a  way  of  escape.  They 
neither  of  them  had  the  neces- 
sary finesse  to  enable  them  to 
guide  the  conversation  into 
another  channel,  and  all  they 
could  do  was  to  appear  rather 
helpless.  Elsie  suddenly  real- 
ised that  this  was  the  result  of 
her  question  involving  answers 
which  might  border  on  senti- 
ment, and  that  they  would 
both  sooner  die  than  confess 
to  having  been  guilty  of  such 
a  feeling.  She  came  to  the 
realisation  rather  quickly  (for 
her),  and  with  the  same  un- 
wonted intuition  she  jumped 
into  the  gap  and  extricated 
them.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I 
know  ;  but  no  girl  could  ever 
be  as  nice  as  that  girl  is.  It's 
a  wonderful  picture,  but  it 
isn't  true." 

Chapman  looked  sharply 
round  at  her.  "  You've  seen 
it  ?  "  He  frowned  at  her 
a  while,  thinking  hard.  "  I 
know  what  you  mean.  The 
model,  whoever  she  was,  didn't 
look  like  that,  but  the  artist 
knew  what  he  wanted  to  paint." 
He  was  looking  at  her  still  with 
a  puzzled  expression. 

"  And  he  painted  a  face  that 
makes  you  think  of  Barrie's 
plays,"  said  Dicky. 

"  Aye— that's  just  right." 

"  And  there's  no  such  girl," 
said  Elsie,  smiling  a  very  little. 
"  If  you  look  the  whole  world 
over  there's  no  girl  as  perfect 
as  that  one  looks.  If  you 
found  one  nearly  like  her  you'd 
find  she  was  really  a  little 
beast." 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


601 


Chapman  rose  to  attend  to 
Mrs  Hansard's  wants.  The 
good  lady  was  hovering  in 
dyspeptic  indecision  between 
a  choice  of  toast  and  sponge- 
cake. Dkky  smiled  at  Elsie. 
"  You're  very  cynical  to-day," 
he  said.  "  Why  dash  a  man's 
hopes  of  an  ideal  ?  " 

To  his  surprise  the  girl's 
face  suddenly  whitened.  "  Be- 
cause I  was  the  model  for  that 
picture,"  she  said,  "  when  I 
was  seventeen.  I  know  it's 
not  like  me,  but  it  wasn't  really 
meant  to  be." 

"  Good  Lord  !    And  he " 

"I'm  not  going  to  tell  him," 
said  Elsie  quickly,  as  Chapman 
came  back  towards  the  sofa. 

She  did  not ;  but  as  he  and 
Chapman  left  the  room  to- 
gether to  see  to  the  completion 
of  their  packing,  Dicky  did. 

An  hour  later  they  said 
their  good-byes.  Pennistone 
had  been  persuaded  to  stay 
the  night,  so  that  there  were 
only  the  two  of  them  to  travel. 
The  rain  had  stopped,  and 
there  was  promise  of  a  fair 
evening.  The  luggage,  the  guns 
and  cartridges,  were  stowed  in 
the  back  with  wet  mackintoshes 
atop,  and  Chapman's  shooting- 
coat  (which  he  had  forgotten 
to  get  dried)  stuffed  into  the 
pile. 

A  round  of  handshakes, 
laughter,  and  a  chorus  of  good 
wishes,  the  car-door  slammed, 
and  they  were  away,  swinging 
down  the  drive  to  the  purring 
of  thirty  horse-power. 

Chapman  drove  in  silence 
for  a  mile,  and  then,  to  Dicky's 


surprise,  his  first  remark  seemed 
rather  inconsequent. 

"  I  like  Barrie's  plays  ;  don't 
you  f  " 

"  Eh  T    Oh  yes,  dam'  good." 

"Huh!  What  d'you  think 
of  Hansard  t  " 

"  Well,  I  think  he'd  be  much 
more  human  if  he  was  honest 
with  himself.  He  seems  to  be 
always  thinking  of  what  he 
ought  to  say  instead  of  what 
he  wants  to.  I  suppose  it's  a 
Parliamentary  way  of  existing, 
but  I'm  sure  he'd  be  all  right 
if  he  became  a  private  man 
instead  of  a  public  one  now 
and  then." 

"  Aye  ;  that's  the  proper 
way  to  put  it,  I  suppose.  I'd 
say  that  what  he  wants  is  a 
good  drunk.  I  don't  suppose 
he's  ever  got  market  fresh 
and  made  a  proper  fool  of 
himself ;  it'd  do  him  a  rare 
bit  o'  good  if  he  did." 

There  was  silence  between 
them  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
while  the  car,  driven  at  a  speed 
that  would  give  a  Surrey  police- 
man palpitations,  boomed  along 
the  white  and  gently  rising 
road.  Then  Chapman  eased 
down  as  a  solitary  building 
appeared  on  the  crest  in  front. 
"I'm  going  to  pull  up  here," 
he  said.  "  There's  a  man  at 
t'  pub  I  want  to  see  about 
t'  game-cart  to-morrow." 

"  Who  ?     A  keeper  f  " 

"  No  ;  he's  a  gaite-holder 
at  Moordyke.  He  runs  four 
hundred  sheep  on't  moor — 
has  a  hundred  gaites " 

"  Will  he  be  here  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  He's  meetin' 
some  hogs  from  Swaledale,  and 


602 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


I  saw  'em  i'  t'pen  at  Cambodu- 
num."  He  slowed  and  braked 
at  the  door,  and  Dicky  stepped 
down  to  let  him  out.  "  Hogs  ? 
He's  a  pig-drover  then  ?  " 

"  Pigs  ?  No — hogs,  I  said — 
sheep.  They're  on  t'move  to 
t'market  now.  Wait  and  I'll 
see  if  he's  in."  He  stamped  in 
through  the  door,  leaving 
Dicky  leaning  against  the  near 
wing  of  the  car.  The  weather 
had  cleared  and  the  sky  had 
lightened.  There  was  the  ex- 
traordinary clearness  of  air 
which  comes  after  summer  rain, 
and  the  wind  whimpered  and 
sighed  across  the  moors  and 
round  the  grey  stone  walls  of 
the  inn.  The  view  ran  for 
miles  across  the  valley  to  where 
a  thin  line  of  white  showed  as 
the  exhaust  from  an  engine  on 
the  Carlisle  line.  It  was  ex- 
cessively lonely  and  peaceful, 
while  at  the  same  time  wild 
and  primitive.  Dicky  stretched 
his  arms  and  yawned.  Half- 
way through  the  yawn  he 
stopped  it  and  spun  round. 
A  voice  had  begun  to  sing  from 
the  farm  buildings  at  the  back 
of  the  inn,  breaking  into  the 
silence  so  abruptly  as  to  really 
startle  him.  Farm  girls  are 
known  occasionally  to  sing  at 
their  work,  but  they  do  not 
usually  know  "  Summertime  on 
Bredon,"  or  sing  in  a  beauti- 
fully-trained contralto  voice. 
It  was  quite  uncanny ;  the 
song  stopped  after  one  verse, 
and  then  came  a  whirl  of  notes 
— rising  and  falling  as  they 
echoed  out  over  the  moor — 
the  "Jewel  Song"  from 
'  Faust.'  Again  the  voice 


stopped  suddenly,  and  this 
time  there  came  the  clatter 
of  buckets  and  slam  of  a  gate 
to  terminate  the  song. 

Dicky  waited  a  moment,  and 
then  got  back  into  the  car  and 
sat  down.  If  the  singer  was 
moving  position  he  did  not 
want  to  discourage  her  by 
letting  her  see  her  audience. 
A  window  was  thrown  up  on 
the  first  floor,  just  out  of  sight 
from  the  road,  somebody 
whistled  a  few  sad  wailing 
notes,  and  then  in  broad  old- 
fashioned  Yorkshire  the  girl 
began  to  sing  something  new 
to  him.  The  song  was  perhaps 
as  old  as  Chaucer,  but  Dicky 
did  not  know  that : — 

"  This  ya  neet,  this  ya  neet, 

Ivvery  neet  an'  all, 
Fire  an'  fleet  an'  can'le  leet, 

An'  Christ  tak  up  thy  saul. 
When    thoo    frae    hence    away   art 


Ivvery  neet  an'  all, 
To  whinny-moor  thoo  cooms  at  last, 

An'  Christ  tak  up  thy  saul. 
If  ivver  thoo  gav  owther  hosen  or 
shoon, 

Ivvery  neet  an'  all, 
Clap  thee  doon  an'  put  'em  on, 

An'  Christ  tak  up  thy  saul." 

The  song  and  the  tune 
changed  suddenly,  and  the 
voice  sang  on  ^very  clear  and 
low  : — 

"  When  t'  een  grows  dim,  an'  folk  draw 

nigh  frae  t'other  saade  o;  t!  grave, 
It's  late  to  square  up  awd  accoonts  a 

gannin'  sowl  to  save. 
Nea  book,  nea  can'le,  bell,  nor  mass, 

nea  priest  iv  onny  Ian', 
When  t'  dree  neet  cooms,  can  patch  a 

sowl,  or  t'  totterin'  mak  to  stan'. 
An'  t'  winner  sheets  they  rattled  sair, 

an'  t'  mad  wild  wind  did  shrill, 
An' t'  Gabriel  ratchets  yelp'd  aboon, 

a  gannin'  sowl  to  chill. 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


603 


'Twere  a  dree  neet,  a  dree  neet,  for 

deeath  to  don  his  cowl, 
To  staup  abroad  wi'  whimly  treead, 

to  claim  a  gannin'  sowl. 
But  laal  deeath  recks " 


A  man's  voice  spoke  up- 
stairs, and  the  singer  stopped 
suddenly.  Dicky  heard  her 
laugh  and  the  window  slammed- 
to.  "  Whoo-wee-oo,"  said  the 
wind,  and  little  cold  chills  ran 
up  his  back  as  he  sat  in  the 
car.  "  This  ya  neet,  this  ya 
neet  —  iwery  neet  an'  all." 
Dicky  shook  himself  and  jumped 
out  of  the  car  to  look  up  at  the 
first-floor  windows.  Chapman 
came  out  of  the  front  door  and 
approached,  pulling  on  his  driv- 
ing-gloves. "  Sorry.  I've  kept 
you  waiting  a  devil  of  a  time, 
but  I've  squared  up  for  to- 
morrow. Were  you  sick  of 
waiting  ?  " 

"  Who  was  the  girl  singing 
out  at  the  back  ?  " 

"  I  dunno.  Was  there  one  ? 
Pretty  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  see  her — she  was 
out  milking  or  something.  She 
had  a  real  voice,  like  a  pro- 
fessional. Dam'  funny  hearing 
it  here." 

"  You  hear  anything  in  York- 
shire. It's  a  big  county.  So 
she  was  good  ?  Must  have  been 
queer  in  this  place.  We're 
near  the  top  o'  t'  pass  now — 
I've  heard  folk  sing  o'  nights 
out  on  moor  farms  and  it 
seemed  like  opera  in  London, 
but  maybe  if  I'd  been  closer 
it  wouldn't  ha'  been  so  good. 
Voice  carries  like  over  t'  moor 
— maybe  you'll  find  it>j3o  over 
water  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  though  I  know  I  was 


too  close  to  the  girl  at  that 
pub  to  be  deceived.  She  wasn't 
a  country  girl.  But  it  did  make 
me  think  of  a  case  when  I 
heard  the  same  over  water, 
and  it  seemed  queer  then 
too." 

"Tell  it.  You  won't  find 
out  who  the  girl  was.  I  don't 
know.  Forget  it,  and  tell  the 
yarn." 

"  Well,  it  was  off  Berbera  in 
1903.  We  were  at  anchor  off 
there  waiting  for  our  boats  to 
come  back.  We  had  a  cutter 
and  a  pinnace  out  cruising. 
They'd  been  down  the  coast 
patrolling  for  gun-runners,  and 
they  were  due  back  at  sunset 
— eight  days  away.  It  was 
the  break  of  the  monsoon,  and 
it  was  oily  calm  with  a  half 
moon  and  lots  of  stars.  The 
boats  were  late,  and  some  of  us 
were  sitting  up  on  the  quarter- 
deck smoking  and  waiting  for 
them.  There  wasn't  much 
noise — just  the  voices  of  the 
part  of  the  watch  that  was 
waiting  up  too,  coming  from 
forward.  Then  somebody  heard 
something,  and  we  stopped  talk- 
ing to  listen.  The  men  for'ard 
stopped  talking  as  well.  Then 
we  heard,  very  far  off,  a  mando- 
line playing  and  a  really  good 
voice  singing  '  The  Herding 
Song  ' — that  old  Scotch  thing. 
D'ye  know  it  ?  " 

"  Aye." 

"  Well,  the  man  singing  was 
one  of  our  lieutenants,  who 
sang  well ;  but  we  could  just 
make  out  the  pinnace  he 
was  in  coming  round  the  point 
three  miles  off.  We  could 
hear  every  word  and  note, 


604 


Heather  Mixture, 


[Nov. 


though.  I  always  remember 
that,  because  it  was  queer." 

"  Aye,  you  would.  Is  it 
true  they  can  pass  news  across 
Africa  with  a  drum  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  do  have  a  bush- 
telegraph.  But  some  of  the 
things  can't  come  through  that 
way.  You  know,  the  natives 
in  Alexandria  knew  of  Gordon's 
death  before  the  telegraph 
brought  the  news  ;  they  knew 
it  six  hours  before,  I  was  told." 

"  But  that's  always  cropping 
up.  I  heard  that  the  loss  of 
H.M.S.  Victoria  was  known  in 
London  in  a  few  hours,  and 
there  wasn't  any  wireless  tele- 
graphy then." 

"  There  are  so  many  stories 
of  the  Victoria  you  don't  know 
what  to  believe.  I  should  say 
that  there  are  so  many  rumours 
always  going  about  that  sooner 
or  later  some  of  them  must  be 
true,  and  then  you  hear  it 
advertised." 

"  And  that's  a  fact ;  and 
here's  the  last  hill,  and  the 
house  is  atop  of  it.  You'll  be 
glad  of  a  drink  and  a  chair  in 
a  minute." 

The  big  car  roared  up  the 
slope,  swung  round  a  sharp 
corner,  and  drew  up  before  a 
long,  low,  grey  building  that 
was  hiding  in  scattered  covert 
below  the  heather.  Two  men 
appeared  from  a  side-door,  and 
without  a  word  began  to  unload 
the  luggage  from  the  back. 
From  the  few  sentences  Chap- 
man let  fall  to  them  as  he  got 
out,  Dicky  gathered  they  were 
the  chauffeur  and  the  keeper 
respectively. 

Chapman  led  the  way  into  the 


house,  and  kicked  open  a  door 
off  the  hall.  A  cheery  low-ceil- 
inged  room  was  discovered,  a 
roaring  fire,  and  a  cluster  of 
long  leather  arm-chairs.  As 
they  peeled  off  their  coats 
and  scarves,  Dicky  surveyed 
the  surroundings ;  Chapman 
stamped  out  into  the  pas- 
sage with  the  coats,  and  his 
voice,  in  a  loud  Yorkshire  con- 
versation with  a  distant  female 
on  the  subject  of  dinner, 
could  be  heard  without.  A 
tour  of  the  room  gave  the 
guest  a  rough  idea  of  the 
Moordyke  atmosphere.  The 
bookcase  was  illuminating, 
though  a  trifle  puzzling  in 
places.  It  held  a  complete 
set  of  Surtees'  works,  and  a 
dozen  other  hunting  books  ; 
F.  C.  Selous's  books  on  big- 
game  shooting,  and  a  few  on  the 
same  subject  by  Edward  White ; 
a  dozen  books  on  shooting, 
the  earliest  being  a  first  edition 
of  Colonel  Hawker ;  a  few 
modern  books  on  the  horse 
and  stable  management ;  three 
on  fly-fishing,  two  on  sporting 
dogs.  All  these  were  to  be 
expected,  but  mixed  among 
them  in  equal  numbers  were 
such  anachronisms  as  '  The 
Antiquity  of  Man,'  '  Men  of 
the  Old  Stone  Age,'  &c.  ;  books 
on  porcelain,  pictures,  music, 
and  Eenaissance  art ;  the  works 
of  Tennyson,  Burns,  Kipling, 
Spenser,  Dante,  and  Alfred 
Noyes — all  mixed  up  and  well 
thumbed.  Dicky  ran  his  eye 
over  the  pictures  round  the 
room.  They  were  small,  and 
in  keeping  with  the  low  ceiling. 
There  were  two  of  "  the  Cow- 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


605 


boy  Artist's  "  best  there,  each 
a  perfect  and  wonderful  revela- 
tion of  the  horse  in  movement. 
They  were  evidently  the  origi- 
nals. Half  a  dozen  modern 
sporting  pictures,  in  cheap  black 
frames,  hung  on  one  wall. 
Dicky  decided  they  had  been 
cut  from  the  pages  of  Christ- 
mas numbers  of  the  '  Field,' 
and  his  guess  was  not  far 
wrong.  They  were  certainly 
well  chosen  for  their  accuracy 
in  portrayal  of  action,  and 
their  presence  beside  the  other 
pictures  was  typical  of  the 
direct  and  unswayed  mind  of 
their  owner.  Over  the  big 
fireplace  were  three  dark  Dutch 
paintings  in  heavy  gold  frames. 
Dicky  stood  back  and  studied 
them.  The  fire  crackled  and 
flared,  and  a  memory  began 
to  struggle  up  in  his  brain. 
Half  darkness  and  shadow  and 
shine — no,  half  a  minute — 
and  old  seafaring  men  come  in 
— he  moved  up  to  the  largest 
picture  to  look  at  it  more 
closely.  Some  one  had  pen- 
cilled a  verse  on  the  wall- 
paper between  the  picture  and 
its  neighbour,  and  Dicky,  in 
reading  it,  found  his  search 
for  a  quotation  ended.  Some 
one  had  thought  of  it  before 
him — 

"They  sit  there  in  the   shadow   and 

shine 
Of  the  flickering  fire  of  the  winter 

night, 
Figures  in  colour  and  design, 

Like  those  by  Rembrandt   of  the 

Rhine — 
Half  darkness  and  half  light. " 

His  host  came  into  the  room, 
and  Dicky  turned  round.    His 

VOL.  CCX. — NO.  MCCLXXIII. 


curiosity  as  to  Chapman's  mind 
and  tastes  was  satisfied — to 
some  extent.  He  was  not  quite 
sure,  however,  that  it  was  not 
whetted  also  by  its  discoveries. 
Dick's  attitude  towards  his 
fellow-man  was,  like  the  ele- 
phant's child,  full  of  "  satiable 
curiosity."  He  liked  to  know 
all  about  other  people's  mental 
processes,  work,  aims,  and  ideas. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  Chapman 
would  be  found  complex.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  (and  it  took 
him  a  little  time  to  find  it 
out)  Chapman  was  not.  He 
was  only  simple,  direct,  and 
straightforward.  Consistent  ex- 
amples of  such  types  being 
uncommon  in  the  south  of 
England,  Dicky  could  hardly 
be  blamed  for  being  puzzled 
on  meeting  one. 

He  dropped  into  a  chair  at 
his  host's  order,  and  the  whisky 
decanter  clinked  on  the  edges 
of  two  glasses.  "  Here's  to 
us  !  Aah — that's  good.  Now, 
Sailor,  I'd  best  tell  you  who's 
to  be  here,  and  what  sort  of 
asylum  you've  got  to." 

"  Fire  away." 

"  Well,  here's  t'  hoose  an' 
this  is  t'  smoking-room.  Some 
says  it's  t'  bar,  an'  they  might 

be  right,  an'  then Drinks 

are  in  t'  big  coo'boord  in  t' 
corner  and  t'  kettle  sits  by  t' 
arthstun.  Keeper — that's  Aid- 
ridge — lives  at  t'  back ;  keeper's 
wife  cooks — chauffeur  does  t' 
boots.  When  I'm  here  alone 
Mrs  Aldridge  fettles  my  room  ; 
when  we're  a  crowd  here  each 
man  fettles  his  ain — makes  bed 
like,  an'  all.  Well,  t'  chaps  is 
out  now,  but  they'll  be  in  ony 
z  2 


606 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Nov. 


minute.  They  went  calling 
up  t'  dale  in  t'  cars.  There's 
Outhwaite — cotton  fra'  Nelson  ; 
a  good  lad.  And  Astley  o' 
Bradford — he's  i'  wool  and  he's 
a  right  good  shot.  He  started 
as  a  working  hand  (as  I  did), 
and  now  he's  owner  of  two 
companies.  There's  Hanlan — 
he's  a  policeman  i'  Swaledale 
— pal  o'  Jim  Astley's, — he's  a 
right  sportsman,  and  comes 
up  for  the  fortnight.  Jim  has 
to  square  substitutes  to  get 
him  away.  He'll  not  shoot 
much.  He  can  do  it,  but  he 
likes  t'  marking  better.  There's 
Jack  Hunley — he's  just  nowt, 
but  he's  all  right.  Workman  ? 
No,  he's  Lord  Flamborough's 
son.  He's  a  decent  lad,  just 
about  twenty-four  or  near. 
Then  there's  Sam  Briggs — he's 
a  pal  of  mine.  £He'll  be  shoot- 
ing, and  he's  a  right  good 
shot  too.  He  gets  his  holiday 
this  time  o'  year  so  as  to  come 
here.  You'll  like  him — he's 
stud-groom  up  at  t'  Duke's, 
and  looks  after  t'  hunters. 
There'll  be  more  coming  to- 
morrow, but  that's  all  that's 
staying  i'  t'  hoose  now.  Clem 
Bates  may  come  to-night,  but 
I  doubt  if  he'll  get  away  from 
t'  office  while  to-morrow.  He 
made  eighteen  thousand  on  t' 
market  last  week,  and  wi' 
trade  good  like  that  he  won't 
let  up  while  he  can  be  addlin' 
brass." 

Dicky's  brain  was  reeling. 
The  list  sounded  like  the  call- 
over  of  a  prisoners'  camp  in 
Germany.  "  D'you  have  the 
same  party  'every  year  ?  "  he 
asked. 
"  More  or  less.  There's  usu- 


ally a  new-comer  or  two,  but 
it's  not  often  they  come  from 
out  of  other  parts  than  York- 
shire. You're  a  foreigner,  you 
see.  T'  lads  '11  be  interested  in 
you,  for  we  don't  see  much  o' 
your  trade  up  in  t'  dales." 

"  Well,  it's  a  mixed  bag 
you've  got.  Do  your  million- 
aires usually  shoot  with  their 
workmen  ?  " 

Chapman  looked  sharply  at 
Dick,  then,  apparently  reas- 
sured, smiled  as  he  answered. 
"  We're  not  Socialists,  if  that's 
what  you're  thinking  of.  We 
think  those  that  have  brass 
should  keep  it  if  they  can.  I 
brought  you  here  because  I 
guessed  you'd  fit  in  the  picture. 
There's  a  lot  i'  London  that 
wouldn't.  Now  we've  worked 
and  saved  and  speculated,  and 
we've  got  brass.  If  we  like  a 
man  we  say  so,  whether  he's 
a  duke  or  a  waiter,  and  we 
do  what  we  like  about  it.  We 
get  no  worse  work  out  of  our 
men  for  meeting  'em  this  sort 
of  way,  and  besides,  if  we  tried 
to  put  on  airs  they'd  laugh  at 
us.  If  a  man's  a  good  lad  we 
like  him  up  here,  and  we're 
not  scared  to  show  it." 

"  In  fact,  you've  got  the 
same  social  scale  that  war 
brings  in :  a  man's  judged  on 
his  efficiency." 

"  That's  right.  I  suppose 
war  did  do  that  too." 

"  Yes — a  democracy  of  dan- 
ger. Yours  is  a  democracy  of 
your  own.  If  a  man's  a  good 
lad,  he's  as  good  as  you." 

"And  why  not!  Why  it 
looks  queer  to  you  is  because 
you  haven't  seen  it  this  way 
before.  We've  got  brass  enough 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


607 


to  do  as  we  like.  In  the  south 
when  they  have  that  much 
brass  they  must  do  as  other 
people  like.  We  like  our  own 
way  best.  Here  are  t'cars " 

A  roar  of  engines  capped  his 
words,  and  he  rose  and  went 
to  the  door.  There  was  a  stamp 
of  feet  in  the  hall  and  the  sound 
of  gruff  voices.  Some  one 
hailed  him  loudly,  "  Eh  !  Billy. 

We've  had  a  of  a  

trip.      It's    been    rainin'    

buckets,  an'  we  left  Joe  Kelsey 
market  fresh  at  Conistone." 
Chapman  lounged  back  into 
the  room  and  a  big  square- 
faced  man  followed  him  in. 
"  Astley,"  said  the  host,  "  that's 
Fancett — Navy ' ' 

The  square-faced  man  looked 
Dicky  over  in  a  glance,  turned 
to  Chapman  and  held  out  his 
hands — one  palm  down  over 
the  back  of  the  other.  ' '  Head, ' ' 
said  Chapman. 

The  top  hand  slid  off.  A 
penny,  head  uppermost,  was 
revealed.  Astley  produced  a 
pound  note  from  a  trouser- 
pocket,  handed  it  over,  and 
looked  at  Dicky  again.  Dicky 
smiled  and  raised  his  eyebrows 
inquiringly.  Instantly  the 
hands  appeared  under  his  nose 
in  the  same  solemn  and  ex- 
pectant way — "  Tails,"  said 
Dicky. 

It  was  not ;  it  was  a  head. 
Trying  to  emulate  the  speed 
with  which  his  opponent  had 
done  the  same  thing  a  moment 
before,  Dicky  whipped  a  Brad- 
bury from  his  pocket  and  paid 
up.  The  big  man  turned  about 
and  left  the  room,  bellowing 
for  the  keeper's  wife.  Chap- 
man grinned. 


"  He'll  do  that  every  morn- 
ing to  you  now,"  he  said ; 
"he'd  have  missed  you  out  if 
you  hadn't  given  him  the  signal 
you'd  come  in.  He  does  it 
every  morning  to  us  at  break- 
fast, or  whenever  he  meets  one 
of  us  for  the  first  time  in  the 
day.  He's  from  Bradford." 

"Do  they  all  do  that  at 
Bradford  ?  " 

"  Aye,  most  of  'em.  Once 
to  each  man  they  meet  and 
no  more.  No  doubles  or  quits. 
Just  one  cut,  sharp.  Y'see, 
it's  a  matter  o'  credit,  an' 
credit's  brass  i'  business." 

The  entry  of  the  remainder 
of  the  party  interrupted  Dicky's 
attempts  to  unravel  this  cryptic 
explanation.  Chapman  intro- 
duced them  in  a  whirl  of  Chris- 
tian and  surnames  and  sat 
down  again.  There  was  a 
general  subsidence  into  chairs 
and  a  babel  of  talk.  All  the 
new  arrivals  seemed  to  want 
to  do  two  things  at  once — to 
take  off  their  boots  and  to  get 
something  to  drink.  Eventu- 
ally both  these  requirements 
were  satisfied.  There  seemed 
to  be  some  arrangement  by 
which  labour  was  shared  ;  per- 
haps the  offices  were  traditional 
and  hereditary  or  perhaps  were 
arranged  for  the  occasion,  but 
certainly  the  peer's  son  carried 
the  boots  out  to  the  kitchen, 
and  the  sporting  policeman 
mixed  the  drinks.  A  heap  of 
slippers  by  the  side  of  the  fire 
was  sorted  out  and  distributed, 
and  with  one  accord  the  guests 
began  to~clamour  for  food. 

"  And  dinner's  been  waiting 

this  hour,"  said  the  host 

cheerfully.  "  FetcbTit,  and  fill 


608 


Heather  Miacture. 


[Nov. 


up.     You   don't   work — that's 
what  makes  you  drink  so." 

Two  men  rose  and  went  out 
at  once.  They  illustrated  be- 
tween them  specimens  of  north 
country  Capital  and  Labour. 
They  looked  much  alike,  they 
dressed  in  much  the  same  way, 
and,  as  Dicky  was  to  discover, 
they  were  about  equally  well- 
read.  A  clatter  of  plates  and 
dishes  from  across  the  hall  a 
moment  later  indicated  that 
they  held  the  ranks  of  butler 
and  parlour-maid  between  them. 
Dicky  wondered  at  the  moment 
which  of  them  held  the  higher 
rank.  He  discovered  later  that 
Capital  did,  possibly  owing  to 
his  reputation  as  a  sound  judge 
of  wine. 

Following  on  what  seemed  to 
go  by  the  local  name  of  "  One- 
sharp,"  and  which  in  this  case 
was  a  strong  gin-and-water, 
Dicky  and  his  host  went  up- 
stairs to  hunt  out  their  slippers 
and  to  wash  for  dinner.  Chap- 
man, having  shown  his  guest 
his  room,  departed  to  his  own. 
Dicky  sat  on  the  bed  and  felt 
in  his  pocket  for  his  pipe.  He 
found  the  pipe,  and  also  found 
a  letter  that  had  arrived  just 
before  he  left  the  Hansard 
house ;  knowing  that  it  was 
from  his  cousin  Ann  at  West- 
leigh,  he  had  decided  its  perusal 
could  be  postponed.  The  pre- 
sent appearing  to  be  a  suitable 
moment,  he  opened  it. 

DEAR  DICKY, — I  do  hope 
you  had  good  shooting,  and 
that  you  are  enjoying  yourself. 
What  are  the  Hansards  like  ? 
We  have  started  some  un- 
official cubbing  now,  and  it 


means  an  awfully  early  start. 
It  gets  so  hot,  too,  before  we 
get  back,  but  it  is  good  for 
the  horses.  Peter  is  simply 
frightfully  fit,  and  has  started 
bucking  again.  He  squeals 
and  plunges  as  soon  as  he  gets 
on  the  grass,  the  big  scoundrel. 
Norah  is  rather  fat,  and  will 
take  longer  to  get  fit,  but  they 
will  be  all  ready  for  you  in  a 
fortnight.  Such  a  bit  of  bad 
luck  !  Father  has  a  horse  we 
got  last  season — a  big  blood 
horse  rather  like  Peter  (but 
with  much  better  manners), 
and  we  were  going  to  put  him 
in  the  Jumping  Competition 
in  the  Show  here  on  the  26th, 
but  he  has  been  kicked  by 
Sally  and  won't  be  right  for 
weeks — right  on  the  hock.  Betty 
Creile  was  going  to  ride  him 
because  her  brother  will  have 
to  be  back  before  then,  and 
she  is  so  miserable.  She  is  my 
greatest  friend,  and  she  says 
she  thinks  she  saw  you  in  the 
train  coming  down.  She  had 
been  up  to  Eendall's  about  the 
shoeing  and  got  out  here.  She 
saw  the  name  on  your  suit- 
case, but  she  said  she  didn't 
talk  to  you.  I  wish  you  were 
able  to  be  back  because  you 
could  ride  your  lovely  Peter  in 
the  Show.  He's  just  fit  for  it. 
I  have  let  Betty  exercise  him, 
as  she  rides  very  well,  but  I 
told  her  you  were  awfully 
particular  who  rode  your  beasts 
and  objected  to  Jumping  Shows, 
and  that  she  must  never  take 
him  over  a  hurdle  even.  There 
is  a  dance  over  at  Garntree  on 
the  21st,  and  we  are  going. 
We  are  so  sunburnt  we  shall 
look  perfectly  awful.  Oh  !  and 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


609 


so    exciting — Mr    Bobins,    the 
grocer,  is  getting  married  again. 

She  is  the " 

Dicky  threw  the  letter  on 
the  bed  and  lit  his  pipe.  The 
conjugal  tangles  of  Westleigh 
village  held  no  interest  for 
him.  After  a  reflective  study 
of  his  appearance  in  the  look- 
ing-glass opposite  he  remem- 
bered that  he  had  not  yet  taken 
off  his  boots.  He  slowly  re- 
moved one,  and  threw  it  across 
the  room.  Then  he  hobbled 
across  to  his  suit-case,  turned 
out  the  contents,  and  found  his 
slippers.  Sitting  on  the  bed 
again,  he  unlaced  the  other 
boot.  Then  he  relit  his  pipe, 
rummaged  among  his  clothes 
in  the  kit-bag,  found  a  fountain- 
pen  and  writing  materials,  and 
sat  down  at  the  dressing-table. 

"  DEAR  ANN, — Am  getting 
fine  shooting.  Shot  rotten  to 
begin  with,  but  got  better. 
Will  be  here  a  few  days  yet. 

"  There  is  no  earthly  reason 
why  your  friend  should  not 
jump  Peter.  I  don't  know  why 
you  told  her  I  objected.  You 
had  only  got  to  ask.  He  ought 
to  be  placed  if  he  doesn't  win. 

"  I  won't  be  back  for  the 
dance,  anyway.  I  wouldn't 
have  gone  if  I  was.  Yours, 

"  DICK. 

"  P.S.— Light  Pelham  and 
no  Martingale." 


He  then  hurriedly  completed 
his  toilet,  and  proceeded  down- 
stairs to  a  repast  which  would 
have  made  Mr  Jorrocks  burst 
into  song.  It  was  not  merely 
Gargantuan  —  it  was  a  Dales 
dinner  for  hungry  Northcoun- 
trymen.  While  he  endeavours 
to  hold  his  own  at  the  board, 
we  will  carry  the  reader  thirty- 
six  hours  forward  and  some 
two  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
south,  landing  him  at  the 
Westleigh  breakfast  table  as 
two  ladies,  the  first  arrivals, 
enter  the  dining-room.  One 
goes  to  the  coffee-urn,  the 
other  picks  up  a  pile  of 
letters. 

"  Here  it  is  —  he's  an- 
swered  " 

"Oh— quick!  What's  the 
verdict  ?  Ann — you  beast — 
hurry " 

"  All  right — he  says  you  can 
— I  knew  he  would." 

"  Let  me  look.  Yes,  you 
were  quite  right.  Oh,  Ann ! 
you  did  it  beautifully  !  " 

"  It's  easy  once  you  know. 
You'd  better  take  Peter  round 
the  course  this  morning.  He 
won't  want  much  schooling — 
only  getting  hard.  We'll  put 
him  on  full  corn  now." 

"  Oh — I'm  all  ready  for  him. 
He'll  be  ready  too.  Can  I  see 
that  letter  again  ?  Ye-e-es — 
I  thought  he  looked  like 
that " 


(To  be  continued.) 


610 


[Nov. 


TALES   OF   THE   E.I.C. 


XIX.   MOUNTAIN   WARFARE. 


THE  movements  of  the  flying 
columns  of  the  I.E. A. — gangs 
of  armed  ruffians,  usually  num- 
bering about  forty,  but  some- 
times more,  sometimes  less, 
and  led  by  men  with  military 
experience  (ex-soldiers  and  even 
ex-officers,  to  their  everlasting 
shame) — have  always  corre- 
sponded accurately  to  the 
amount  of  police  and  military 
pressure  brought  to  bear  on 
them,  which  pressure  has  con- 
tinually fluctuated  in  agree- 
ment to  the  whims  and  brain- 
waves of  the  politicians  in 
power. 

Figuratively  speaking,  these 
same  politicians  have  kept  the 
police  and  military  with  one 
hand  tied  behind  their  back, 
and  sometimes  when  the 
screams  of  the  mob  politicians 
in  the  House  have  been  loudest, 
have  very  nearly  tied  up  both 
their  hands.  If  a  chart  had 
been  kept  during  the  Irish 
war  showing  the  relative  inten- 
sity of  the  politicians'  screams 
and  the  activities  of  the  I.E. A., 
the  reading  of  it  would  be 
highly  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive. 

Extra  pressure,  more  rigid 
enforcement  of  existing  re- 
strictions on  movement,  and 
increased  military  activity  have 
always  resulted  in  a  general 
stampede  of  flying  columns  to 
the  mountains  of  the  West, 
where  the  gunmen  could  rest 


in  comparative  safety,  and 
swagger  about  among  the  simple 
and  ignorant  mountain-folk  to 
their  hearts'  content. 

Here  they  would  stay  until 
the  politicians,  frightened  by 
inspired  questions  in  the  House, 
would  practically  confine  the 
military  and  police  to  barracks. 
The  gunmen  would  then,  with 
great  reluctance,  leave  the 
safety  of  the  mountains,  and 
return  to  the  southern  front, 
to  carry  on  once  more  the 
good  work  of  political  murder. 

And  so  the  game  of  seesaw 
went  on.  Every  time  that  the 
Crown  forces  saw  victory  in 
sight  the  politicians  would  drag 
them  back  again  to  start  all 
afresh.  The  wonder  is  that 
the  Crown  forces  stuck  it  so 
long  with  every  hand  against 
them,  and  their  worst  abuse 
coming  from  a  cowardly  sec- 
tion of  their  own  countrymen 
in  England. 

Early  in  1921  the  Crown 
forces  in  the  South  of  Ireland 
suddenly  gave  forth  signs  that 
a  determined  effort  was  to  be 
made  to  deal  effectively,  once 
and  for  all,  with  the  gangs  of 
armed  murderers  and  robbers 
roaming  the  country,  masquer- 
ading as  soldiers  of  the  Irish 
Eepublic  ;  and  again  the  flying 
columns  fled  in  haste  to  their 
mountain  retreats  in  the  West, 
a  part  of  the  country  where 
the  majority  of  the  inhabitants 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  B.I.  C. 


Oil 


have  always  done  their  best  to 
keep  out  of  the  trouble,  with 
a  few  isolated  exceptions. 

This  time  they  stayed  longer  ; 
in  fact,  each  time  it  became 
harder  to  induce  the  gunmen 
to  forsake  the  peace  of  the 
mountains  for  the  war  in  the 
South.  After  a  time  they 
started  to  vary  the  monotony 
by  carrying  out  punitive  ex- 
peditions against  the  police 
and  the  unfortunate  Loyalists 
in  the  surrounding  lowlands, 
but  always  to  fly  back  to  the 
mountains  at  the  first  sight  of 
a  force  of  police  or  soldiers. 

Ex-soldiers  were  the  chief 
game  at  this  period.  A  dis- 
trict would  be  chosen  where 
there  were  no  troops  and  few 
police.  A  list  of  all  ex-soldiers 
living  in  this  district  would 
be  made  out,  and  guides 
provided  by  the  local  I.E.A. 
commandant.  Each  ex-soldier 
would  be  visited  in  turn  during 
a  night,  given  his  choice  of 
active  service  with  the  I.E.A. 
or  a  sudden  death.  Those  who 
remained  loyal  to  the  King 
would  be  led  out  and  butchered 
like  sheep,  though  possibly  the 
murderers  would  not  take  the 
trouble  to  remove  their  vic- 
tims, but  would  fire  a  volley 
into  them  as  they  lay  in  bed, 
and  leave  them  there.  Truly 
a  brave  army  ! 

Transport  presented  no  diffi- 
culty to  the  gunmen.  The 
British  Government  took  prac- 
tically no  steps  to  control  the 
movements  of  motors,  motor 
bicycles,  or  push-bicycles,  ex- 
cept the  motor-permit  farce, 
which  greatly  inconvenienced 


Loyalists  only.  All  they  had 
to  do  was  to  commandeer  as 
many  cars  or  bicycles  as  they 
wanted,  where,  when,  and  how 
they  liked. 

However,  this  was  not  all 
the  work  which  the  Sinn  Fein 
leaders  intended  their  flying 
columns  to  carry  out,  and  in 
order  to  induce  the  gunmen 
to  return  to  duty  the  usual 
noisy  peace  squeal  was  started 
in  England,  so  that  conditions 
might  be  made  pleasanter  for 
the  gunmen  in  the  South.  The 
murdering  of  ex-soldiers  and 
helpless  Loyalists  could  be  easily 
carried  out  by  local  Volunteers 
under  a  well-seasoned  murderer 
— an  excellent  method  of  initi- 
ating raw  recruits  into  the 
methods  of  the  Sinn  Fein  idea 
of  warfare.  The  British  Gov- 
ernment, always  great  judges 
of  Irish  character,  thought  that 
the  Sinn  Fein  leaders  were 
coming  to  their  senses  at  last, 
took  off  the  pressure,  and  the 
gunmen  duly  returned  to  duty. 

At  length  there  came  a  time 
when  these  columns  really  got 
the  wind  up,  stampeded  to  the 
Western  mountains,  and  this 
time  refused  point-blank  to 
return  to  duty. 

In  the  late  spring  of  1921 
Blake  was  suddenly  called  over 
to  England  on  private  business 
in  London,  and  afterwards  went 
down  to  the  country  to  spend 
a  few  days  with  the  parents  of 
a  man  with  whom  he  had 
served  in  France. 

The  day  after  his  arrival 
Blake's  host  told  him  that  a 
Black  and  Tan,  a  native  of 


612 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Nov. 


the  place,  had  been  murdered 
in  Ireland  a  few  days  previ- 
ously, and  was  to  be  buried 
that  day  in  the  parish  grave- 
yard, and  asked  Blake  if  he 
would  accompany  him  to  the 
funeral. 

When  passing  through  Dublin 
on  his  way  to  England,  Blake 
had  Been  in  the  Castle  the  ac- 
count of  how  this  unfortunate 
Black  and  Tan  had  met  his 
death — shot  in  the  back  when 
walking  in  the  streets  of  a  small 
Western  town  with  a  girl ;  and 
not  content  with  that,  the 
murderers  had  fired  a  volley 
at  him  as  he  lay  wounded  on 
the  ground,  and  even  fired 
several  shots  after  the  girl  as 
she  fled  shrieking  up  the  street. 
So  terrified  were  the  towns- 
people that,  though  there  were 
many  in  the  streets  at  the  time, 
not  one  dared  to  even  approach 
the  dying  constable,  and  it  was 
not  until  a  full  hour  afterwards 
that  a  passing  police  patrol 
found  him  lying  dead  in  a  great 
pool  of  blood.  Incidentally, 
the  murderers  had  by  then 
pnt  sixteen  miles  behind 
them  by  means  of  stolen 
bicycles. 

Blake  accepted,  expecting  to 
see  a  large  funeral  to  do  honour 
to  the  murdered  policeman, 
but  to  his  great  surprise  and 
indignation  found  that  only 
the  near  relations  of  the  mur- 
dered man  were  present. 

Eeturning  from  the  funeral, 
Blake  happened  to  see  the 
local  police  inspector  in  the 
main  street  of  the  little  town, 
and  at  once  tackled  him  about 
the  funeral,  wanting  to  know 


why  the  local  police  had  not 
been  present  as  a  last  mark  of 
respect  to  a  man  who  had  died 
for  his  country. 

The  inspector  seemed  greatly 
surprised  and  rather  taken 
aback,  and  replied  that  he 
could  hardly  be  expected  to 
turn  his  men  out  to  attend  the 
funeral  of  a  murderer. 

For  a  moment  Blake  saw 
red,  and  but  for  a  natural 
horror  of  making  a  scene  in 
a  public  place,  would  probably 
have  knocked  the  inspector 
down.  Then,  thinking  that 
there  must  be  a  bad  blunder 
somewhere,  he  asked  whom 
the  Black  and  Tan  had  mur- 
dered, and  how  he  had  met  his 
death.  The  inspector  admitted 
that  the  Black  and  Tan  had 
been  murdered,  he  believed, 
and  then  opened  out  on  the 
crimes  and  atrocities  which 
the  Black  and  Tans  had  com- 
mitted in  Ireland  —  murder, 
rape,  and  highway  robbery, — 
in  fact,  the  usual  list  of  atroci- 
ties which  is  generally  to  be 
read  in  the  Sinn  Fein  propa- 
ganda pamphlets. 

Blake  waited  patiently  until 
the  inspector  had  given  him  a 
harrowing  picture  of  the  con- 
dition of  the  South  and  West 
of  Ireland :  heartrending  ac- 
counts of  homeless  and  starv- 
ing women  and  children,  old 
and  young  men  and  boys 
hunted  like  wild  beasts  in  the 
mountains  and  living  on  berries 
and  roots  ;  shops  burnt  to  the 
ground  and  looted  by  Black 
and  Tans  in  mufti ;  and  of 
men  and  boys  shot  by  Aux- 
iliaries in  the  dead  of  night 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


613 


before  the  eyes  of  their  rela- 
tions. 

Heathen  asked  the  inspector 
who  had  given  him  this  in- 
formation, adding  that  he  would 
like  to  see  the  proof  of  it,  and 
at  the  same  time  telling  him 
that  he  was  a  D.I.  in  the  E.I.C. 

The  inspector  invited  Blake 
to  go  to  the  police  sta- 
tion with  him,  and  here,  as 
Blake  had  expected,  he  was 
shown  the  usual  lying  propa- 
ganda and  pamphlets  of  Sinn 
Fein,  which  have  been  distri- 
buted by  the  million  through- 
out England,  Scotland,  Wales, 
and  the  U.S.A.  An  extract 
from  one  pamphlet  is  worth 
repeating  : — 

"  Famine  is  about  to  add 
thousands  of  innocent  victims 
to  the  hundreds  of  thousands 
already  in  need  of  the  bare 
necessities  that  keep  body  and 
soul  together.  In  every  Irish 
village  and  town  sickness,  pes- 
tilence, and  death  invade  the 
humble  homes,  striking  swiftly 
and  surely  the  mothers  and 
children  incapable  of  resist- 
ance through  months  of  struggle 
against  cold  and  hunger.  .  .  . 
Children  of  tender  years,  ragged 
and  wretched,  trudge  daily 
through  the  cold  to  a  school 
now  used  for  a  relief  station 
to  obtain  the  one  meal  a  day 
on  which  they  live — a  piece  of 
bread  and  a  warm  drink." 

Seeing  from  his  ribbons  that 
the  man  had  served  in  the  war, 
Blake  asked  him  if  he  would 
take  the  word  of  a  brother  offi- 
cer against  that  of  a  Sinn  Fein 
rebel.  The  inspector  seemed 
to  think  this  a  good  joke,  and 


replied :  "A  brother  officer 
every  time."  "  Well,  then," 
said  Blake,  "as  an  ex-British 
officer,  I  give  you  my  word  of 
honour  that  all  those  pamph- 
lets you  have  just  shown  me 
are  a  pack  of  lies  circulated 
by  Irish  rebels  to  ruin  your 
country." 

Still  the  inspector  was  only 
half  convinced,  and  in  spite 
of  all  Blake  could  say  he  saw 
when  he  at  last  left  that  the 
man's  belief  in  the  printed 
pamphlets  of  Sinn  Fein  was 
still  unshaken.  Such  is  the 
tremendous  effect  of  print, 
whether  newspapers  or  pamph- 
lets, on  the  modern  mind,  and 
the  firm  belief  in  the  old  saying 
that  there  can  be  no  smoke 
without  a  fire. 

That  afternoon  Blake  was 
carried  off  by  his  hostess  to  a 
drawing-room  lecture  at  a  big 
country  -  house.  His  hostess 
was  not  quite  sure  what  the 
lecture  was  about,  but  believed 
it  had  something  to  do  with 
Eussia.  After  tea  the  lecturer 
arose,  and  before  he  uttered 
a  word,  Blake  had  a  premoni- 
tion of  what  was  coming.  A 
tall  thin  man,  with  pronounced 
Celtic  peculiarities  and  a  mane 
of  long,  lank,  black  hair,  Blake 
had  seen  his  prototype  thou- 
sands of  times  in  the  West  of 
Ireland. 

Throwing  back  his  great 
mane  with  a  jerk  of  his 
head,  the  lecturer  started 
on  an  impassioned  recital  of 
the  atrocities  committed  in 
Ireland  by  the  British  Army 
of  Occupation,  practically  the 
same  collection  of  lies  and 


614 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


[Nov. 


wicked  quarter  truths  which 
Blake  had  heard  from  the 
police  inspector  that  morning. 

Blake  watched  the  faces  of 
the  audience  closely,  mostly 
women  of  the  upper  and  middle 
classes,  and  could  see  that  the 
lecturer's  ready  tongue  was 
making  a  deep  impression  on 
them.  There  was  no  yawning 
or  fidgeting,  -and  the  audi- 
ence, many  of  them  with  the 
parted  lips  of  rapt  attention, 
kept  their  eyes  riveted  on  the 
quite  interesting  face  of  the 
wild  man  of  the  West,  camou- 
flaged by  a  London  tailor  to 
harmonise  with  an  English 
drawing-room. 

Blake  let  the  man  have  a 
fair  innings,  and  then  while  he 
was  drinking  a  glass  of  water 
(Blake  felt  like  asking  him  if 
he  would  not  prefer  poteen) 
stood  up  and  said  quietly, 
"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  so 
far  this  lecture  has  been  noth- 
ing but  a  pack  of  lies  from 
beginning  to  end.  The  lec- 
turer is  a  Sinn  Fein  rebel 
camouflaged  as  an  Irish  gentle- 
man, and  I  am  a  D.I.  of  the 
Eoyal  Irish  Constabulary.  Dur- 
ing the  war  I  fought  for  your 
country,  and  the  lecturer  pro- 
bably assisted  the  Boches  in 
every  underhand  and  mean 
way  he  could.  You  can  judge 
for  yourselves  which  of  us  is 
most  probably  telling  the  truth, 
and  nothing  but  the  truth." 

The  wild  man  turned  with  a 
wicked  snarl,  all  signs  of  the 
veneer  gone,  and  his  face  re- 
minded Blake  of  a  cornered 
gunman  he  had  had  to  deal 
with  once  during  a  raid  on  a 


Dublin  lodging  -  house  ;  and 
there  would  probably  have  been 
an  ugly  and  unseemly  scene, 
but  the  owner  of  the  house 
intervened,  and  gently  but 
firmly  led  the  wild  man  out  of 
the  room,  while  Blake  and  his 
friends  left  the  house  at  once. 

On  his  return  Blake  found 
a  cipher  wire  from  his  County 
Inspector  recalling  him  at  once, 
and  going  by  car  to  London 
managed  to  catch  the  Irish 
mail  from  Euston.  All  the 
sleepers  were  engaged,  but  by 
good  luck  he  found  himself  in 
possession  of  a  first  -  class 
compartment. 

While  idly  smoking  a  cigar- 
ette and  meditating  on  the 
extraordinary  amount  of  Sinn 
Fein  propaganda  he  had  met 
with  in  the  course  of  one  short 
day  in  England,  he  noticed  a 
well- dressed  slight  girl  pass  and 
repass  the  glass  door  of  his 
compartment  several  times.  As 
the  mail  pulled  out  of  the 
station  this  girl  pulled  open 
the  sliding-door  from  the  cor- 
ridor and  sat  down  opposite 
Blake,  remarking  that  it  was 
a  grand  evening,  and  thereby 
unconsciously  informing  him 
that  she  was  Irish. 

Suddenly  realising  that  he 
was  smoking,  he  asked  the 
girl,  who  he  could  see  was  un- 
usually pretty  and  quite  young, 
if  she  had  any  objection,  and, 
as  he  had  expected,  she  readily 
entered  into  conversation. 

After  a  time  she  remarked, 
with  a  pretty  engaging  smile, 
that  she  saw  he  had  nothing 
to  read,  and  getting  down  her 
suit-case,  handed  Blake  a  hand- 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


615 


ful  of  the  identical  pamphlets 
he  had  already  seen  that  morn- 
ing in  the  English  country 
police  station.  In  addition, 
there  was  one  fresh  one  on 
"  The  Irish  Issue,"  by  William 
J.  M.  A.  Maloney,  M.D.,  cap- 
tain in  the  British  Army, 
August  1914-August  1916. 

Blake  then  saw  that  his 
original  suspicion  was  correct, 
and  that  he  had  to  deal  with 
that  most  dangerous  of  all 
spies,  Sinn  Fein  or  any  other 
breed — a  pretty  girl. 

By  the  time  Eugby  was 
passed  he  had  heard  the  simple 
life-history  in  a  rural  part  of 
England  of  the  girl,  ending 
with  the  information  that  she 
was  going  to  Dublin  for  three 
months,  and  that  she  was  very 
much  in  dread  after  all  the 
dreadful  happenings  there  she 
had  read  of  in  the  papers,  and 
she  had  never  been  in  Ireland 
before  (all  this  in  a  very  fine 
rich  Dublin  brogue).  And 
Blake  began  to  think  that  he 
must  really  possess  that  most 
priceless  of  assets,  to  look  a 
much  bigger  fool  than  you  are. 

After  the  stop  at  Crewe  the 
girl  again  attacked  him  about 
Dublin,  asking  if  he  lived  in 
lodgings  there,  and,  if  so,  was 
there  a  room  to  let  in  the  same 
house.  A  few  days  previously 
Michael  Collins 's  flat  in  a  cer- 
tain Dublin  street  had  been 
raided  with  satisfactory  results 
to  the  raiders,  and  Blake  gave 
her  this  address,  assuring  her 
that  she  would  here  find  quar- 
ters entirely  suitable  to  her 
requirements.  The  girl  took 
the  hint,  and  the  rest  of  the 


journey  to  Holy  head  was  spent 
in  silence. 

On  the  mail-boat  Blake  saw 
the  girl  once  more,  sitting  with 
a  youthful  officer  of  the  Dublin 
garrison,  and  carrying  on  an 
animated  conversation  with 
their  heads  touching. 

On  arriving  at  Ballybor  Bar- 
racks Blake  found  further  orders 
awaiting  him  from  the  County 
Inspector  to  proceed  at  once 
to  Castleport  with  all  the  men 
and  cars  he  could  spare. 

The  wildest  rumours  were 
afloat  amongst  his  men :  that 
the  I.E.A.  were  going  to  take 
the  field  openly  (this  notable 
achievement  was  reserved  for 
the  Truce)  ;  that  a  large  force 
of  Americans  had  landed  from 
a  yacht  at  Errinane  with  stacks 
of  arms,  and  that  they  were 
raising  and  arming  the  moun- 
tain men  of  that  district  greatly 
against  tbeir  .wish  and  inclina- 
tion, and  that  De  Valera  had 
been  landed  on  the  West  Coast 
from  a  submarine,  was  hiding 
in  the  mountains  of  Ballyrick, 
and  was  at  long  last  going  to 
take  the  field  himself. 

Collecting  every  man  he  could 
spare  and  taking  all  the  trans- 
port except  one  Crossley,  Blake 
set  off  with  a  strong  convoy  of 
police  for  Castleport.  The  men 
were  in  great  heart,  and  eagerly 
looking  forward  to  a  good 
square  fight  in  the  open  with 
the  hitherto  elusive  soldiers  of 
the  I.E.A. 

At  Castleport  they  found  the 
barracks  packed  with  police, 
drawn  in  from  all  the  outlying 
districts;  even  two  large  houses 
adjacent  to  the  barracks  had 


616 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


[Nov. 


had  to  be  commandeered  to 
hold  all  the  men. 
j£,The  County  Inspector  ex- 
plained the  situation,  which  was 
quite  simple.  A  large  force 
of  I.E.A.  flying  columns,  esti- 
mated at  over  a  thousand 
strong,  were  reported  to  have 
refused  to  return  to  the  South, 
and  had  taken  up  permanent 
quarters  in  the  Maryburgh  Pen- 
insula, north-west  of  Errinane, 
and  were  playing  old  puck 
generally  throughout  that  part 
of  the  West.  At  first  these 
flying  columns  had  been  dis- 
tributed all  through  the  moun- 
tains, some  in  the  Ballyrick 
country,  more  in  the  SLieve- 
namoe  Mountains,  and  a  large 
party  to  the  south  of  Castle- 
port  ;  but  owing  to  the  un- 
pleasant attentions  of  Auxiliary 
flying  columns  they  had  gradu- 
ally retired  towards  the  Mary- 
burgh  Peninsula,  where  so  far 
they  had  been  left  unmolested. 

The  gunmen  on  the  Slieve- 
namoe  Mountains  had  had  a 
bad  fright  from  the  very  effi- 
cient company  of  Auxiliaries 
quartered  at  Armagh.  Father 
John  had  done  all  in  his  power 
to  get  rid  of  these  unwelcome 
guests  in  his  parish,  but  show- 
ing a  fine  turn  of  speed  they 
just  managed  to  escape,  actu- 
ally dashing  through  Ballybor 
in  the  middle  of  the  night  in  a 
convoy  of  commandeered  Fords 
a  few  days  before  Blake's 
return. 

For  some  time  the  gunmen 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  com- 
mandeering their  rations  at 
night  from  Castleport,  and  dur- 
ing these  nights  the  town  would 


be  completely  isolated.  The 
first  intimation  of  anything 
being  wrong  which  the  towns- 
people had  was  the  return  one 
night  of  several  white-faced 
crying  girls,  who  told  their 
parents  that  they  had  just 
by  chance  met  Pat  So-and-So, 
and  that  he  had  asked  them  to 
go  for  a  stroll,  and  hardly  had 
they  got  outside  the  town 
when  armed  men  had  seized 
poor  Pateen  and  ordered  the 
girls  to  go  home  at  once.  Inci- 
dentally the  poor  Pateens  were 
kept  as  a  labour  platoon  by 
the  gunmen,  and  made  to  do 
all  the  dirty  work  of  digging 
trenches,  breaking  down 
bridges,  &c.,  which  occurred 
during  the  operations  to  fol- 
low. A  different  butcher,  baker, 
and  grocer  would  be  visited 
each  time,  just  to  show  that 
there  was  no  question  of  fav- 
ouritism with  the  I.E.A. 

While  this  requisitioning  was 
proceeding  every  road  leading 
into  Castleport  was  held  by 
strong  pickets  of  gunmen,  who, 
as  soon  as  the  ration  party 
returned,  would  make  for  the 
Maryburgh  Mountains  on  bi- 
cycles, the  ration  party  travel- 
ling on  a  commandeered  lorry. 

Directly  the  County  Inspec- 
tor got  wind  of  this  proceeding, 
he  made  an  attempt  to  surprise 
the  gunmen  one  night,  but 
their  local  information  was  too 
good,  and  he  failed.  Then, 
hearing  that  this  big  muster 
of  gunmen  was  hiding  in  the 
Maryburgh  Peninsula,  he  col- 
lected all  the  forces  he  could, 
and  prepared  to  kill,  capture, 
or  drive  them  into  the  Atlantic. 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


617 


Soon  after  Blake's  arrival 
at  Castleport,  apparently  re- 
liable information  came  in  that 
a  landing  of  arms  had  been 
carried  out  early  that  morning 
at  Errinane,  and  that  these 
arms  were  to  be  taken  as  soon 
as  it  was  dark  to  the  Mary- 
burgh  Peninsula.  The  County 
Inspector  at  once  detailed  Blake 
and  Black,  the  Castleport  D.I., 
to  take  a  large  force  of  police 
and  attempt  to  seize  the  arms 
before  they  could  be  taken  out 
of  Errinane. 

Errinane  lies  about  twenty- 
one  miles  to  the  south  of  Castle- 
port, on  a  narrow  inland  bay. 
The  road  runs  the  whole  way 
through  wild  mountainous  coun- 
try, though  at  no  point  does 
the  road  run  very  close  to  the 
mountains. 

On  the  way  out  Blake  care- 
fully looked  out  for  any  points 
where  an  ambush  might  be 
carried  out,  and  noticed  that 
there  were  two  bad  spots  :  one 
where  the  road  skirted  the 
edge  of  a  wood  with  a  rocky 
hill  close  on  the  other  side ; 
the  second,  about  eight  miles 
from  Castleport,  where  the  road 
twisted  through  a  ravine  with 
steep  rocky  sides  dotted  with 
bushes,  and  at  one  place  crossed 
a  narrow  high  bridge — an  ideal 
place  for  an  ambush.  Blake 
was  so  much  impressed  with 
this  place  that  he  stopped  the 
cars  and  made  his  men  search 
carefully  the  sides  of  the  ravine, 
but  not  a  sign  of  any  prepara- 
tions for  an  ambush  could  they 
find.  Nor  were  there  any 
trenches  on  the  road. 

After     picketing     Errinane, 


Blake  searched  every  house, 
shop,  store,  and  barn  in  the 
village,  but  not  a  sign  of  arms 
could  be  found,  nor  was  any 
yacht  to  be  seen  in  the  harbour. 

It  was  late  when  they  started 
back  for  Castleport,  and  Blake, 
who  was  suspicious  of  an  am- 
bush at  the  bridge  in  the 
ravine,  which  was  the  nearest 
point  on  the  road  to  the  Mary- 
burgh  country,  ordered  Black 
to  go  ahead  with  two  Crossleys, 
and  to  search  the  ravine  thor- 
oughly, and  then  to  wait  until 
the  rest  of  the  force  caught 
him  up. 

Blake's  party  was  delayed 
by  two  punctures,  and  when 
they  got  near  to  the  ravine 
heavy  firing  suddenly  broke 
out  ahead  of  them.  When 
within  half  a  mile  of  the 
bridge,  they  saw  a  party  of 
men  running  away  from  a  cul- 
vert in  a  dip  of  the  road  ahead 
of  them. 

Luckily,  Blake  was  in  the 
leading  car,  and  ordered  the 
driver  to  pull  up  about  a 
hundred  yards  short  of  the 
culvert,  which,  sure  enough, 
went  up  before  they  had  been 
waiting  two  minutes. 

The  firing  ahead  had  now 
grown  heavier,  and  every  now 
and  then  the  dull  thud  of  a 
bursting  Mills  bomb  could  be 
heard  above  the  racket  of 
musketry.  Eealising  that  Black 
must  be  hard  pressed,  Blake 
divided  his  force  into  two, 
ordered  each  party  to  deploy 
on  one  side  of  the  road  and  at- 
tempt to  outflank  the  ravines. 

When  within  three  hundred 
yards  of  the  bridge  both  parties 


618 


Tales  of  the  E.I.C. 


[Nov. 


came  under  heavy  enfilade  ma- 
chine-gun fire  —  machine-guns 
which  made  a  noise  none  had 
ever  heard  before,  and  were  pro- 
bably American  Thompson  guns, 
— and  they  were  forced  to  take 
the  best  cover  they  could  find 
in  the  open  bog. 

The  machine-gun  fire  at  once 
died  down,  only  to  break  out 
again  every  time  the  police 
attempted  to  advance  by  short 
rushes.  By  painful  degrees 
they  managed  to  get  within 
eighty  yards  of  the  bridge, 
where  the  formation  of  the 
ground  protected  them  from 
that  horrible  enfilade  hail  of 
bullets,  and  gathering  them- 
selves together  they  charged 
at  the  reverse  slope  of  the 
ravine. 

At  once  the  firing  ceased, 
and  when  at  last  they  had  torn 
their  way  through  briars  and 
gorse  to  reach  the  top,  all  that 
they  found  was  small  piles  of 
empty  cartridges  and  two  ordi- 
nary tweed  caps — not  a  sign  of 
a  gunman  whichever  way  they 
looked. 

They  then  turned  their  at- 
tention to  their  comrades  on 
the  road,  and  here  a  heart- 
rending sight  met  their  eyes. 
At  first  it  appeared  as  though 
all  the  occupants  of  the  two 
cars  were  either  dead  or 
wounded,  but  as  they  de- 
scended towards  the  bridge  a 
small  party  of  police  crawled 
from  underneath  it,  soaked  to 
the  skin.  They  found  Black 
lying  against  the  front  wheel 
of  the  leading  car  with  four 
bullet  wounds  in  his  f  body 
and  his  [head  smashed  in  by 


a  dum-dum  bullet  —  stone- 
dead. 

Blake  found  out  from  the 
survivors  that  Black  had  dis- 
regarded his  orders,  and  had 
not  pulled  up  until  the  cars 
had  passed  the  bridge,  when  a 
hail  of  bullets  swept  the  cars 
from  the  top  of  both  banks  of 
the  ravine.  Black  was  wounded 
by  the  first  volley,  was  hit 
twice  while  getting  out  of  the 
car  to  lead  his  men  to  the 
attack,  and  in  the  head  as  his 
foot  touched  the  ground. 

The  sun  had  by  now  gone 
down,  and  collecting  all  his 
wounded  and  dead,  Blake 
pushed  off  for  Castleport  as 
fast  as  he  could. 

Beyond  a  blown-up  culvert 
half  a  mile  from  the  ravine, 
which  the  cars  crossed  without 
difficulty  on  their  own  planks, 
they  met  with  no  further 
trouble. 

Then  followed  three  feverish 
days  of  planning  and  preparing 
for  the  great  drive,  which  it 
was  hoped  would  put  a  thou- 
sand gunmen  out  of  action  for 
good  and  all ;  unless  indeed  a 
new  Chief  Secretary  should 
come  to  Ireland,  perhaps  this 
time  from  Australia  or  possibly 
from  India,  or  even  a  Jew, 
who  would  celebrate  his  arrival 
in  this  unfortunate  country  by 
opening  wide  the  gates  of  the 
internment  camps. 

The  area  to  be  driven  was 
roughly  three  hundred  and 
sixty  square  miles,  which  will 
give  some  idea  of  the  magni- 
tude of  the  task  which  a  hand- 
ful of  police  had  to  tackle  with 
the  aid  of  a  battalion  of  in- 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


619 


fantry  and  a  company  of  Aux- 
iliaries. And  when  it  is  added 
that  the  entire  peninsula  con- 
sisted of  mountains  (five  of 
them  well  over  two  thousand 
feet,  and  unclimbable  in  many 
places),  bogs,  lakes,  and  rivers, 
with  only  one  decent  road 
which  ran  round  the  coast  and 
at  the  base,  it  will  be  granted 
that  the  task  was  nearly  an 
impossible  one. 

Also  the  few  scattered  in- 
habitants would  be  certain  to 
be  found  to  act  as  unwilling 
scouts  for  the  gunmen.  More- 
over, once  the  weather  turned 
wet,  which  may  happen  in  the 
course  of  a  few  hours  on  the 
West  Coast,  a  thick  mist  would 
cover  the  mountains,  and  all 
the  gunmen  had  to  do  then 
was  to  walk  out  of  the  trap 
and  make  their  way  inland. 

The  plan  of  attack  was  as 
follows.  The  Castleport-Erri- 
nane  road  crossed  the  twenty- 
mile  neck  of  the  peninsula, 
and  before  dawn  one  day  ten 
columns,  each  of  eighty  men, 
formed  up  a  mile  apart. 

As  soon  as  it  was  light 
enough  to  gee,  these  columns 
started,  marching  in  columns 
of  route  for  the  first  two  miles  ; 
they  then  deployed  into  open 
order,  got  in  touch  with  each 
other,  and  then  started  to  drive 
the  country  out  of  face  for  the 
remaining  eighteen  miles.  Fre- 
quently the  line  had  to  halt 
while  a  column  would  hunt  a 
mountain  in  its  line  of  advance, 
or  a  detour  round  a  lake  had 
to  be  made. 

For  the  first  four  miles  there 
was  no  sign  of  the  gunmen — 


the  column  only  met  flocks  of 
mountain  sheep,  and  no  sign 
of  a  human  being  ;  but,  when 
ten  miles  from  the  west  end 
of  the  peninsula,  the  troops 
on  both  flanks  came  under 
fire — evidently  an  attempt  to 
stop  them  working  round  be- 
hind the  gunmen. 

The  troops  in  the  centre 
now  tried  to  advance,  but  were 
also  held  up  by  heavy  fire 
before  they  had  gone  half 
a  mile ;  but  at  their  third 
attempt  the  flanks  met  with 
no  opposition,  and  the  whole 
line  was  able  to  continue  the 
advance.  From  now  on  the 
gunmen  offered  a  determined 
resistance  at  every  ridge,  but 
always  retired  before  their  posi- 
tions could  be  turned. 

At  last,  close  on  nightfall, 
the  Crown  forces  came  to 
the  strongest  position  of  all — 
a  long  ridge  in  the  centre  with 
small  hills  at  each  end,  ex- 
tending to  the  north  and  south 
coasts  of  the  peninsula. 

As  there  was  no  time  left 
for  a  turning  movement,  a 
direct  assault  was  tried,  only 
to  fail  twice.  It  was  then 
decided  to  wait  until  the  full 
moon  had  risen,  when  it  would 
be  possible  to  make  a  turning 
movement  along  the  coast. 

Unfortunately  the  sky  be- 
came cloudy,  and  during  the 
whole  night  the  Crown  forces 
were  unable  to  move ;  but  as 
soon  as  the  daylight  came  an- 
other assault  met  with  no 
opposition. 

Once  on  top  of  the  ridge  they 
could  see  the  remainder  of  the 
peninsula  to  the.  west  coast, 


620 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


[Nov. 


and  not  a  sign  of  a  gunman 
anywhere ;  nor  when  they 
searched  every  valley  and  even 
some  sandhills  on  the  coast 
could  they  find  so  much  as  a 
single  gunman. 

The  following  day  word  was 
brought  into  the  barracks  at 
Castleport  that  a  column  of 
gunmen,  thousands  strong,  had 
been  seen  marching  in  column 
of  route  into  the  Ballyrick 
Mountains  from  the  coast ;  but 
how  they  could  have  got  there 
from  the  Maryburgh  Peninsula 
did  not  transpire  for  some 
time. 


Later  it  was  learnt  that  when 
the  Crown  forces  gave  up  the 
attack  on  the  final  ridge  to 
wait  for  the  moon,  the  gunmen 
waited  until  it  was  dark,  when 
they  made  their  way  to  the 
coast.  Here  they  had  col- 
lected every  fishing-boat  to 
be  found.  The  sea  being 
calm,  the  whole  force  managed 
during  the  night  to  cross 
the  bay  to  the  north,  a  dis- 
tance of  fifteen  miles,  landed 
on  the  Ballyrick  coast  soon 
after  dawn,  and  at  once 
set  off  for  the  Ballyrick  Moun- 
tains. 


XX.   THE   GREAT  ROUND   UP. 


At  the  beginning  of  the 
Irish  war,  when  the  I.E.A., 
to  use  its  own  words,  "  took 
the  field  against  the  British 
Army,"  its  activities  were 
purely  local  and  sporadic.  Some 
unfortunate  police  patrols  of 
half  a  dozen  men,  often  less, 
walking  along  the  King's  high- 
way, interfering  with  none  ex- 
cept evil-doers,  would  be  sud- 
denly fired  at  with  shot-guns, 
sometimes  loaded  with  jagged 
slugs  and  pieces  of  metal,  from 
a  safe  cover  behind  a  stone 
wall  with  carefully  -  prepared 
loopholes. 

These  police  patrols  never 
had  a  dog's  chance,  and  should 
have  been  discontinued  long 
before  they  actually  were. 

At  first  the  murderers  did 
not  trouble  to  make  sure  that 
they  had  a  perfectly  safe  line 
of  retreat  behind  them  when 
the  location,  of  these  cowardly 


ambushes  was  chosen,  but  after 
a  few  failures  they  made  no 
mistake  in  future,  the  line  of 
retreat,  either  through  a  thick 
wood  or  down  the  reverse 
slope  of  a  hill,  being  always 
the  first  consideration. 

Married  police  living  in 
houses  or  rooms  in  the  town 
of  their  station  afforded  an 
easy  and  safe  target  for  the 
venom  of  these  hooligan  shop- 
boys  and  farmers'  sons.  At 
first  the  police  used  to  go  home 
unarmed,  and  used  to  be  shot 
down  in  the  back  while  pass- 
ing along  an  ill-lighted  street 
or  lane,  or  the  assassins  would 
knock  at  the  door  of  the 
policeman's  home,  and  if  he 
came  to  the  door  would  fire 
at  him  and  then  run  away. 

Occasionally,  in  districts 
where  the  standard  of  bravery 
was  very  high,  all  the  Volun- 
teers would  collect  in  a  small 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


621 


town  after  dark — always  after 
dark — and  carry  out  an  attack 
on  the  local  police  barracks. 
They  knew  perfectly  well  that 
it  was  impossible  for  the  police 
to  leave  their  barracks  owing 
to  the  smallness  of  their  num- 
bers, and  that  as  long  as  they 
kept  well  under  cover  (which 
they  did)  they  were  just  as 
safe  as  they  would  be  in  their 
own  beds  at  home. 

These  so-called  attacks  on 
police  barracks  simply  con- 
sisted in  gangs  of  hooligans 
first  taking  careful  cover  in 
houses  adjacent  to  the  bar- 
racks, and  then  firing  off  as 
many  rounds  as  they  pos- 
sessed. They  always  ceased 
fire  long  before  daybreak,  in 
order  that  they  might  be  home 
in  good  time  before  it  was 
possible  for  the  police  to  leave 
barracks  or  a  relief  party  to 
arrive  on  the  scene. 

At  this  period  of  the  war, 
raiding  the  houses  of  the  Loyal- 
ists for  arms,  and  incidentally 
for  money  and  valuables,  not 
forgetting  drink,  was  a  much 
safer  and  more  remunerative 
night's  amusement  than  shoot- 
ing policemen  or  attacking  bar- 
racks, though  the  price  then 
was  £60  for  every  policeman 
murdered. 

A  party  of  twenty  to  thirty 
Volunteers,  usually  boys  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  years  of  age, 
would  meet  at  a  fixed  rendez- 
vous some  time  after  dark 
with  all  the  arms  they  could 
raise.  They  would  then  don 
black  cloth  masks,  turn  up 
their  coat  collars,  pull  their 
hats  down,  and  sally  forth  to 


spend  the  night  robbing,  mur- 
dering, and  terrorising  the  un- 
fortunate Loyalists  of  the  dis- 
trict. 

Imagine  the  feelings  of  a 
respectable  old  man  living  in 
a  lonely  house,  who  had  pro- 
bably never  harmed  any  one 
during  his  lifetime,  and  whose 
only  crime  consisted  in  being 
loyal  or  refusing  to  subscribe 
to  the  funds  of  the  I.E.A.,  in 
many  cases  a  form  of  common 
robbery. 

Night  after  night  he  lies  in 
bed  expecting  to  hear  a  loud 
knock  at  the  door,  and  at  last 
it  comes.  He  opens  the  door 
to  find  a  dozen  shot-guns,  old 
rules,  and  pistols  pointed  at 
him.  Some  brute  then  de- 
mands his  arms ;  the  old  man 
says  he  has  none.  They 
push  him  aside  and  force  their 
way  in.  The  old  man  is  made 
to  cit  down  while  two  young 
hounds  keep  prodding  him  in 
the  back  of  the  neck  with  the 
muzzles  of  their  pistols,  to 
remind  him  what  they  could  do 
if  they  liked.  The  remainder 
ransack  the  house  from  top 
to  bottom,  take  away  any 
money  or  valuables  they  can 
find,  and  consume  any  drink 
there  may  be.  If  they  cannot 
find  any  money  or  valuables, 
they  threaten  him  with  death 
until  he  disgorges.  And  lonely 
women  suffered  in  like  fashion. 

The  demand  for  arms  used 
to  be  merely  a  blind  for  com- 
mitting robbery.  The  location 
of  every  firearm  in  a  district 
was  well  known  from  the  be- 
ginning of  the  war. 

If  the  reader  happens  to  bt 


622 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


[Nov. 


an  English  country  gentleman, 
let  him  think  what  it  would 
be  like  never  to  know  the  night 
or  hour  when  he  would  be 
raided  by  a  gang  of  farm 
labourers  or  village  loafers, 
armed  and  masked,  from  the 
nearest  village.  He  might  re- 
tire to  bed  to  be  waked  up 
by  loud  knocking  on  his  front 
door.  If  he  did  not  open 
quickly  a  rifle  shot  would  be 
fired  through  the  lock,  and  if 
the  door  did  not  open  then,  it 
quickly  would  to  the  blows  of 
hatchets  which  would  follow. 
A  wild  gang  of  drunken  brutes 
would  burst  into  his  nice  house, 
smash  desks,  sideboards,  and 
cupboards,  searching  for  loot. 
Lucky  man  if  he  escaped  with 
the  loss  of  arms,  money,  and 
valuables,  and  not  of  home  and 
life  as  well. 

If  the  reader  is  an  ex-soldier, 
let  him  imagine  what  his  feel- 
ings would  be  like  if  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  he  was 
pulled  out  of  his  bed  by  these 
same  ruffians,  and  given  his 
choice  between  joining  Trot- 
sky's Own  Light  Infantry,  or 
whatever  the  local  Eed  force 
may  call  itself,  or  being  shot 
out  of  face.  Being  true  to  his 
country,  he  refuses  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  Bolshev- 
ism, and  is  shot  before  the  eyes 
of  his  agonised  wife. 

Remember  that  the  loyal 
country  gentlemen  and  ex- 
soldiers  of  Ireland  have  sacri- 
ficed their  blood  and  treasure 
on  the  altar  of  Empire  as  well 
as  their  English  cousins,  and 
hence  are  entitled  to  as  much 
protection. 


But  no,  when  it  conies  to  a 
matter  of  politics  and  votes 
they  are  thrown  to  the  wolves, 
to  the  eternal  shame  of  England. 
The  sacrifice  of  the  Southern 
Loyalists  will  form  one  of  the 
most  disgraceful  chapters  in 
the  history  of  England. 

Bobberies  on  a  more  exten- 
sive scale  followed  :  bank  man- 
agers taking  large  sums  of 
money  to  out-of-the-way  vil- 
lages on  the  occasion  of  a  fair, 
in  order  to  facilitate  payments 
by  buyers  to  farmers,  were 
held  up  and  robbed.  Mail-cars 
carrying  pension  money  for  the 
old  and  poor  were  held  up  and 
robbed ;  likewise  post-offices, 
banks,  railway  stations,  and 
large  shops — and  most  of  this 
money  used  to  forward  the 
cause  of  armed  rebellion.  In 
fact,  the  Government  were 
largely  being  fought  with  their 
own  money,  or,  rather,  that  of 
the  helpless  British  taxpayer. 

But  this  form  of  warfare, 
though  most  unpleasant  for 
the  unfortunate  Irish  Loyalist, 
and  probably  disturbing  to  the 
few  people  in  England  who 
knew  anything  about  what  was 
happening  in  Ireland,  would 
never  have  led  to  anything 
provided  the  British  Govern- 
ment had  taken  the  necessary 
steps  quickly  to  preserve  law 
and  order  and  punish  evil- 
doers. But  no,  as  ever  in  Ire- 
land, they  would  do  nothing, 
except  procrastinate,  until  it 
was  too  late. 

Instead  of  strengthening  the 
E.I.C.  and  sending  more  troops 
into  the  country,  they  merely 
evacuated  outlying  police  bar- 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


623 


racks,  which  were  promptly 
burnt  amidst  scenes  of  triumph 
by  the  local  Volunteers,  and 
hailed  by  all  rebels  as  the  first 
outward  sign  of  the  retreat  of 
the  English  from  Ireland. 

If  the  police  released  by  the 
evacuation  of  these  barracks 
had  been  used  to  form  flying 
columns  to  quiet  the  worst 
districts,  there  might  have  been 
some  sense  in  this  manoeuvre ; 
unfortunately,  the  men  were 
all  wanted  to  make  up  the 
wastage  in  the  occupied  bar- 
racks caused  by  the  large  num- 
ber of  resignations  of  young 
constables  in  the  E.I.C.  at  this 
time. 

Looking  back,  these  con- 
stables who  resigned  appear  to 
have  been  mean  deserters  of 
their  comrades,  but  after-events 
have  to  a  certain  degree  justi- 
fied their  action.  They  were 
certain  that,  no  matter  how 
often  the  British  Government 
swore  to  see  its  loyal  servants 
through,  in  the  end  it  would 
let  them  down,  and  the  pity 
is  that  they  were  right.  True, 
there  was  a  day  when  an  Eng- 
lishman's word  was  as  good  as 
his  bond,  but  that  day  appears 
to  be  quite  out  of  date.  Or 
perhaps  it  does  not  apply  to 
politicians  ! 

Doubtless  greatly  surprised 
at  their  initial  success,  the 
chiefs  of  the  I.E.A.  now  deter- 
mined on  a  much  more  ambi- 
tious form  of  warfare — namely, 
the  formation  of  flying  columns 
to  harry  and  murder  the  Crown 
forces  throughout  Ireland,  not 
excepting  Ulster  ;  at  the  same 
time  they  started  a  tremendous 


campaign  of  propaganda  in 
England  and  the  States. 

The  idea  of  breaking  up  the 
British  Empire  by  means  of  a 
number  of  small  flying  columns 
of  corner-boys  in  Ireland,  and 
green  pamphlets  at  John  Bull's 
breakfast-table,  appears  laugh- 
able ;  but  Sinn  Fein  has  shown 
itself  a  wonderfully  astute  judge 
of  the  mentality  of  the  present- 
day  politician  in  England. 

The  summer  of  1920  saw 
the  greater  part  of  the  South 
and  West  in  the  hands  of  the 
Republic,  who  not  only  boasted 
an  army  in  the  field,  but  ran 
their  own  police,  law-courts, 
and  Local  Government  Board. 
It  was  not  an  uncommon  occur- 
rence for  a  man  to  be  first 
arrested  by  the  E.I.C.  for  some 
offence,  and  then  by  the  I.E.A. ; 
sometimes  there  used  to  be 
quite  an  exciting  race  between 
these  two  forces  to  see  who 
could  catch  the  culprit  first. 

The  first  flying  columns  were 
made  up  of  determined  and 
hard-up  corner-boys  collected 
from  every  district  in  the  South 
and  West,  and  were  sent  out 
under  specially  qualified  leaders 
to  murder  as  many  police  and 
soldiers  as  they  could,  no  matter 
whether  they  were  armed  or 
unarmed,  asleep  or  awake.  The 
price  for  the  murder  of  a  police- 
man rose  gradually  to  £60,  and 
eventuaUy  to  £100. 

With  a  terrorised  population 
and  a  Government  which  re- 
fused to  function,  these  columns 
had  everything  in  their  favour, 
and  carried  on  their  campaign 
of  murder  and  assassination 
practically  unhindered  at  first. 


624 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


[Nov. 


Their  chief  channels  of  in- 
formation^were  the  post-office 
and  young  girls.  The  larger 
proportion  of  post-office  officials 
were  openly  disloyal,  post- 
masters even  being  caught  red- 
handed  decoding  important 
police  and  military  wires  for 
the  information  of  the  I.E.A. 
And  young  girls  not  only 
obtained  information  by  walk- 
ing out  with  policemen  and 
soldiers,  but  also  carried  the 
gunmen's  arms  to  and  from  a 
murder  or  ambush. 

It  used  to  be  no  uncommon 
sight  in  Dublin  to  see  a  tram- 
car  held  up  by  Auxiliaries  and 
searched  with  no  result.  Before 
the  Auxiliaries  had  boarded 
the  tram  the  gunmen  would 
openly  pass  their  pistols  to 
girls  sitting  beside  them.  Any 
one  giving  information  would 
never  have  left  that  tram  alive, 
nor  would  it  have  done  any 
good,  as  the  Auxiliaries  were 
powerless  (until  near  the  end 
of  the  war)  to  search  women. 

As  regards  transport,  they 
had  only  to  take  it  where, 
when,  and  how  they  liked — 
motors,  motor  bicycles,  lorries, 
and  push-bicycles  by  the  thou- 
sand in  every  part  of  the 
country.  Think  how  different 
the  result  might  have  been  if 
the  Government  had  taken  up 
all  this  transport  and  reduced 
the  I.E.A.  to  their  flat  feet. 
And,  of  course,  they  used  the 
trains  freely,  and  without  pay- 
ment, both  to  carry  arms  and 
men. 

Young  girls,  especially  if 
pretty,  make  far  the  most 
dangerous  spies  in  the  world  ; 


and  though  they  have  always 
been  used  during  a  war  on  a 
small  scale  by  every  country, 
yet  this  is  probably  the  first 
occasion  on  which  a  nation 
has  conscripted  girls  of  from 
twelve  to  twenty-five  years 
wholesale  for  this  vicious  and 
contaminating  work. 

Even  little  children  were 
taught  the  art  of  eavesdrop- 
ping, and,  of  course,  if  they 
did  not  hear  every  word,  readily 
filled  in  the  blanks  from  their 
imagination.  Many  a  man  in 
Ireland  during  the  last  two 
years  has  lost  his  life  through 
the  medium  of  a  little  child. 
The  Markievicz  woman  ought 
to  appear  on  the  Day  of  Judg- 
ment with  the  record  mill- 
stone round  her  neck. 

Despatches  were  carried  in 
dozens  of  ways — boys  on  bi- 
cycles, men  on  motor  bicycles, 
who  also  acted  as  scouts  for 
ambushes,  in  the  sample  cases 
of  bagmen  (a  common  method 
also  at  one  time  of  sending 
arms  and  ammunition  about 
the  country),  by  the  post, 
and  by  railway  guards — in  fact, 
by  every  method  which  came 
to  hand. 

The  I.E.A.  obtained  much 
valuable  information  through 
opening  letters  in  the  post, 
but  their  really  important  and 
often  vital  information  came 
to  them  through  a  bad  leakage 
in  the  Castle. 

Any  shortage  of  recruits  was 
quickly  made  good  by  a 
drastic  form  of  the  old  press- 
gang.  An  unwilling  recruit 
would  be  dragged  out  of  bed 
in  the  middle  of  the  night, 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I. C. 


625 


placed  against  a  wall,  and 
given  a  minute  to  decide  for 
King  George  or  the  Irish  Ee- 
public.  King  George  meant  a 
bullet  in  the  brain,  probably  a 
dum-dum  of  the  worst  descrip- 
tion ;  the  Irish  Eepublic  meant 
active  service  with  a  flying 
column  at  some  near  future 
date. 

Money  was  obtained  in  just 
as  simple  a  way.  A  levy  of, 
say,  a  pound  a  cow  or  a  pound 
a  beast  would  be  laid  on  a 
district.  A  farmer  had  six 
cows  or  one  horse,  two  asses, 
and  three  head  of  cattle.  In 
either  case  he  would  pay  £6  to 
the  funds  of  the  I.E. A.  Any 
arguing  there  was  would  be 
solely  on  the  side  of  the  col- 
lector, who  would  have  the 
butt-end  of  a  large  pistol  pro- 
truding from  his  pocket.  Such 
a  simple  and  effective  method 
of  collecting  a  tax !  No  trouble- 
some forms  of  beastly  red 
tape,  and  no  large  staff  of  fat 
and  lazy  clerks  to  pay  !  Just 
a  truculent-looking  blackguard 
with  a  very  large  pistol,  not 
necessarily  loaded,  and  the 
money  pours  in.  Cases  of 
non-payment  of  this  form  of 
taxation  have  never  been  heard 
of,  nor  is  there  any  means  of 
dodging  it.  Cattle  are  not  easy 
to  hide. 

Eations  were  obtained  by 
the  simple  process  of  requisi- 
tion. In  some  cases  they  used 
to  go  through  the  farce  of 
giving  a  receipt  for  the  stolen 
goods  in  the  name  of  the 
I.E.A.  ! 

With  the  police  unable  to 
function,  banks  and  post-offices 


offered  an  easy  prey  to  these 
ruffians.  The  meanest  form 
of  robbery  was  the  taking  of 
money  to  pay  old-age  pensions 
from  mail-cars  on  their  way 
to  outlying  districts. 

A  special  murder  gang  was 
formed,  which  went  about  the 
country  to  murder  any  man — 
policeman,  E.M.,  or  civilian — 
who  was  particularly  active  in 
trying  or  helping  to  restore 
law  and  order  in  the  country 
— that  is,  any  man  who  was 
too  tough  a  nut  for  the  locals 
to  crack.  And,  of  course,  in 
many  cases  private  feuds  and 
spites  came  under  this  heading. 
As  has  been  mentioned,  the 
price  for  a  policeman  was 
£100.  People  would  be  heard 
discussing  this  openly,  and  won- 
dering if  the  price  would  go  up 
or  down,  in  the  same  way  as 
they  might  discuss  Dunlop's  or 
Guinness 's  shares. 

But  the  most  effective 
weapon  of  Sinn  Fein  has  been 
their  propaganda  campaign  in 
America  and  England,  coupled 
with  the  treasonable  and 
treacherous  aid  from  certain 
politicians  and  the  effective 
silence  of  the  daily  press,  with 
one  great  and  notable  excep- 
tion. 

The  following  letter,  which 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Crown 
forces  in  Ireland,  speaks  for 
itself  : — 

Bail  Eireaim 
(Department  of  Finance), 

Mansion  House, 
Dublin,  21st  March  1921. 

To  Director  of  Propaganda. 

A  CHARA, — The  enclosed  copy  of 
notes  from  Ireland  will  probably  be 
of  some  interest  to  you.  I  have 


626 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


[Nov. 


previously  sent  some  copies  of  these 
and  other  things  from  the  Unionist 
Alliance  people. 

Many  figures  have  been  given  in 
the  papers  recently  with  regard  to 
E.I.C.  resignations,  dismissals,  re- 
cruitment. All  these  questions  have 
been  asked  on  instructions  from  me, 
and  I  think  you  might  be  able  to  make 
very  good  use  of  some  of  them.  For 
instance,  in  the  10th  March  '  Han- 
sard '  (pages  688  and  689)  are  given 
the  figures  which  appeared  in  the 
'  Independent '  some  days  ago.  In  a 
few  days'  time  we  shall  get  total 
strength  and  total  numbers  recruited 
over  certain  periods. 

I  have  got  an  arrangement  made 
in  London  whereby  the  '  Independent ' 
correspondents  will  always  quote  the 
figures  pretty  fully  for  our  benefit. 
Do  Chara, 

MICHAEL  COLLINS. 


Sinn  Fein  first  learnt  the  art 
of  propaganda  from  those  past- 
masters  the  Boches ;  but  if 
ever  the  latter  think  of  trying 
their  luck  with  another  "  Der 
Tag,"  they  will  find  that  Sinn 
Fein  can  teach  them  now  more 
than  ever  they  taught  Sinn 
Fein.  The  Celtic  mind  seems 
to  be  peculiarly  adapted  and 
susceptible  to  propaganda  con- 
sisting largely  of  half  and  three- 
quarter  lies. 

But  nothing  surprised  and 
dismayed  Irish  Loyalists  more 
than  the  suppression  of  reports 
of  murders  and  outrages  in 
Ireland  in  the  great  majority 
of  English  papers,  though  later 
on  these  same  papers  filled 
columns  with  any  murder  or 
atrocity  alleged  to  have  been 
committed  by  police  or  Aux- 
iliaries. Moreover,  from  their 
tone,  it  soon  became  obvious 
that  some  papers  were  strongly 
pro-Sinn  Fein. 

To  an  Irishman  the  English 


Eadical  has  always  been  one 
of  the  greatest  wonders  and 
mysteries  of  this  world ;  and 
often  he  cannot  help  asking 
why  God  has  sent  him  into 
this  world.  Of  course,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  all  are  here 
for  some  purpose,  good  or  bad, 
but  of  what  use  is  the  Eadical 
to  England  ? 

Is  he  the  wee  drop  of  poison 
in  the  whole  which  is  to  bring 
about  the  downfall  of  the 
Empire  as  a  punishment  for 
the  sins  of  its  leaders  ?  At  any 
rate,  he  has  always  been  a 
puzzle  and  enigma  to  Irish 
and  French  alike,  and  they 
have  no  use  for  a  man  whose 
chief  idea  of  patriotism  ap- 
pears to  be  to  take  any  and 
every  side  against  his  own 
country. 

There  is  no  possible  doubt 
that  the  Government  were  forced 
or  frightened,  by  the  howls  of 
the  Eadicals,  incited  by  Sinn 
Fein  propaganda,  to  order  that 
reprisals  by  the  Crown  forces 
in  Ireland  should  cease,  where- 
by the  Crown  forces'  most  effec- 
tive weapon  was  taken  from 
them,  though  it  was  still  left 
in  the  hands  of  the  murder 
gang. 

Fierce  were  the  denounce- 
ments by  the  Eadicals  in  the 
House  of  the  unfortunate  Irish 
police  ;  but  one  waited  in  vain 
for  a  like  denouncement  of  the 
murder  gang  (men  who  have 
committed  as  bad  atrocities  as 
the  world  has  seen)  by  these 
same  unctuous  gentlemen.  Ye 
hypocrites  ! 

Much  has  been  said  and 
written  (chiefly  propaganda) 


1921.] 


Tales  ofiheR.I.C. 


627 


about  the  wickedness  of  re- 
prisals, but  it  is  better  first  to 
examine  the  situation  before 
condemning  them. 

It  must  be  clearly  under- 
stood that  the  whole  power  of 
the  murder  gang  lay  in  re- 
prisals :  they  took  reprisals 
against  every  one  who  was 
against  them  by  murder,  arson, 
and  intimidation.  The  Crown 
forces  had  only  the  law,  which 
was  paralysed.  No  one  dared 
give  evidence ;  it  was  death 
to  do  so. 

Under  these  circumstances 
the  Crown  forces,  principally 
the  E.I.C.,  took  counter-repri- 
sals ;  this  was  the  only  pos- 
sible method  by  which  they 
could  save  their  own  lives  and 
the  lives  and  property  of  the 
Loyalists,  who  looked  to  them 
for  protection. 

For  many  weary  months  un- 
happy Ireland  was  rent  and 
torn  by  this  form  of  warfare, 
and  it  became  obvious  to  most 
that  if  one  side  did  not  win 
pretty  soon  the  country  would 
be  ruined.  Twice  the  Crown 
forces  wriggled  their  hands  free, 
and  on  both  occasions  had  the 
I.E. A.  on  the  verge  of  collapse  : 
one  stout  blow  would  have 
finished  the  show.  And  each 
time  the  I.E. A.  were  saved  by 
the  screams  of  their  English 
allies.  Each  time  the  Govern- 
ment quickly  took  fright,  quick- 
ly tied  the  Crown  forces'  right 
hands,  and  even  ^threatened 
to  tie  up  their  legs  if  they 
set  the  English  Eadicals  on 
the  howl  again.  And  once  more 
the  I.E.A.  plucked  up  courage, 
and  the  old  weary  game  of 


ambush    and    murder    started 
afresh. 

At  long  last  the  Government 
took  a  sudden  notion  to  make 
a  desperate  effort  to  finish  off 
the  gunmen  before  the  gunmen 
finished  them. 

After  the  failure  to  round 
up  the  big  force  of  gunmen  in 
the  Maryburgh  Peninsula,  Blake 
returned  at  once  to  Ballybor 
with  all  his  men,  arriving  to 
find  a  cipher  wire  from  the 
County  Inspector  to  tell  him 
that  the  gunmen  had  turned 
up  in  the  Ballyrick  Mountains, 
and  that  as  soon  as  the  Crown 
forces  could  be  regrouped  an- 
other effort  would  be  made  to 
come  to  grips  with  these  slip- 
pery customers. 

No  sooner  had  Blake  started 
to  deal  with  a  fearful  accumu- 
lation of  official  correspondence 
than  the  head  constable  told 
him  that  Constable  John 
M'Hugh,  who  came  from  the 
east  centre  of  Ireland  and  had 
not  been  long  in  the  force, 
wished  to  see  him — adding  that 
M'Hugh's  father  had  been  mur- 
dered, and  that  the  constable 
was  most  anxious  to  go  home, 
but  that  the  police  at  his  home 
had  wired  that  it  was  not  safe 
for  the  man  to  go. 

Blake  saw  M'Hugh  at  once, 
and  found  him  in  a  pitiable 
state  of  grief,  the  first  great 
sorrow  of  his  young  life — but 
had  to  refuse  his  request, 
though  the  boy  pleaded  hard, 
with  the  tears  running  down 
his  cheeks.  M'Hugh's  case  is 
a  good  example  of  the  murder 
gang's  reprisals  on  those  who 
will  not  fall  in  with  their  views. 


628 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


[Nov. 


Old  M'Hugh  was  a  widower 
living  with  his  two  sons  near 
a  large  town  on  the  East  Coast. 
Unfortunately  John  was  an 
nn willing  witness  of  the  first 
murders  of  British  officers  in 
Ireland  during  the  present  re- 
bellion, and  in  order  to  save 
the  lives  of  his  sons  old  M'Hugh 
got  them  into  the  E.I.C.  as 
soon  as  he  could. 

On  several  occasions  old 
M'Hugh  was  threatened  by  the 
I.E.A.  that  if  he  did  not  make 
his  sons  resign  they  would  do 
for  him :  every  time  he  re- 
fused, and  told  his  sons  nothing 
about  being  threatened.  Fin- 
ally, the  usual  pack  of  masked 
fiends  went  to  the  old  man's 
cottage  in  the  dead  of  night, 
and  murdered  him  by  the  re- 
fined process  of  dragging  him 
out  of  bed  and  kicking  him  on 
the  head  until  they  smashed 
his  skull  in — a  deed  hard  to 
beat  for  pure  brutal  savagery. 

The  following  day  Blake  re- 
ceived a  long  visit  from  the 
County  Inspector,  who  gave 
him  the  outline  of  the  new  plan 
of  campaign,  and  instructions 
for  the  part  Blake  and  his  men 
were  to  take. 

The  country  of  the  Ballyrick 
Mountains  is  a  square-shaped 
peninsula  of,  roughly,  fourteen 
hundred  square  miles,  consist- 
ing of  vast  flats  of  bogs  on  the 
north,  west,  and  east,  inter- 
cepted by  hills,  while  the  south 
part  consists  of  nothing  but 
mountains.  One  main  road 
runs  through  the  centre,  east 
and  west,  and  another  skirts 
the  coast  for  three- quarters  of 
the  north  coast,  then  turns 


inland,  crosses  the  other  road 
at  about  the  centre  of  the 
peninsula  at  the  village  of 
Ballyscadden,  then  continues 
due  south  until  it  reaches  the 
coast.  In  the  whole  peninsula 
there  are  only  half  a  dozen 
small  villages,  all  not  less  than 
sixteen  miles  apart. 

To  drive  this  huge  country 
would  require  at  least  twenty 
times  as  many  troops  as  were 
available,  and  A.S.C.  train  to 
keep  them  supplied  with  ra- 
tions ;  there  remained  the  pos- 
sibility of  starving  the  gunmen 
into  surrender. 

All  the  villages  were  to  be 
occupied  by  military,  and  every 
road  picketed  and  blocked  with 
barbed  wire  ;  at  the  same  time 
the  military  were  to  endeavour 
to  form  a  cordon  across  the 
neck  of  the  peninsula,  a  dis- 
tance of  thirty-five  miles. 

The  police,  who  were  to  do 
the  actual  hunting,  were  divided 
into  flying  columns,  with  all 
available  transport.  The  Navy 
was  to  be  responsible  for  the 
numerous  islands  on  the  west 
and  south  coasts,  and  were  to 
open  fire  on  any  parties  of 
gunmen  who  came  within  the 
range  of  their  vision  and  guns. 

Aeroplanes  were  to  work 
continuously  over  the  country 
during  daylight,  and  on  locat- 
ing the  enemy,  were  to  drop 
their  messages  at  the  police 
headquarters  at  Ballyscadden. 

It  was  expected  that  at  the 
first  sign  of  danger  the  gunmen 
would  make  for  the  mountains 
in  the  South,  when  the  area 
of  operations  would  be  greatly 
restricted. 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  G. 


629 


When  all  preparations  were 
completed  a  start  was  to  be 
made  as  soon  as  there  seemed 
a  reasonable  prospect  of  fine 
weather.  Finally,  at  Blake's 
suggestion,  they  tried  to  collect 
every  flock  of  mountain  sheep 
and  confine  them  to  the  flat 
country  to  the  north,  but 
after  the  first  day  many  of 
the  sheep  returned  to  their 
own  mountains  in  spite  of  the 
efforts  of  the  shepherds. 

Blake's  part  was  to  keep  all 
his  available  men  at  head- 
quarters, ready  to  dash  off  at 
a  moment's  notice  on  receipt 
of  information  of  the  location 
of  any  party  of  gunmen. 

Owing  to  a  bad  westerly 
storm  operations  had  to  be 
postponed  for  a  few  days, 
during  which  time  the  gunmen 
were  left  undisturbed. 

As  had  been  expected,  they 
drew  a  blank  in  the  flat  coun- 
try, though  it  was  reported  by 
the  first  'plane  up  that  a  large 
party  of  cyclists  had  been 
spotted  making  their  way  south 
from  Ballyscadden  some  time 
before  the  police  occupied  that 
village. 

The  weather  then  turned 
very  fine,  and  as  there  was  a 
full  moon,  it  was  decided  to  sit 
tight  for  a  few  days  in  order 
to  see  whether  starvation  would 
force  the  gunmen  to  attempt  a 
break  through. 

For  two  days  the  aeroplanes 
had  nothing  to  report  except 
the  movements  of  small  parties 
of  not  more  than  six  men,  and 
always  in  the  mountains  to 
the  south.  On  the  third  a 
'plane  dropped  theexcitingnews 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCCLXXm. 


that  a  big  column,  estimated 
at  several  hundred  men,  was 
marching  south-west  with  an 
advance  of  scouts  to  a  depth 
of  two  miles. 

Blake  at  once  turned  out 
his  men,  and  made  off  south 
at  full  speed.  At  the  same  time 
a  column  left  Castleport  to 
make  its  way  up  the  coast  road 
and  intercept  the  gunmen  be- 
fore they  could  debouch  from 
the  mountains  —  their  orders 
being  to  advance  up  a  valley 
from  the  coast  to  a  shooting- 
lodge,  which  was  situated  at 
the  junction  of  three  valleys, 
two  of  which  lead  north-east 
and  south-west  round  the  foot 
of  Falcon  Mountain.  Here 
they  were  to  wait  while  Blake 
endeavoured  to  drive  the  gun- 
men down  the  north-east  valley 
towards  them. 

For  twenty -four  hours  Blake 
kept  up  a  running  fight  with 
the  gunmen  in  the  mountains, 
always  trying  to  head  them 
towards  the  valley  which  leads 
to  the  foot  of  Falcon  Mountain, 
and  at  last,  when  his  men 
could  hardly  move,  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  the  gun- 
men making  for  the  valley. 

The  police  followed  slowly 
and  painfully,  to  find  not  a 
sign  of  a  human  being  at  the 
shooting-lodge.  The  men  flung 
themselves  down  in  the  heather, 
beat  to  the  world,  and  some 
of  them  even  burst  into  tears 
of  rage. 

The  explanation  came  after- 
wards. The  Castleport  party 
received  orders  to  proceed  up 
the  valley  from  the  sea,  and 
intercept  the  gunmen  at  a 
2  A 


630 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  C. 


[Nov. 


shooting-lodge.  Unfortunately 
there  were  two  lodges — one  on 
the  shore  of  a  lake  about  half- 
way up  the  valley  from  the 
sea,  and  the  second  and  right 
one  at  the  junction  of  the 
three  valleys.  Naturally  the 
Castleport  party,  none  of  whom 
had  been  in  these  mountains 
before,  stopped  at  the  first 
lodge  they  came  to  on  the 
shore  of  the  lake. 

A  thick  mist  came  up  off 
the  sea  that  night,  and  the 
gunmen,  who  had  taken  refuge 
on  the  upper  rocky  slopes  of 
Falcon  Mountain,  slipped 
through  the  cordon  in  the 
mist  in  twos  and  threes,  com- 
mandeered bicycles,  and  so 
made  good  their  escape. 

Some  time  afterwards,  being 
again  very  hard  pressed,  large 
parties  of  gunmen  took  up 
their  quarters  in  the  Ballyrick 
Mountains,  and  lay  low.  Grad- 
ually their  numbers  increased, 
until  it  was  reported  that  the 
mountains  carried  as  many 
gunmen  as  sheep. 

At  this  time  the  Govern- 
ment appeared  to  have  at  last 
realised  that  the  only  way  to 
restore  order  in  Ireland  was  to 
oppose  force  by  superior  force. 
Many  people  could  have  given 
them  this  information  months 
previously. 

A  report  went  through  Ire- 
land that  the  Government  was 


massing  artillery  at  Holyhead 
to  mow  down  the  I.E. A.  with 
their  brutal  high  explosives  and 
shrapnel.  In  reality  what  hap- 
pened was  that  all  batteries 
in  England  were  turned  into 
mounted  infantry,  only  about 
twenty-five  men  being  left  with 
a  battery,  and  concentrated 
at  Holyhead,  preparatory  to 
crossing  to  Ireland. 

To  Blake's  joy,  the  Ballyrick 
country  was  chosen  as  the 
first  scene  of  what  was  fondly 
supposed  would  be  the  end  of 
the  rebellion. 

Quickly  20,000  troops  were 
massed  across  the  neck  of  the 
Ballyrick  Peninsula  with  every 
available  Auxiliary  and  a  large 
force  of  E.I.C.,  while  a  naval 
force  was  standing  by  off  the 
coast  ready  to  land  sailors  and 
marines.  All  that  was  wanted 
was  a  good  weather  forecast 
to  start  in,  and  put  an  end  to 
this  great  mob  of  gunmen — 
the  curse  of  modern  Ireland. 

The  good  weather  forecast 
came  along  all  right,  and  on 
the  morrow  they  were  to  get 
a  move  on  and  put  an  end  to 
this  miserable  breed  of  cow- 
ardly warfare. 

But  on  the  morrow,  instead 
of  the  Advance,  they  heard 
the  Stand  Fast  sounded,  and 
to  their  dismay  learnt  that  a 
truce  had  been  proclaimed — a 
truce  with  murderers,  forsooth ! 


XXI.    THE   TRUCE. 


Blake  had  been  educated  keynote  to  an  Englishman's 
at  a  big  English  public  school,  life  is  straightness.  Further, 
where  he  had  learnt  that  the  in  the  British  Army  he  had 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  E.I.  C. 


631 


found  that  all  good  Britishers 
try  their  level  best  to  run 
straight. 

Early  in  1921  there  had  been 
a  strong  rumour  in  the  E.I.C. 
that  the  British  Government 
had  come  to  secret  terms  with 
Sinn  Fein,  and  that  after  a 
period  of  window-dressing  a 
truce  would  be  declared  ;  then 
would  follow  a  lot  of  talk,  and 
the  terms  of  settlement  would 
emerge.  It  was  even  reported 
that  a  conference  had  been 
held  in  Norway  of  representa- 
tives of  the  British  Govern- 
ment and  Sinn  Fein,  and  also 
a  representative  from  each  of 
the  Dominions,  and  a  settle- 
ment arrived  at. 

At  the  time  the  Prime  Min- 
ister fired  off  one  of  his  loudest 
and  most  daring  defiances  at 
Sinn  Fein :  that  he  would 
never  give  in  nor  would  he 
ever  treat  with  the  murder 
gang  in  Ireland,  that  the  Crown 
forces  in  that  country  would 
be  supported  by  all  the  re- 
sources of  the  Empire,  and  so 
on  ad  nauseam.  And  this,  as 
Blake  heard  a  cynic  remark, 
was  a  sign  that  the  sinister 
rumour  was  most  likely  true. 

Blake  had  dismissed  the 
idea  with  a  laugh,  but  when 
the  truce  bomb  burst  his  mind 
at  once  flew  back  to  the 
secret  settlement  rumour,  now 
months  old,  and  he  began 
to  suspect  with  a  horrible  fear 
that  they  had  been  sold,  and 
badly  sold. 

Naturally  the  first  effects 
on  the  police  were  bad.  The 
older  men  who  had  been  let 
down  before  laughed  and  cried 


to  each  other,  "  Sold  again  !  " 
but  the  younger  ones,  who  had 
yet  to  learn  the  ways  of  poli- 
ticians, took  the  matter  to 
heart,  and  started  to  brood 
over  it. 

There  were  several  questions 
to  which  they  badly  wanted 
an  answer;  the  chief  being,  if 
there  was  to  be  this  complete 
surrender,  why  had  it  not  been 
made  long  ago,  when  the 
lives  of  many  of  their  relations 
and  pals  in  the  Army  and 
E.I.C.  might  have  been  saved, 
not  to  mention  the  lives  of 
many  Loyalists  ?  These  valu- 
able lives  had  been  freely  given 
in  order  that  Ireland  should 
be  freed  from  the  murderous 
plague  of  gunmen,  in  the  same 
way  as  during  the  late  war  the 
lives  of  the  Empire's  best  were 
sacrificed  in  order  that  we 
should  be  freed  from  the  mur- 
derous plague  of  the  Boches. 

Further,  they  wanted  to  know 
what  terms  had  been  made  with 
regard  to  their  comrades  who 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  I.E. A. 

The  Loyalists  were  staggered, 
knowing  that  their  worst  fears 
would  now  be  realised;  to  be 
handed  over  to  the  murder 
gang,  which  was  the  reward 
the  cynics  in  the  Dublin  clubs 
had  always  prophesied,  would 
be  England's  return  for  the 
efforts  of  the  Loyalists  during 
the  war.  However,  they  could 
say  nothing  and  do  nothing, 
but  simply  make  the  best  of 
their  fate. 

The  neutrals,  most  of  whom 
had  changed  their  flag  as  often 
as  the  British  Government  had 


632 


Tales  of  the  R.I.  G. 


[Nov. 


changed  its  mind,  now,  of 
course,  openly  threw  in  their 
lot  with  Sinn  Fein. 

The  townspeople  and  farmers 
openly  rejoiced  at  the  prospect 
of  even  a  temporary  peace, 
though  in  their  hearts  many 
of  them  knew  that  there  could 
be  no  real  peace  in  Ireland 
until  the  gunmen  had  been 
wiped  out  or  reduced  to  a  state 
of  impotence  by  disarming 
them.  However,  the  future 
could  take  care  of  itself  as 
far  as  they  were  concerned. 

For  the  first  few  days  of  the 
Truce  the  Sinn  Feiners  appeared 
to  be  doubtful  whether  their 
wonderful  good  luck  could  be 
really  true,  and  consequently 
lay  low.  Then  men  and  boys 
who  had  been  on  the  run 
for  many  moons  returned  to 
Ballybor,  and  gave  an  exhi- 
bition of  "See  the  Conquering 
Hero  Comes "  in  the  streets 
daily ;  among  them  men  wanted 
badly  for  atrocious  murders, 
who  now  snapped  their  fingers 
openly  in  the  faces  of  the 
police.  A  policeman  could 
not  walk  the  streets  of  Bally- 
bor without  meeting  these 
swaggering  fellows,  who  openly 
laughed  and  jeered  at  them 
when  they  passed. 

However,  a  considerable  num- 
ber did  not  return,  and  on  their 
relations  inquiring  about  their 
whereabouts  from  the  I.E. A. 
liaison  officer,  they  were  told 
they  never  would  come  back. 

Gradually,  being  sure  they 
were  indeed  safe,  and  that 
in  truth  they  had  the  British 
Government  on  the  run  instead 
of  being  on  the  run  themselves, 


they  grew  bolder  and  more 
insolent. 

One  brute  went  up  to  the 
sentry  outside  the  police  bar- 
racks and  deliberately  spat  on 
him,  hoping  no  doubt  that  the 
constable  would  lose  his  temper 
and  break  the  truce.  The  con- 
stable stepped  into  the  bar- 
racks and  returned  at  once  with 
the  Sinn  Fein  flag,  with  which 
he  carefully  wiped  the  offending 
stains  off  his  face  and  tunic 
under  the  nose  of  the  aston- 
ished gunman.  He  then  pro- 
ceeded to  stand  on  the  flag  in 
the  mud,  and  asked  the  gun- 
man, "  What  about  it  ?  "  For 
some  seconds  the  gunman  stood 
irresolute,  then  turned  and 
walked  off,  looking  a  complete 
ass,  followed  by  the  loud 
laughter  of  the  police. 

From  now  the  Eepublicans 
proceeded  to  take  over  the 
government  of  the  district,  the 
police  standing  by  helpless, 
bound  hand  and  foot  by  the 
strict  order  that  on  no  account 
were  they  to  disturb  the  peace 
atmosphere.  How  the  Boches 
must  be  laughing  at  us  ! 

In  every  parish  Eepublican 
Courts  were  advertised  to  be 
held  in  the  local  papers,  and 
were  held  without  let  or  hin- 
drance, the  advertisements  stat- 
ing that  "  Summons,  &c.,  can 

be  had  on  application  to , 

Clerk  of  the  Court."  And  why 
not!  Had  not  the  I.E.A. 
beaten  Lloyd  George  to  his 
knees,  and  was  not  the  British 
Government  on  the  run  ? 

To  give  the  comical  touch 
necessary  in  Ireland,  the  E.M. 
continued  to  receive  instruc- 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  E.I.  C. 


633 


tions  from  the  Castle  to  attend 
the  various  Petty  Sessions 
Courts  in  every  district  and 
deal  out  the  British  version  of 
the  law.  Probably  the  first 
time  (and  please  God  the  last) 
that  any  part  of  Great  Britain 
and  Ireland  has  been  governed 
by  two  sets  of  laws  at  the  same 
time. 

With  regard  to  this  disgrace- 
ful state  of  affairs  one  particu- 
lar case  will  give  a  good  illus- 
tration of  how  low  British  law 
has  fallen  in  the  West  of  Ire- 
land. 

A  very  decent  man  called 
O'Brien,  who  had  been  a  herd 
to  the  Congested  Districts 
Board,  bought  a  farm  from 
the  Board  with  three  other 
men,  the  farm  being  divided 
into  four. 

This  did  not  suit  the  land- 
less members  of  the  Transport 
Union  in  the  district,  whose 
idea  was  that  they  should  have 
the  land  without  paying  for 
it.  They  told  O'Brien  to  get 
out,  but  he  refused  ;  they  then 
proceeded  to  smash  the  fences 
and  drive  and  injure  his  cattle. 
O'Brien  built  up  the  fences 
and  put  his  cattle  back. 

They  next  proceeded  to  beat 
O'Brien,  who  afterwards  went 
into  Ballybor  but  returned  with- 
out taking  any  action,  as  they 
told  him  there  that  there  was 
now  no  law  in  the  country. 
That  night  they  beat  him 
again ;  the  process  consisted 
of  first  holding  him  while  a 
powerful  man  closed  his  eyes 
with  repeated  blows  of  his 
fists,  and  then  they  hammered 
him  to  their  heart's  content 


and  left  him  in  the  road  for 
dead. 

Hours  afterwards  O'Brien 
crawled  home  on  his  hands 
and  knees — he  was  practically 
blinded,  and  appears  to  have 
found  his  way  home  by  instinct, 
— and  some  days  afterwards, 
when  he  had  recovered  a  little, 
he  went  to  the  police  in  Bally- 
bor. 

A  magistrate  happened  to 
be  at  the  barracks  at  the  time, 
and  insisted  that  steps  should 
be  taken  to  protect  O'Brien 
and  punish  the  savages  who 
had  beaten  him,  though  the 
police  told  him  that  they  were 
afraid  that  it  was  quite  useless 
to  try. 

However,  the  magistrate  took 
O'Brien's  information,  the  case 
came  on  week  after  week  at 
the  Ballybor  Petty  Sessions, 
always  to  be  adjourned  at  the 
request  of  the  police,  waiting 
instruction  from  the  Castle. 
At  last  O'Brien,  in  despair, 
took  his  case  to  the  local  Sinn 
Fein  Court ;  and  here  the  chief 
offender  was  fined  £27  and  the 
others  large  sums,  and  they 
were  warned  that  if  they  inter- 
fered with  O'Brien  again  they 
would  be  dealt  with  very 
severely. 

And  this  is  a  good  example 
of  how  British  law  protects  a 
decent  citizen  in  Ireland  at  the 
present  time  ;  but  one  forgets 
that  the  peace  atmosphere  must 
not  be  disturbed  at  all  costs  ! 
But  is  there  any  wonder  that 
the  people  are  fast  leaving  the 
King's  Courts  for  those  of  Sinn 
Fein,  and  of  their  own  free  will 
now? 


634 


Tales  of  the  B.I.  C. 


[Nov. 


Eepublican  Local  Govern- 
ment inspectors  appeared  in 
every  district,  and  quickly 
ousted  the  King's  inspectors  ; 
held  courts  of  inquiry  on  un- 
fortunate road  surveyors  who 
had  refused  to  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance  to  Bail  Eireann, 
and  tried  to  sack  loyal  dis- 
dispensary  doctors. 

The  chief  amusement  of  the 
local  gunmen  on  leave,  and  of 
their  friends,  male  and  female, 
was  now  to  spend  their  time 
joy-riding  through  the  country- 
side, flying  Sinn  Fein  flags  on 
their  commandeered  lorries  and 
suiging  the  "  Soldier's  Song  " 
whenever  they  passed  any 
police  or  a  barracks. 

One  expedition  of  this  kind 
went  out  to  Ballyrick  on  a 
Sunday  and  returned  to  Bally- 
bor  about  midnight.  Blake 
happened  to  be  passing  down 
the  main  street  at  the  time, 
and  encountered  a  party  of 
drunken  bank  clerks  trying  to 
see  how  much  row  they  could 
make. 

Blake  remonstrated  with 
them,  and  told  them  that  if 
they  did  not  go  home  quietly 
he  would  have  them  arrested. 
One  clerk  at  once  started  to 
sing  the  "  Soldier's  Song  "  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  and  an- 
other shouted  at  Blake  in  an 
insolent  voice,  "  What  about 

the  truce,  Mr  B ,  D.I.  t  " 

Blake  saw  red — he  had  borne 
and  suffered  much  for  many 
days, — and  he  gave  the  bank 
clerk  a  full  drive  on  the  chin 
which  sent  him  flying.  The 
whole  party  then  swiftly  re- 
treated in  silence. 


The  following  day  Blake  paid 
a  visit  to  the  bank,  and  said 
to  the  clerk  he  had  ousted  the 
previous  night,  "  Look  here, 
Mr  Bank  Clerk,  don't  think  I 
hit  you  last  night  because  you 
were  drunk.  There's  a  fine 
open  yard  at  the  back  of  the 
barracks,  and  if  you  will  come 
round  now,  we  can  fight  it 
out."  Abject  apologies  from 
Mr  Bank  Clerk,  and  Blake  left 
the  bank. 

One  morning  a  woman  arrived 
at  the  barracks  in  a  state  of 
great  distress  and  asked  to 
see  the  D.I.  She  told  Blake 
that  she  lived  in  a  small  house 
in  Cloonalla,  which  she  rented 
from  another  woman  in  the 
village.  Twice  her  landlady 
had  tried  in  a  British  court  to 
evict  her,  and  had  failed.  The 
landlady  then  applied  to  the 
local  I.B.A.,  who  promptly 
turned  the  unfortunate  woman 
with  all  her  furniture  and  be- 
longings into  the  street,  and 
there  she  remained.  When  she 
remonstrated  with  them  they 
showed  her  a  warrant  signed 
by  the  village  Sinn  Fein  magis- 
trate and  left  her. 

Blake  at  once  applied  to  the 
County  Inspector  for  instruc- 
tions, who  applied  to  the  higher 
authorities.  Back  came  the 
answer,  "  See  circular  so-and- 
so,"  which  on  being  turned  up 
stated  that  all  breaches  of  the 
Truce  should  be  at  once  re- 
ported. Meanwhile  the  woman 
remained  homeless  :  neighbours 
in  an  Irish  village  nowadays 
fight  shy  of  an  I.E. A.  victim, 
and  circulars  are  not  substi- 
tutes for  roofs. 


1921.] 


Tales  of  the  R.I.C. 


635 


Again  Blake  tried  to  get 
leave  to  take  action,  and  this 
time  the  answer  was  to  forward 
four  copies  of  the  case  to  the 
police  adviser  in  Scotland.  In 
despair  he  put  his  pride  in  his 
pocket  and  applied  to  the 
I.E. A.  liaison  officer  of  the 
district  for  help. 

And  the  next  day  the  liaison 
officer  arrived  in  Ballybor — 
an  ex-soldier  and  a  well-known 
murderer.  Blake  felt  that  he 
could  hardly  stand  this  final 
insult  to  an  honourable  uni- 
form ;  but  duty  is  duty,  and  a 
truce  must  be  kept. 

The  liaison  officer  went^out 
in  a  car  to  Cloonalla^and 
ordered  the  local  braves  to 
put  the  woman  and  her  furni- 
ture back  in  her  house,  which 
they  flatly  refused  to  do.  And 
that  was  the  end  of  the  matter. 

After  some  weeks'  rest  the 
chiefs  of  the  I.E. A.  issued  an 
order  calling  all  men  to  the 
colours,  whether  they  liked  it 
or  not. 

It  has  been  mentioned  that 
the  country  round  Ballybor 
was  famous  for  its  excellent 
shooting,  grouse,  snipe,  wood- 
cock, duck,  and  geese  chiefly ; 
and  in  the  days  before  the 
rebellion  many  Englishmen 
must  have  spent  happy  times 
shooting  and  fishing  in  the 
many  shooting-lodges  dotted 
about  on  the  mountains  and 
moors  to  the  east  and  west  of 
Ballybor. 

Now  all  these  lodges  are 
occupied  by  instructors  of  the 
I.E.A.,  who  take  so  many  of 
the  young  men  and  boys  of 
the  district  in  relays  for  an 


eight  days'  intensive  training 
course — drilling,  musketry,  in- 
struction in  the  use  of  Lewis 
and  Thompson  machine-guns, 
bombing,  and  twenty-five-mile 
route-marches  in  full  fighting 
order,  the  latter  most  un- 
popular. 

Not  only  have  all  old  mem- 
bers of  the  I.E.A.  to  attend 
these  courses,  but  every  young 
man  and  boy,  who  had  pre- 
viously refused  to  join  up,  have 
to  go  ;  and  there  is  no  refusing 
to  go  now. 

You  may  miss  your  garden- 
boy  or  shop-assistant,  to  meet 
him  in  the  course  of  the  week 
taking  part  in  a  route-march ; 
or  if  you  are  foolishly  inquisi- 
tive, you  may  see  him  at  dawn 
advancing  across  your  demesne 
in  company  with  other  boys,  or 
firing  his  musketry  course. 

Blake  watched  two  lorry- 
loads  of  these  recruits  setting 
off  on  a  Monday  morning  from 
the  main  street  of  Ballybor 
under  his  very  nose,  Sinn  Fein 
flags  flying ;  and  they  sang 
the  "  Soldier's  Song  "  for  his 
special  benefit. 

About  two  miles  from  Bally- 
bor there  lives  a  retired  officer 
in  a  nice  house  with  a  good 
demesne,  a  man  who  served 
the  Empire  well  and  truly  for 
many  years.  When  the  war 
was  over  he  retired,  fondly 
hoping  to  spend  the  remainder 
of  his  days  in  peace  and  com- 
fort in  his  old  family  home. 

But  not  so  :  he  happened  to 
be  the  owner  of  a  demesne 
which  the  Transport  Union 
had  promised  to  its  members. 
So  they  tried  repeatedly  to 


636 


Tales  of  the  E.I.  G. 


[Nov. 


stampede  him  out  of  the  coun- 
try, but  that  failed.  Now  his 
place  is  occupied  by  what  the 
I.E. A.  call  a  week-end  camp 
for  the  drilling  and  instruction 
of  theBallybor  shop-boys.  They 
use  his  cooking  utensils,  burn 
his  turf,  and  make  the  night 
hideous  with  their  yells  and 
oaths,  so  that  the  officer  and 
his  family  find  it  impossible 
to  get  any  rest.  Moreover, 
they,  the  I.E.A.,  do  not  appear 
to  be  strong  in  sanitary  sec- 
tions. And  they  told  him 
that  if  he  took  any  action 
they  would  burn  his  place  to 
the  ground. 

What  action  could  he  take  ? 
There  is  no  law  in  the  country 
except  the  law  of  the  pistol. 
The  police  are  now  bound 
hand  and  foot.  They  report 
these  outrages  to  the  Castle, 
and  what  happens  f  Nothing. 
The  Government  are  far  too 
busy  hunting  for  that  elusive 
formula  which  is  to  turn  this 
Irish  hell  into  a  paradise,  to 
worry  about  a  stupid  old 
retired  officer.  He  has  no 
vote  in  England,  nor  can 
he  ever  affect  their  political 
careers. 

And  why  all  these  feverish 
military  preparations  ?  Either 
to  invade  Ulster  when  the 
time  of  a  settlement  and  peace 
comes,  or,  if  the  Truce  is 
broken,  to  massacre  the  E.I.O. 
and  the  Loyalists. 

About  this  time  a  constable, 
transferred  from  the  south- 
west to  Ballybor,  brought  with 
him  a  story — he  swore  it  was 
true — which  will  take  a  queer 
lot  of  formulae  to  explain 


away.  Not  long  ago  the  I.E. A. 
ran  a  cargo  of  arms  on  the 
coast  where  he  was  stationed, 
openly,  with  the  police  looking 
on.  The  police  at  once  re- 
ported the  affair,  and  were 
told  that  it  did  not  matter 
as  the  arms  would  never  be 
used. 

Presumably  the  authorities 
meant  that  these  arms  would 
not  be  used  against  the  Crown 
forces ;  but  what  about  loyal 
Ulster,  and  those  most  unfor- 
tunate of  people  to-day  in 
Europe,  outside  of  Eussia,  the 
Southern  Irish  Loyalists  ? 

Apparently  the  I.E. A.  chiefs 
are  believers  in  games  for 
their  men,  as  witness  the  follow- 
ing advertisement  which  ap- 
peared in  the  Ballybor  shop 
windows  : — 

GEEAT 
FOOTBALL   MATCH. 


NORTH  BALLYRICK  FLYING 
COLUMN,  I.R.A. 

v. 
BALLYBOR  PATRICK1TES. 


PAY  YOUR   SHILLING  AND 

SEE      HOW      WE       ENJOY 

THE   TRUCE. 

The  Transport  Union  un- 
wittingly supplied  the  comical 
element  of  the  situation  when 
they  started  a  great  row  with 
the  I.E. A.  people  in  Ballybor. 
It  appeared  that  the  I.E.A. 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  not 
paying  the  Union  rate  of  wages 
to  the  stalwarts  of  the  Trans- 
port Union  for  digging  trenches 
across  roads  and  breaking  down 


1921.] 


Tales  oftheR.I.C. 


637 


bridges  during  the  war,  and 
now  they  were  furious  because 
the  I.E. A.  refused  to  pay  up 
the  difference,  and  threatened 
them  with  all  sorts  of  horrible 
things.  And  the  I.E. A.  laughed 
at  them. 

People  in  England  have  not 
the  remotest  conception  of  the 
terrible  Frankenstein  monster 
which  De  Valera  &  Co.  have 
reared  up  and  armed  in  Ire- 
land, a  hideous  monster  of 
murderous  and  armed  gun- 
men, fearing  neither  God  nor 
man,  which  in  the  summer  of 
1921  was  on  the  point  of  being 
exterminated  by  British  bayo- 
nets to  make  this  beautiful 
island  of  Ireland  once  more  a 
clean  and  wholesome  land, 
where  men  might  dwell  in 
peace. 

That  chance  has  gone.  Will 
it  ever  occur  again  f  And  if 
it  does  will  the  British  Govern- 
ment seize  their  opportunity 
like  men  and  rid  Ireland  of 
this  terrible  menace  f  Or  will 
they  again  be  found  wanting, 
groping  after  some  wretched 
formula  ? 

Do  people  realise  why  De 
Valera  acts  the  part  of  the  coy 
fly  in  hesitating  to  enter  Mr 
Lloyd  George's  talking  par- 
lour ?  The  sinister  reason  is 
that  if  he  once  gives  up  his 
claim  to  an  Irish  Eepublic  he 
seals  his  own  doom.  The  day 
he  enters  into  a  conference 
with  the  British  Government 
on  these  conditions,  the  Irish 
Eepublican  Brotherhood  signs 
his  death  warrant,  and  well  he 
knows  it. 

But  if,  for  argument's  sake, 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXXin. 


a  so-called  settlement  is  arrived 
at,  what  becomes  of  De  Valera's 
Frankenstein  monster  ? 

Will  it  beat  its  automatics 
into  reaping-hooks  and  con- 
vert its  machine  -  guns  into 
potato-sprayers  ?  Possibly  in 
the  minds  of  English  Eadicals, 
but  nowhere  else. 

And  when  the  Welshman 
and  the  Mexican  have  fooled 
the  English  and  the  Southern 
Irish  with  a  formula,  do  they 
think  that  any  formula  ever 
phrased  would  fool  Ulster  ? 

On  the  day  that  an  Irish 
Eepublic  is  set  up  (Dominion 
Home  Eule  is  only  another 
name  for  it),  Sinn  Fein,  its 
raison  d'etre  accomplished,  dies  ; 
but  out  of  its  corpse  will  arise 
two  parties,  or  rather  armies 
(for  all  men  in  Ireland  are 
armed  to-day  except  the  Loyal- 
ists), one  consisting  of  the 
farmer  shopkeeper  class,  while 
the  other  will  be  the  Citizen 
Army  of  the  Bolshevist  Labour 
Party. 

The  rank  and  file  of  the 
I.E.A.  consists  of  farmers'  sons, 
young  townsmen,  shop  assist- 
ants, and  the  like  ;  they  expect 
either  a  fat  pension  for  life  or 
twenty  acres  of  land.  Both 
have  been  freely  promised  to 
them,  and  both  are  equally 
impossible. 

And  these  disgruntled  gun- 
men, all  armed,  will  take  sides 
according  to  their  sympathies, 
and  before  many  months  are 
past  these  forces  will  be  at  each 
other's  throats.  And  the  na- 
tional air  of  Ireland  will  be  the 
"  Eed  Flag." 

Like  Kerensky  in  Eussia,  De 
2  A  2 


638 


Tales  oftheEJ.C. 


[Nov. 


Valera  will  disappear  in  the 
welter  of  revolution. 

The  E.I.C.  will  have  vanished 
— they  have  already  been  told 
that  when  the  "  Cease  fire " 
sounds,  they  will  be  given  a 
month  to  clear  out  of  Ireland, 
lock,  stock,  and  barrel. 

The  surrender  to  Sinn  Fein 
by  the  British  Government  is 
a  good  example  of  the  evil 
which  can  be  brought  about  by 
that  modern  plague,  skilful  and 
unscrupulous  propaganda. 

The  sooner  the  good  elements 
in  England  wake  up  and  com- 
bine to  insist  that  the  neces- 
sary action  is  taken  in  Ireland 
to  enforce  law  and  order,  the 
better  it  will  be  for  both  coun- 
tries and  the  Empire. 

The  English  people  have  been 


fooled  by  a  press  which  care- 
fully suppressed  all  news  of  the 
true  state  of  affairs  in  Ireland, 
and  then  gave  lying  and  dis- 
torted accounts. 

It  is  futile  to  say  that  the 
remedy  for  false  reports  lies 
with  the  law.  All  honest  men 
know  that  a  clever  lawyer  in 
a  court  of  law  can  make  a 
half  or  three-quarter  black  lie 
appear  a  whole  truth  white  as 
driven  snow,  as  easily  as  a 
smart  and  up-to-date  account- 
ant can  juggle  with  a  balance- 
sheet  to  show  +  or  -  half  a 
million  as  the  necessity  arises. 

The  day  will  come  in  Ireland 
when  men  will  pray  to  God 
for  a  sight  of  the  good  old  green 
uniform  of  the  E.I.C.  And  it 
will  be  too  late. 


1921.] 


639 


GBEEN  HILLS. 


I. 


THEY  appeared  early  one 
morning  in  the  south-west, 
very  faint  and  so  like  clouds 
that  I  had  to  get  out  the 
telescope.  There  had  been 
something  about  them,  even 
to  the  naked  eye,  not  quite 
cloud-like,  and  the  telescope 
showed  them  to  be  hills.  They 
had  elected  to  come  out  of  a 
retirement  which  had  lasted 
several  months,  and  from  that 
day  forward  appeared  when 
the  weather  suited  them,  and 
disappeared  when  it  didn't. 
We  struck  up  a  nodding  ac- 
quaintance, and  this  developed 
later  into  a  friendship.  Cer- 
tainly they  were  very  inviting 
— but  then  all  distant  hills 
are  that  in  a  general  way — 
and  I  am  shy  of  general  in- 
vitations. So  many  of  these 
cool,  blue,  misty,  hilly  invita- 
tions have  I  accepted,  only  to 
find  on  arrival  something  akin 
to  ashes,  cinders,  dust.  But 
the  more  I  gazed  on  these 
hills,  the  stronger  their  lure. 
I  found  in  a  good  atlas  that 
they  were  about  sixty  miles 
distant.  I  learnt  that  they 
were  sparsely  inhabited  by  a 
species  of  my  countrymen  who 
grew  tea  and  coffee,  but  who 
kept  a  discreet  silence  about 
the  game  that  abounded  there, 
game  on  virgin  ground,  seldom 
now  to  be  met  with  in  India. 
Eumour  added  that  the  plant- 
ers were  a  jealous  people, 


jealous  in  the  strictly  Mosaic 
sense,  and  that  they  com- 
manded all  approaches  to  their 
game  country  with  extreme 
watchfulness,  and  admitted 
no  man  outside  the  planter 
species. 

Enough  said.  One  morning 
— a  crystal-clear  one — the  hills 
stood  out  so  plain  that  the 
cliffs  and  scars  on  their  invit- 
ing foreheads  could  be  seen 
without  the  aid  of  telescope. 
I  had  known  them  now  a 
matter  of  some  months,  and 
I  said  I  would  go. 

The  next  thing  was  to  get 
an  introduction  to  one  of  the 
jealous  people.  Chance  threw 
this  in  my  way.  I  found  him 
no  whit  jealous,  only  hospitable 
and  helpful.  He  was  a  large 
man,  much  tanned,  wearing  a 
coat  and  trousers,  but  with  a 
distinct  flavour  of  shirt-sleeves 
and  shorts  about  him.  One 
of  the  old  class  of  planters, 
a  pioneer — one  of  the  first  to 
penetrate  those  delectable  hills, 
and  carve  out  his  tea  estate 
from  the  virgin  forest,  very 
remote  and  very  lonely.  Then 
others  came,  and  tea  companies 
arose,  and  more  forests  were 
cleared,  and  bungalows  ap- 
peared here  and  there,  and 
roads  came,  and  motors  were 
invented.  And  another  kind 
of  planter  came — not  quite  of 
the  same  class  as  the  pioneer 
class,  for  the  best  blood  gene- 


640 


Green  Hills. 


[Nov. 


rally  goes  first  in  these  matters. 
My  friend  had  seen  it  all  from 
the  very  beginning,  and  now 
was  thinking  of  clearing  out. 
He  showed  me  a  little  plot  of 
ground  later  on,  near  where 
his  two-storied  house  now  is, 
where  in  a  tent  he  had  lived 
so  long  alone  in  the  old  days. 
He  told  me  none  of  these  things 
— they  came  out  in  casual  talk ; 
and  the  little  plot  of  ground 
where  the  tent  had  been  was 
introduced  and  dismissed  with 
scarcely  more  than  a  wave  of 
the  hand  in  a  couple  of  sen- 
tences. The  other  kind  of 
man  might  have  sentimental- 
ised and  not  told  me  half  as 
much. 

He  did  tell  me  something 
about  certain  game  I  should 
see  (always  with  the  proviso 
"  if  the  clouds  are  not  down  "). 
I  am  sorry  to  confess  that  I 
took  this  information  with  some 
salt.  Too  often  had  I  been 
the  victim  of  enthusiasts,  who 
forgot  that  what  they  were 
telling  me  I  should  see  in  a 
given  place  was  really  what 
they  had  seen  in  a  score  or  so 
of  years  and  in  many  places. 

My  planter  friend,  however, 
had  understated  things  rather 
than  overstated  them.  I  saw 
all  he  said  I  should  see,  and 
more. 

On  the  hills  where  I  was 
living  when  I  first  saw  the 
Green  Hills — I  call  them  green 
because  when  I  got  to  them 
they  were  quite  the  greenest 
things  I  had  ever  seen — the 
rain  falls  in  a  very  generous 
fashion  from  about  May  to 
January.  Somewhere  about 


October,  and  for  about  ten 
glorious  days,  it  lets  up.  The 
wind  takes  a  breather,  and 
then  back  it  all  comes  again 
from  the  opposite  quarter — 
clouds,  winds,  and  rain  till  the 
end  of  December  or  early  Janu- 
ary. If  you  want  to  go  any- 
where or  see  anything,  you 
must  choose  that  period  of 
ten  days.  The  trouble  is  that 
the  weather  does  not  work  to 
a  time-table,  and  the  "  break 
in  the  rains,"  as  it  is  called, 
may  come  early  in  October, 
half-way  through  the  month,  or 
right  at  its  end.  Sometimes 
it  never  comes  at  all. 

My  friend  insisted  that  when 
I  came  I  must  hit  off  the 
"  break,"  otherwise  the  Green 
Hills  would  be  swaddled  in 
cloud,  nothing  could  be  shot 
because  nothing  could  be  seen, 
and  to  be  caught  out  in  the 
clouds  was  dangerous. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
to  make  a  shot  at  it.  So  about 
mid-October,  when  there  were 
signs  of  a  break,  I  packed  off 
my  servant  and  kit,  and  a  few 
days  later,  on  a  cloudless  morn- 
ing, I  started.  In  a  bee-line 
I  had  about  sixty  miles  to  go 
— first  of  all  6000  feet  down 
from  my  own  hill-tops,  then  a 
great  flatness  of  forty  miles, 
and  then  5000  feet  up  the  side 
of  the  Green  Hills  to  the 
perch  where  dwelt  my  host. 
Within  an  hour  of  start- 
ing we  had  passed  from  an 
almost  English  climate  to 
steamy  tropics,  and  had  shot 
out  into  the  apparently  bound- 
less plains.  Due  south  we 
went,  and  right  across  our 


1921.] 


Green  Hills. 


641 


course,  although  to-day  in- 
visible, lay  the  great  barrier 
of  the  Green  Hills.  It  was  not 
till  we  were  fifteen  miles  from 
them  that  they  grew  unwill- 
ingly into  view,  at  first  just  a 
hint  of  hills  without  an  outline, 
then  an  outline  without  details, 
then  details — chiefly  rather  sor- 
rowful ones — precipices,  gullies, 
scars,  and  slopes,  all  gushing 
water.  The  clouds  were  down 
on  the  hill-tops  to  within  about 
4000  feet  of  their  base,  and 
there  ceased  abruptly  and  in  a 
perfectly  straight-ruled  line. 

A  poor  welcome,  quotha, 
after  so  warm  and  repeated  an 
invitation.  Still,  we  drove 
ahead  along  the  plain  which 
ran  merrily  on  till  suddenly, 
without  the  usual  foothills  or 
easier  slopes,  it  met  those 
seemingly  perpendicular  hill- 
sides where  our  horizontal  plane 
was  to  be  exchanged  for  a 
vertical  one.  The  closer  we 
approached,  the  more  burning 
my  curiosity  as  to  how  a  car 
would  find  its  way  up.  My 
driver,  however,  had  done  it 
often  before,  and  the  most 
that  he  would  say  was  that 
"  it  wanted  a  little  driving." 
It  did. 

Nothing,  however,  is  so  com- 
pletely camouflaged  as  ground 
by  ground.  And  ground,  not 
actual  precipice,  is  never  so 
steep  as  it  looks  from  a  dis- 
tance. Crest-line  merges  into 
the  slope  from  a  higher  crest- 
line  and  is  lost.  Spur  loses  itself 
against  the  slopes  of  a  greater 
spur  behind  it,  and  the  valley 
or  ravine  between  them  is 
unguessed.  You  may  sail  with- 


in a  short  mile  of  many  a  little 
harbour  in  the  English  Channel 
and  wonder  where  the  crabbers 
will  get  to  if  it  comes  on  to 
blow.  But  the  harbour  is  there 
completely  camouflaged.  Pol- 
perro  on  the  Cornish  coast  is  a 
good  example. 

Presently,  just  as  I  was  at 
my  wits'  end,  we  opened  a 
ravine,  and  the  road  popped 
into  it  and  continued  up  it. 
But  it  was  a  dead-end:  a  real 
steep-as-a-house  hillside  blocked 
it.  Engineers,  however,  are  not 
dead-ended  so  easily.  With  an 
amazing  series  of  zigzags  the 
road  patterned  the  whole  of 
that,  in  some  places,  quite 
vertical  hillside.  My  companion 
warmed  a  little  over  this,  and 
when  we  were  about  half-way 
up  the  zigzags  and  were  water- 
ing the  car,  he  told  me  to 
count  how  many  roads  I  could 
see  above  me  and  how  many 
below.  There  were  six  of  each. 
Then  we  ran  into  the  cloud-line, 
and  there  was  no  need  of  water. 
We  were  now  on  the  forest-clad 
knees  of  the  Green  Hills,  which 
were  completely  wrapped  in 
cloud  and  invisible  far  above 
us.  We  lurched  along  over  a 
very  pot-holey  road,  between 
two  walls  of  forest,  amidst 
swirls  of  mist  and  a  steady 
downpour  of  rain.  There  was 
a  momentary  view  of  two 
startled  elephants  at  a  clearing 
on  the  roadside,  the  attend- 
ants with  a  puny  restraining 
hand  laid  on  the  trunk  of 
each.  Then  the  cloud  swal- 
lowed them  and  they  were 
gone.  Yet  the  picture  of  those 
startled  misty  forms  and  the 


642 


Green  Hills. 


[Nov. 


tiny  human  beings  restraining 
them  remains.  Elephants  are 
used  to  haul  the  timber  down 
the  steep  slopes  on  to  the  roads. 
Each  log  has  a  neat  hole  cut 
in  it  with  the  axe  ;  through 
this  passes  a  rope  or  chain, 
and  the  elephant,  passing  a 
tusk  into  a  bight  of  this,  mani- 
pulates the  log  over  slopes  and 
obstacles  unpassable  to  any 
other  form  of  traction.  How 
these  wonderful  beasts  avoid 
being  overrun  by  logs  on  the 
steepest  gradients  I  do  not 
know.  The  elephant  is  a  saga- 
cious as  well  as  a  willing  and 
powerful  servant  to  man,  and 
this  aphorism  is  my  only  ex- 
planation of  the  matter. 

A  group  of  road-mending 
coolies  signalled  to  the  car  to 
stop.  They  presented  one  of 
their  number  as  having  been 
bitten  by  a  snake.  "  Please 
cure  him,"  was  the  simple 
and  child-like  request.  My 
driver  said,  "  Jump  up,"  and, 
adding  that  it  was  "  only  a 
green  viper  and  probably  not 
that,"  drove  away  with  the 
patient  squatting  on  the  step. 
He  was  decanted  at  a  tributary 
road  a  mile  or  two  farther  on, 
and  told  to  "  run  to  Brown 


Sahib's  "  and  get  cured.  This 
he  did  cheerfully  enough,  and 
disappeared  into  the  mist  at  a 
trot,  which  gave  small  evidence 
of  an  envenomed  system.  I 
met  him  a  few  days  later  fully 
cured  (if  cure  there  had  been) 
by  knife  and  permanganate  of 
potash. 

"  There's  a  wonderful  view 
at  the  next  turning,"  said  my 
driver  ;  but  he  was  reckoning 
without  the  cloud,  and  at  the 
turning  indicated  there  was  a 
view  of  exactly  three  cars' 
lengths,  if  that. 

In  failing  light  and  driving 
rain  we  bumped  steadily  along. 
Through  less  jungle  and  more 
tea  and  coffee  ;  turned  off  the 
main  road,  and  as  darkness 
fell,  drew  up  apparently  at 
nowhere ;  but  a  shed  emerged 
from  the  gloom  and  several 
attendants  with  lights,  and  in 
two  minutes  we  had  passed 
from  the  wind  and  the  rain 
and  the  darkness  into  the 
pleasing  warmth  of  a  draw- 
ing-room and  a  log  fire, 
and  eke  a  well-garnished  tea- 
table. 

This  was  the  end  of  stage 
one  of  my  journey  to  the  Green 
Hills. 


n. 

Tea  and  coffee  grow  at  cer-  fixed  himself  at  an  altitude  of 
tain  altitudes,  which  again  vary  between  3000  and  5000  feet, 
with  the  latitudes  of  the  region,  and  carved  with  immense  lab- 
Here  at  about  half-way  up  the  our  and  terrible  squandering  of 
shaggy  flanks  of  these  hills  (a  valuable  timber  a  great  zone 
comparative  term  used  in  India  on  the  hillsides.  You  can't 
where  mountains  run  to  near  grow  tea  in  virgin  forest,  and 
30,000  feet)  the  planter  has  if  you  awaited  operations  by 


1921.] 


Green  Hills. 


643 


the  Forest  Department  before 
planting  tea,  you  would  seldom 
plant  it  at  all.  Down  comes  a 
whole  hillside  of  great  forest 
trees,  as  much  of  them  is 
burnt  as  fire  will  consume,  and 
time  is  left  to  do  the  rest.  Tea 
is  planted  amongst  the  pros- 
trate timber.  The  appearance 
of  ground  thus  treated  is  un- 
speakably desolate  until  all 
vestige  of  timber  has  gone,  and 
nothing  but  the  green  of  the 
neat  cushiony  tea-bushes  re- 
main. Then  there  is  an  air  of 
method  and  neatness,  which  is 
a  substitute  for  the  devil-may- 
care  grandeur  of  untouched 
primeval  forest. 

But  much  timber  is  required 
in  the  manufacture  of  tea.  To 
plant  the  latter  you  must  re- 
move the  former,  and  the  more 
acres  of  tea  you  add,  the  farther 
will  your  timber  be  from  your 
tea  factory,  until  at  last  there 
is  no  more  timber,  or  it  is 
situated  at  a  prohibitive  dis- 
tance. And  this  in  steep  coun- 
try where  roads  are  few  and 
bad  is  not  very  far  off.  So  the 
thrifty  planter,  as  he  clears  the 
forest,  plants  in  its  marshy 
treeless  bottoms,  where  tea  will 
not  grow,  certain  trees  that 
thrive  in  the  wet  soil,  and 
will  provide  him  with  fuel 
later  on. 

The  great  question  that  night 
was,  "  Will  Nunjun  turn  up  ?  " 
The  steady  drumming  of  the 
rain  rather  pointed  to  this 
truly  great  man  preferring  the 
shelter  of  his  hut  in  the  warmer 
drier  foot-hills  2000  feet  below 
us.  Nunjun  was  my  host's 
tracker.  A  word  wafted  down 


the  hill  would  bring  him  up 
to  hunt  with  a  master  he 
knew  and  trusted,  but  a 
stranger  was  quite  another  mat- 
ter. What  cared  Nunjun  for 
strangers  ?  Therefore  Nunjun's 
coming  was  doubtful. 

Next  day  I  shifted  to  an- 
other planter's  bungalow.  The 
weather  cleared.  The  Green 
Hills  tossed  their  round  heads 
clear  of  dripping  forest  and 
wreathing  cloud,  and  stood 
out  4000  feet  above  us  against 
a  clear  blue  sky.  On  a  green 
Alp  far  up,  a  black  speck 
moved.  It  was  a  bison.  Four 
miles  away  perhaps.  In  the 
afternoon  to  the  Cinchona  nur- 
sery. I  have  a  hazy  recollec- 
tion that  the  Java  seed  here, 
being  cherished  to  maturity, 
cost  several  hundred  golden 
sovereigns  per  pound  weight, 
and  that  a  pound  weight  of  seed 
covers  several  acres  of  ground. 
Then  to  view  the  remains — 
fortunately  bones  only — of  a 
trespassing  elephant.  Only 
when  trespassing  on  tea-gardens 
may  elephants  be  shot.  I  was 
told  that  for  some  months 
after  his  decease,  the  neigh- 
bourhood had  not  been  very 
pleasant.  I  could  easily  believe 
it.  Then  a  look  at  Carda- 
mums,  a  jungle  product,  but 
very  responsive  to  a  little 
care  and  clearance  of  choking 
vegetation.  The  sausage-loving 
Hun,  unless  he  invented  a  sub- 
stitute, must  have  missed  our 
Cardamums,  and  I  hope  does 
so  still.  Then  to  some  coffee, 
not  always  being  harvested 
like  tea,  but  having  a  fixed 
annual  harvest.  Very  comely 


644 


Green  Hills. 


[Nov. 


bushes,  like  large  shiny  green 
umbrellas,  decked  in  their 
season  with  crimson  berries, 
like  cherries,  and  I  believe 
called  cherries.  At  sundown 
to  the  tea-house.  Here  the 
day's  takings  of  green  tea-leaf 
grew  under  basket-load  after 
basket-load  to  7000  Ibs.,  picked 
mainly  by  women,  who  do 
great  and  marvellous  things 
on  the  piece-work  system.  On 
entering  a  tea-house  one  must 
drop  all  pettifogging  habits  of 
thinking  of  tea  in  single  pounds, 
or  in  scores  of  pounds,  or,  for 
that  matter,  in  hundreds  of 
pounds.  Yet  a  pound  of  the 
garden's  choicest  product  which 
my  host  presented  to  me  was 
duly  entered  against  his  account 
in  the  estate  books. 

An  hour-glass  was  brought 
in,  a  pair  of  fine  scales,  six 
little  spoutless  teapots,  six  cups, 
and  a  bucket.  Accurately 
boiled  water  then  appeared, 
the  tea  was  scrupulously 
weighed,  the  sand-glass  turned, 
and  tea  really  was  made  as  it 
ought  to  be,  and  when  the  sand 
had  run  out  was  immediately 
poured  off. 

So  far  so  good.  But  no  one 
drank  any.  It  was  taken  as 
far  as  the  palate,  and  then 
ejected.  Here  the  bucket  came 
in.  The  real  tasters,  however, 
are  not  dwellers  on  tea-gardens, 
but  are  artists  at  the  ports  of 
export,  and  it  is  their  trained 
palates  that  detect  faults  in 
the  flavour,  and  consequently 
in  the  methods  of  production 
of  tea,  which  can  then  be 
remedied.  I  tasted  the  six 
kinds  of  tea  with  great  gusto 


and  attention,  and  detected  no 
differences  whatever.  Planters, 
like  all  other  employers  of 
labour,  have  their  worries.  A 
successful  planter  must  begin 
by  being  a  good  manager  of 
coolies  first  and  foremost,  or 
he  will  not  produce  much  tea, 
no  matter  what  his  skill.  I 
was  probably  on  a  well-run 
estate.  The  people  —  men, 
women,  and  children  (most  of 
them  imported  from  the  plains 
below) — looked  happy  and  well. 
Their  attitude  towards  the 
planter  was  the  wholly  pleasing 
familiarity  of  well-mannered 
and  quite  unafraid  children. 
The  attitude  of  the  white  man 
here  towards  them  was  patri- 
archal, autocratic,  and  very 
benevolent.  I  felt  myself  back 
in  an  India  of  half  a  century 
ago,  and  a  very  good  and 
happy  India  I  found  it.  The 
planters'  knowledge  of  and  in- 
terest in  the  births  and  mar- 
riages and  such-like  intimate 
and  homely  matters  concerning 
their  estate  coolies  liked  me 
well.  We  have  not  the  time 
or  perhaps  the  inclination  for 
that  sort  of  thing  in  modern 
India,  although  there  is  noth- 
ing that  its  great  and  silent 
heart  appreciates  more.  Alas  ! 
that  this  heart  is  so  voiceless, 
and  that  the  tongues  of  a 
minute  minority  wag  so  loose 
and  loud. 

A  fearful  epidemic  of  influ- 
enza had  recently  visited  these 
hills.  Not  much  was  heard 
of  it,  for  the  region  is  remote 
and  inaccessible.  But  if  hon- 
ours and  decorations  were  be- 
stowed as  fully  for  the  saving 


1921.] 


Green  Hills. 


645 


of  life  as  for  the  taking  of  it, 
I  know  several  men  and  women, 
planters  and  their  wives,  who 
have  deserved  them. 

All  was  well.  Nunjun  had 
answered  to  the  call.  A  regu- 
lar stot  of  a  fellow,  legged  and 
framed  as  a  true  hillman  should 
be.  About  his  head  rested  a 
nimbus  of  frizzy  hair.  Clouds 
simply  loved  this,  lingered 
amongst  its  wiry  foliage,  and 
sailed  away,  leaving  it  full  of 
diamonds.  Part  of  Nunjun, 
although  not  literally  born  with 
him,  was  a  bundle  that  grew 
on,  rather  than  was  carried  on, 
his  back.  I  know  not  whether 
it  contained  his  sins  or  his 
worldly  goods.  It  was  only 
on  emprises  of  exceptional  haz- 
ard that  Nunjun  ever  detached 
himself  from  his  bundle,  and 
when  this  happened  I  knew 
that  he  was  about  to  sport 
with  death  and  negotiate 
ground  where  his  precious  bun- 
dle would  be  safer  off  his  back. 
I  became  as  fond  of  Nunjun 
as  I  would  of  some  faithful, 
efficient,  honest,  and  conscien- 
tious game-dog.  Certainly  I 
could  award  a  man  higher 
praise  than  this,  but  not  very 
much  higher. 

With  Nunjun  came  two  satel- 
lites. They  may  have  been 
each  as  good  a  man  as  he  was, 
but,  as  is  usual  in  the  really 


wild  races  who  furnish  the 
only  true  shikaris,  no  two 
kings  are  allowed  in  Brent- 
ford. Old  age  is  the  only 
thing  that  lets  the  second 
string  come  to  the  bow,  or 
forces  a  chief  shikari  to  give 
place  to  his  assistant.  These 
men  belonged  to  a  tribe  of 
honey-takers,  climbing  any  tree 
by  driving  in  hardwood  pegs, 
and  negotiating  cliffs  with 
rickety-looking  ladders  made 
of  long  single  bamboos.  No 
one  knows  whence  this  tribe 
came.  Cannot  a  tribe  have 
been  always  where  it  is  f 
The  very  wise,  however,  will 
tell  you  that  the  frizzy  hair 
of  the  men  and  the  wooden 
combs  worn  by  the  women 
have  their  exact  counterpart 
in  the  Fiji  Islands.  You  can 
draw  what  conclusions  you  will. 
Following  the  fashion  of  their 
tribe,  Nunjun  and  Co.  had 
their  front  teeth  filed  to  a 
point,  and  were  named  after 
their  eldest  sons.  On  the 
whole,  I  am  glad  that  we  fol- 
low a  reverse  custom — Johns- 
father  and  Tomsfather  and 
Eobinsfather  would  not  trip 
lightly  off  the  British  tongue. 
Each  man  carried  a  bill-hook, 
or  hung  it  over  his  shoulder. 
For  its  purposes  it  was  better 
adapted  than  the  Goorkha's 
kukri,  or  the  axe  of  the  Central 
Provinces  jungle-man. 


in. 


Next  morning  we  made  an  the  heaviest,  but  the  least 
early  start,  bag  and  baggage,  compact — was  left  lying  in  the 
The  usual  unpopular  load — not  usual  way.  No  one  would 


646 


Green  Hills. 


[Nov. 


touch  it  till  some  one  was 
forced  to.  Since  humanity 
first  laid  shoulder  or  forehead 
to  pack,  this  has  ever  been 
the  case,  and  thus  it  shall 
ever  be  when  two  legs  have 
to  carry  loads  up  mountains. 
But  away  we  all  streamed  at 
last.  The  clouds  were  up.  No 
more  than  a  few  pink  shreds  of 
gossamer  had  got  entangled 
among  the  blunt  summits  of 
the  Green  Hills  (there  are  no 
peaks)  which  towered  wonder- 
fully clear  and  parlous  steep 
above  us.  We  had  a  three  to 
four  thousand  feet  climb,  but 
the  day  was  young  and  cool. 
The  graded  tea-garden  tracks 
took  us  up  some  way,  and 
then  the  clearances  ended,  the 
virgin  forest  began,  and  we 
halted  on  the  border-line.  We 
were  about  to  enter  the  king- 
dom of  the  leeches.  A  coolie 
produced  a  bag  full  of  lime. 
With  this  all  our  legs  were 
coated  from  the  knee  down- 
wards. Boot- wearers  looked  to 
their  laces,  and  others,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  lime,  carried  sticks 
with  powder-puffs  fastened  to 
the  ends.  The  path  ran  steeply 
up  into  the  forest  between  two 
walls  of  trees  ;  rank  growths 
rioted  beneath  them.  After 
the  trim  orderliness  of  the 
tea-garden,  all  was  dishevelled, 
tangled,  and  gloomy.  The  leaf- 
strewn  path  was  the  only  clear 
space,  and  it  is  scarcely  an 
exaggeration  to  say  that  it 
quivered  with  leeches.  Each 
dead  leaf  held  several  leeches 
in  a  rampant  position,  on  end, 
hungering  for  the  one  thing 
that  leeches  love,  warm  blood. 


Quickly  we  passed  in  single 
file  up  the  path.  But  not  too 
quickly  for  the  leeches.  Lime 
or  no  lime,  they  were  going  to 
try  for  blood.  Boots,  puttees, 
gaiters,  and  bare  shiny  leather- 
like  legs  were  soon  covered 
with  them.  A  lace-hole  not  well 
filled  with  lace,  or  a  gap  in  a 
boot  seam,  and  in  rushed  a 
leech.  Each  rear  file  smote 
with  a  branch  or  a  powder- 
puff  on  the  legs  of  the  next 
ahead.  The  devil  took  the 
hindmost  with  no  one  to  beat 
his  legs.  In  about  a  mile  we 
came  to  a  stream,  and  all 
gathered  in  it  for  a  wash  and 
brush-up  and  a  fresh  applica- 
tion of  lime.  Then  on  again 
we  hurried,  crossing  fresh  ele- 
phant tracks.  At  last  day- 
light appeared  at  the  end  of 
the  tunnel,  and  presently  we 
emerged. 

We  were  on  the  top  of  the 
Green  Hills,  on  the  roof,  as  it 
were,  of  this  little  bit  of  the 
world,  for  nothing  was  now 
above  us.  Away  the  green- 
ness rolled  and  tumbled 
and  undulated  ;  grass,  nothing 
but  soft  verdant  grass,  and  a 
few  million  pink  balsams  and 
a  few  more  minion  blue  gen- 
tians, and  miles  of  sunny, 
clean,  breeze-swept  landscape. 
The  scarce-realised  oppression 
of  living  under  towering  domi- 
nant heights  was  only  felt  on 
reaching  this  delightful  wide- 
spaced  forest-free  plateau.  One 
might  compare  it  to  the  ton- 
sure on  some  shaveling's  very 
bumpy  cranium.  The  forest 
came  up  like  hair  all 
round,  then  halted,  and  left 


1921.] 


Green  Hills. 


647 


the  bumpy  cranium  clear  and 
bare. 

In  short,  we  had  arrived. 
The  rifles  were  unbagged,  and 
the  baggage  coolies  filed  away 
camp  wards. 

I  cannot,  however,  say 
"  Good-bye  "  to  the  leech  with- 
out expressing  a  hope  that  I 
shall  come  across  his  life-his- 
tory one  of  these  days,  and 
that  I  shall  be  enlightened  on 
several  points.  First,  what 
happens  to  him  at  the  first 
touch  of  frost  or  lack  of  shade 
and  dampness  ?  All  we  know 
is  that  he  is  gone.  Next, 
what  does  he  feed  on  when 
there  are  no  human  legs  ? 
If  on  wild  beasts,  how  can 
wild  beasts  remain  in  leech- 
haunted  forests  ?  Here,  for 
instance,  were  tracks,  quite 
fresh,  both  of  elephant  and 
bison.  We  know  that  leeches 
worry  the  life  out  of  dogs 
and  horses  by  getting  up  their 
noses.  Then  if  horses  and  dogs, 
why  not  wild  animals  as  well  ? 

For  the  rest,  his  weapon  is  a 
three-cornered  one,  which,  un- 
felt,  penetrates  the  skin,  and 
leaves  a  triangular  puncture, 
an  intolerable  itching,  and  a 
flow  of  blood,  unimportant  in 
quantity,  but  long  continued 
and  very  messy  to  socks  and 
bed-clothes.  I  do  not  suppose 
that  a  man  tied  up  for  a  night 
on  a  path  such  as  we  traversed 
could  survive  the  experience. 

The  Green  Hills  are  unin- 
habited. The  nearest  dwell- 
ings are  3000  or  4000  feet 
below.  A  planter  occasionally 
comes  up  for  a  day  or  two's 
sport.  Nothing  crops  the  abun- 


dant herbage  but  the  bison 
and  the  wild  goat.  Elephants 
regularly  cross  the  plateau, 
but  they  are  forest-dwellers. 
Tiger  come  up  the  great  ravines, 
and  no  doubt  take  their  toll 
of  young  bison.  And  panther 
and  wild  dog — where  are  they 
not  to  be  found  ?  We  had 
come  after  bison  and  wild  goat ; 
and  if  tiger  happened  along 
over  the  carcase  of  one  of  the 
former,  so  much  the  better. 

After  plucking  the  last  ripe 
leech,  we  proceeded  onwards 
on  "  goaty  "  ground.  The  goat 
inhabit  the  uplands  of  the 
plateau,  the  bison  generally 
speaking  the  lowlands,  although 
probably  the  highest  upland 
would  be  scarcely  1500  feet 
above  the  lowest  lowland.  We 
had  not  been  going  an  hour 
when  clouds  came  down  and 
forced  us  to  grope  our  way 
along.  But  the  wind  blew 
steady  in  our  faces,  and  the 
grass  gave  noiseless  going. 
Suddenly  the  curtain  of  mist 
ahead  of  us  was  slid  aside,  and 
disclosed  a  herd  of  between 
fifty  and  eighty  goat  on  a 
little  hill  not  700  yards  away. 
There  was  little  more  than  a 
glimpse  when  down  came  the 
mist  again.  This  made  a  diffi- 
cult stalk  an  easy  one.  We 
simply  had  to  walk  silently  up 
wind  to  arrive  within  range, 
and  then  await  visibility.  This 
we  did,  and  we  actually  walked 
a  little  too  far,  for  when  the 
mist  began  to  break  and  swirl, 
we  found  ourselves  almost  in 
the  midst  of  the  goats,  who  at 
about  the  same  moment,  or 
perhaps  a  little  earlier,  made 


648 


Green  Sills. 


[Nov. 


a  similar  discovery.  Besult — 
a  great  clatter  of  galloping 
feet  and  a  mad  and  misty 
dance  of  looming  animals  all 
about  us.  "  Shoot,"  cried  my 
companion,  who  was  anxious 
that  the  stranger  should  have 
the  shot.  But,  alas  !  to  discover 
the  saddle-back,  or  shootable 
male  goat  (never  to  me  a  very 
easily  distinguishable  animal) 
was  an  utter  impossibility.  The 
swirling  forms  were  growing 
fainter,  but  such  is  the  effect 
of  mist,  they  had  assumed  the 
size  of  elephants.  My  com- 
panion fired  once.  Then  the 
clattering  died  away,  and  we 
were  left  in  cloudland,  one  of 
us  at  least  very  unhappy.  We 
picked  up  one  goat  dead  at 
the  bottom  of  a  steep  gully. 
It  may  have  been  sour  grapes, 
but  I  was  glad  that  mine  had 
not  been  the  hand  that  sped 
the  bullet  so  truly.  He  had 
been  hit  cleanly  enough  through 
the  head,  but  this  was  not  one, 
I  think,  that  will  grace  X.'s 
walls,  which  contain  amongst 
other  fine  heads,  the  record 
wild  goat  of  these  hills.  The 
ground  here  strangely  reminded 
one  of  our  own  English  South 
Downs  on  some  summer  day 
of  driving  mist,  only  here  it 
was  black,  not  white  cliff  that 
these  downs  ended  in,  and  the 
sound  of  vexed  waters  coming 
up  to  us  from  below  was  not 
that  of  the  fretting  channel 
tides,  but  of  a  mountain  tor- 
rent. 

Till  early  in  the  afternoon 
we  continued  away  from  camp 


along  the  top  of  a  long  slope 
with  occasional  cliffy  ground 
and  convex  slopes.  Nunjun's 
stout  legs  and  periscope  eyes 
carried  him  all  about  this,  and 
enabled  him  to  see  into  con- 
vexities and  beneath  beetling 
crags  into  which  no  ordinary 
eye  could  pierce,  and  just  the 
places  where  goat  lie  up.  At 
three  o'clock  we  were  at  the 
edge  of  the  plateau  looking 
down  into  a  tremendous  rift. 
From  the  depths  of  this  came 
up  the  yap-yap  of  the  accursed 
wild  dog,  who  were  up  to  some 
devilry  below.  A  cold  wet 
wind  almost  shrivelled  up  our 
followers,  who  were  from  a 
much  warmer  climate.  We 
saw  several  more  small  lots 
of  wild  goat,  and  were  again 
caught  in  cloud,  and  remarked 
that  the  wind  had  shifted  right 
round.  We  were  wrong.  It 
was  we  who  had  done  the  shift- 
ing and  were  walking  away 
from  camp,  where,  after  dis- 
covering our  error,  we  arrived 
in  time  for  a  hurried  cup  of 
tea,  and  then  off  again  to  sit 
on  a  hillock  to  see  if  any  bison 
would  appear  at  sundown,  and 
so  back  to  camp  as  darkness 
set  in. 

We  must  have  seen  getting 
on  for  a  hundred  wild  goat,  a 
very  large  number  for  so  rare 
an  animal.  Of  the  two  grass 
and  bamboo  huts  which  we  had 
hoped  to  find  at  the  camping- 
place,  one  had  been  destroyed 
by  that  most  inquiring  of  all 
beasts,  the  wild  elephant.  But 
he  is  a  rough  inquirer. 


1921.] 


Green  Hills. 


649 


IV. 


Next  morning  I  went  out 
early  to  have  a  look  at  the 
young  trout  introduced  a  year 
before  into  a  most  elegant 
trout-stream  near  camp.  I  saw 
the  trout,  I  saw  bison  not  far 
off,  and  I  saw  a  herd  of  wild 
goat  winding  up  a  hillside  and 
disappearing  into  a  pink  cloud. 
Withal  it  was  one  of  those 
priceless  English  early  June 
mornings.  I  had  never  asso- 
ciated bison  with  good  climate 
and  beautiful  scenery.  I  hadn't 
thought  one  could  find  the 
first  cheek  by  jowl  with  the 
two  latter.  My  former  bison 
grounds  had  been  where  it  was 
hot,  not  over  -healthy,  and  very 
far  from  beautiful.  This  was 
indeed  having  it  both  ways. 

At  breakfast,  it  was  found 
that  the  egg-cups  had  been  left 
behind.  Nunjun  was  apprised 
of  the  situation,  and  told  to 
provide  instantly.  Within  five 
minutes  and  with  nothing  but 
his  bill-hook,  he  had  selected 
a  branch,  hewed  his  timber, 
shaped  it  into  two  little  blocks, 
and  bored  three  holes  in  each 
block,  of  the  right  size  to  take 
each  hole  its  egg — and  there 
were  our  egg-cups. 

That  day  to  a  hill  where  we 
expected  wild  goat. 

We  found  bison  instead.  The 
glass  showed  us  one  shootable 
bull,  but  he  possessed  only  one 
horn.  I  was  for  leaving  him 
alone,  but  my  companion  was 
so  keen  on  getting  a  one-horned 
trophy  that  I  unwillingly 
agreed  to  the  stalk.  We  could 


not  get  nearer  than  170  yards, 
too  great  a  distance  for  a  cer- 
tain killing  shot  from  my  rifle 
at  any  rate ;  and  though  we  got 
the  old  bull  at  last,  it  was  rather 
a  tailoring  business,  and  not 
one  to  look  back  on  as  a  sudden 
and  merciful  ending  to  so  noble 
an  animal  as  the  bison.  Of  all 
great  beasts,  he  is  the  most 
noble  in  appearance  and  blame- 
less in  habit.  His  one  object 
is  to  give  man  and  all  that  he 
hath  a  wide  berth.  The  same 
cannot  be  said  of  elephant, 
tiger,  buffalo,  or  the  deer  and 
antelope  tribes.  He  may  turn 
on  his  assailant  when  wounded, 
but  is  not  otherwise  aggressive. 
Standing  higher  than  the  great- 
est cart-horse,  and  very  much 
bulkier,  yet  he  is  wondrous  smart 
on  those  short  legs  and  game 
little  feet.  From  the  recum- 
bent position  he  can  start  his 
huge  bulk  into  motion  and 
flash  away  almost  as  quick  and 
quiet  as  a  hare,  and  his  per- 
formances down  an  almost  per- 
pendicular hillside  have  to  be 
seen  to  be  believed.  Some- 
times, though  not  always, 
heavily  dew-lapped,  with  his 
light-blue  eyes,  closely  curled 
forehead,  and  massive  horns 
much  corrugated  at  base,  and 
worn  clear  of  all  horny  sheath- 
ing at  tip,  he  is  truly  king  of 
all  bovines  and  stateliest  of  all 
beasts,  not  even  excepting  the 
elephant.  There  is  something, 
too,  irresistibly  comic  in  the 
latter's  hinder  parts,  for  they 
suggest  too  strongly  a  pair  of 


650 


Green  Hills. 


[Nov. 


ill-made  trousers  worn  with  no 
braces. 

I  sought  my  friend,  the 
Indian  bison,  recently  at  the 
London  Zoo,  but  found  him 
not.  The  nearest  approach  to 
him  there  in  beauty,  although 
on  a  much  smaller  scale,  used 
to  be  the  Chillingham  bull. 

It  must  take  a  lot  to  break 
a  bison's  horn.  This  one's  was 
broken  fairly  recently  at  the 
base,  but  whether  from  a  fall — 
a  quite  possible  contingency  on 
such  ground — or  in  combat,  it 
was  impossible  to  say.  There 
were  no  old  scars  on  his  body, 
as  there  often  are  on  a  stag, 
so  we  were  inclined  to  the 
theory  of  a  fall,  and  it  must 
have  been  a  heavy  one. 

Nunjun  and  his  satellites 
stood  well  away  from  the  fallen 
bull.  Although  they  had  will- 
ingly assisted  at  his  death 
and  at  the  deaths  of  many 
others,  their  religion  or  caste 
forbade  them  to  touch  or  to 
eat  him — a  hard  fate  to  men 
who  loved  meat,  seldom  got 
it,  and  when  they  did,  pro- 
vided it  was  not  beef,  could 
eat  more  at  a  sitting  than  is 
believable.  The  dead  bull  had 
to  lie  as  he  was  until  a  message 
was  conveyed,  either  by  a  bird 
of  the  air  or  some  other  very 
speedy  means,  to  a  race  of 
men  4000  feet  down,  and  a 
day's  journey,  for  you  or  me, 
distant.  These  men  arrived 
within  a  few  hours.  They  had 
no  scruples  about  beef,  and 
came  not  only  to  eat  it,  but 
to  eat  the  whole,  about  two 
tons  at  a  rough  estimate,  of 
the  bison.  There  were  many 


other  plain  evidences  of  a 
much  larger  herd  of  bison 
being  about,  and  we  resolved 
to  wait  till  afternoon  on  the 
chance  of  their  emerging  later 
from  the  forest  which  lay  not 
far  below  us.  It  was  my  com- 
panion's knowledge  of  game 
lore  that  prompted  this  sug- 
gestion, and  it  was  not  to  go 
unrewarded.  We  had  a  wide 
view  here  over  the  plateau, 
and  counted,  visible  at  one 
time  and  at  distances  varying 
from  one  to  three  miles,  about 
forty  bison.  There  was  one 
herd  of  thirty,  and  the  rest 
were  in  twos  or  threes,  all 
plainly  visible,  their  great  black 
bodies  showing  up  well  against 
the  light  green  of  the  grass. 
Not  very  late  in  the  afternoon, 
we  were  seated  on  a  knoll  about 
200  yards  above  the  forest 
line,  when  a  single  bison 
emerged,  grazing  quietly  to- 
wards us,  in  the  open.  At 
slight  intervals  he  was  followed 
by  more  than  thirty  others, 
bulls,  cows,  and  calves.  For 
an  hour  they  grazed  within  80 
yards  of  us,  who  were  seated 
right  in  the  open,  and  not  even 
keeping  particularly  motion- 
less. The  wind,  of  course,  was 
right.  The  bison's  vision  is 
poor ;  but  now  and  then  they 
suspected  something,  and  drew 
together  with  snortings.  We 
came  to  the  conclusion  that 
although  they  could  not  actu- 
ally see  or  wind  us,  they  thought 
there  was  something  doubtful, 
possibly  a  tiger,  on  our  knoll. 
Had  there  been  a  very  shoot- 
able  bull  in  the  herd,  I  suppose 
that  we  must  have  shot  him.  I 


1921.] 


Green  Hills. 


651 


am  glad  there  was  not.  It  was 
infinitely  preferable  to  watch 
them,  and  a  chance,  I  think, 
not  often  vouchsafed  to  the 
followers  of  such  a  wary  animal. 


We  crept  away  without  dis- 
turbing the  herd,  having  seen 
over  seventy  bison  in  one  day 
from  one  spot.  Next  morning 
they  were  still  there. 


V. 


We  shifted  camp  next  day, 
and  tried  conclusions  with  a 
herd  of  wild  goat — flock  some- 
how does  not  sound  right  ex- 
cept as  applied  to  domestic 
goats — who  were  altogether  too 
cunningly  placed  to  be  got  at, 
and  defeated  a  long  stalk. 
Towards  sundown  we  took  up 
a  commanding  position  to 
watch  for  bison.  To  keep 
warm  after  a  longish  wait,  I 
walked  to  the  far  end  of  the 
hill,  and  there,  below  me  and 
scarcely  300  yards  distant,  was 
a  really  good  solitary  bull. 
Light  was  failing,  our  plans 
had  to  be  quickly  laid,  and  we 
were  soon  slithering  down  the 
hill  on  our  backs,  watching  the 
bull  and  lying  still  when  he 
looked  up.  Safely  we  gained 
dead  ground,  and  were  quickly 
within  50  yards  of  the  bison. 
We  slowly  raised  our  heads, 
and  brought  him  into  view. 
There  he  stood,  head  down 
and  busy  grazing.  He  looked 
as  big  as  a  barn.  I  raised  my 
rifle  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
Click  !  A  missfire.  The  click 
to  me  sounded  like  a  peal  of 
thunder,  and  it  so  disconcerted 
me  that  I  pulled  the  other 
trigger  carelessly,  and  hit  the 
bison  much  too  high.  In  a 
trice  he  had  spun  round,  and 
was  thundering  down  a  very 


steep  hill  to  the  forest  100 
yards  off.  My  companion  gave 
him  both  barrels,  and  he  was 
hard  hit.  Nevertheless,  he 
crashed  like  a  traction  engine 
into  the  jungle.  We  both  held 
our  breath  to  listen.  There 
was  a  succession  of  crashes 
growing  more  distant ;  then  a 
final  and  louder  one,  and  then 
silence.  We  approached  to 
the  edge  of  the  jungle,  looked 
into  the  tunnel  which  the  bison 
had  bored  in  the  undergrowth, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  probably  he  lay  dead  at 
the  far  end  of  it,  but  that  in 
any  case  further  operations 
in  such  a  dense  tangle  of  under- 
growth, and  in  the  half  darkness, 
were  inadvisable.  So  we  left 
him  and  went  back  to  camp. 

We  were  out  early  next 
morning,  and  resumed  matters 
where  we  had  left  them.  This 
meant  an  advance  chiefly  in 
the  sitting  position,  owing  to 
the  steepness  of  the  ground. 
The  track  was  as  plain  to 
follow  as  if  a  traction-engine 
had  passed  down  before  us. 
We  had  only  gone  a  hundred 
yards  when,  at  about  that  dis- 
tance below  us,  we  could  dis- 
tinguish something  very  solid 
and  black.  It  was  the  bison, 
lying  in  the  bed  of  a  little 
stream  which  here  rose,  and 


652 


Green  Hills. 


[Nov. 


which  was  plainly  visible  7000 
feet  below  us  far  out  on  the 
plain  as  a  full  -  grown  river. 
The  bison  was  both  dead  and 
stiff,  and  he  must  have  fallen 
dead  at  the  last  crash  we  had 
heard  overnight.  A  very  fine 
old  bull,  with  much  corrugated 
bases  to  his  horns,  the  sharp 
tips  of  which  had  worn  through 
their  sheathing. 

Dismembering  such  a  beau- 
tiful animal  was  as  near  being 
an  act  of  desecration  as  has 
been  committed  outside  a  cath- 
edral for  a  long  time.  We 
should  not  have  felt  such  mur- 
derers had  we  left  him  as  he 
lay,  with  the  brook  rippling 
under  his  dark  sides,  laid  out 
in  the  shade  of  the  forest 


where  he  had  so  long  lived, 
and  which  he  had  so  greatly 
adorned.  But  the  beef-eating 
folk  regarded  none  of  these 
things,  and  were  soon  hard  at 
it  with  their  bill-hooks.  The 
brook  no  longer  ran  water,  but 
blood ;  and  trampled  ground 
and  gobbets  of  flesh  turned  the 
place  into  a  shambles.  Though 
not  attractive  to  us,  we  hoped 
that  all  this  and  what  was  left 
of  the  carcase  might  in  the 
course  of  the  next  day  or  two 
attract  a  tiger  up  from  his  beat 
below  ;  and  by  clearing  a  field 
of  fire  and  selecting  a  spot  to 
sit  up  in,  all  preparations  were 
made  for  this  event.  But  no 
tiger  came  while  we  were  in 
that  neighbourhood. 


VI. 


There  still  remained  three 
days  in  which  to  shoot  two 
wild  goat,  and  eke  to  supply 
Nunjun  and  his  fellows  with 
some  much-wanted  flesh. 

The  next  day  to  a  hill 
whence  we  had  a  wonderful 
view  of  the  distant  Animullai 
Hills  across  a  great  valley. 
Also  several  stern  and  distant 
views  of  fleeting  goat.  From 
here  I  laid  the  telescope  on 
to  the  scene  of  the  slaying  of 
the  one-horned  bison.  There 
swam  into  its  ken  what  I  took 
to  be  a  circle  of  vultures.  More 
careful  inspection  showed  them 
to  be  human  vultures,  the  beef- 
eaters from  down  under,  still 
beef -eating.  So  many  days  did 
they  remain  at  this  pleasing 
task,  that  I  heardlater  that  their 
wives  had  come  clamouring  to 


my  friend  the  planter  demand- 
ing their  return.  These  women 
feared  for  their  men  the  fate 
of  another  party  of  beef-eaters 
who  ascended  to  these  hill- 
tops to  eat  a  recently-shot 
bison,  and  although  warned 
that  they  had  better  go  back 
while  the  gathering  clouds  per- 
mitted, the  lure  of  flesh  was 
too  strong.  They  stayed  to 
gorge  and  were  never  seen 
again — lost  in  the  mist,  astray 
in  the  trackless  forests,  where 
I  have  no  doubt  the  leeches 
helped  to  end  their  miseries. 

Down  came  the  clouds  and 
obscured  everything.  Nunjun's 
frizzy  head  coruscated  with 
cloud.  Twice  to-day  he  loosed 
his  bundle  from  off  his  back, 
and  skipped  lightly  across  sheet- 
rock  greasy  with  a  trickle  of 


1921.] 


Green  Hills. 


653 


water  and  sloping  sharply  down- 
wards to  the  precipice.  These 
water- shoots  were  attractively 
garnished  with  lumps  of  moss 
which  promised  a  foothold,  but 
these  simply  came  away  to 
the  slightest  strain,  and  then 
if  you  had  not  prehensile  feet 
like  Nunjun's  must  have  been, 
you  skidded  along  over  a  few 
yards  of  slippery  rock,  and  so 
over  the  edge  and  to  kingdom 
come.  We  came  across  many 
elephant  tracks,  some  of  them 
leading  to  the  highest  hill-tops, 
and  then  returning.  But  for 
what  purpose  *  In  the  mists 
we  played  hide-and-seek  with 
an  old  he-goat,  who  loomed 
momentarily  once  or  twice  and 
then  vanished  in  cloud.  So 
we  gave  him  up  and  returned 
to  camp  after  a  blank  day. 
Yet  not  quite  blank.  A  cloud 
lifted  for  a  few  seconds  from 
off  a  great  hillside,  and  showed 
it  to  us  in  the  dim  light, 
covered  from  crest  to  foot  with 
the  beautiful  Nilgiri  lily  —  a 
flower  so  like  a  Madonna  lily 
that  there  seems  no  difference. 
That  was  our  bag  for  the  day. 
As  we  trudged  camp  wards, 
Nunjun  suggested  that  it  was 
about  time  we  arranged  mat- 
ters with  his  god  about  a  wild 
goat.  I  said,  "  Certainly." 
Nunjun  said  it  would  cost  one 
rupee.  I  bowed  myself  in  the 
house  of  Eimmon,  and  paid 
it.  I  had  my  money's  worth. 
All  that  night  I  was  awakened 
at  intervals  by  bellowings  and 
clamour.  This  was  Nunjun 
and  his  fellows  at  worship. 
To  me  it  sounded  more  like 
angry  threatenings.  But  the 
results  were  singularly  good. 


The  first  hill  we  worked 
next  day,  every  corner  and 
crevice  of  it  was  blank.  Then 
the  herd  we  had  tried  un- 
successful conclusions  with  a 
few  days  previous  was  viewed 
across  a  valley,  and  in  a  very 
difficult  position.  We  could 
count  with  the  glass  sixty- 
two  goat.  I  did  this  several 
times  before  mustering  up  de- 
termination to  descend  on  a 
particularly  hot  day  1500  feet, 
only  to  ascend  more  than  that 
elevation  up  a  much  steeper 
hill.  Down  we  went,  so  far 
that  we  hit  the  forest  climbing 
up,  and  had  to  cut  our  way 
through  200  solid  yards  of 
bamboo  and  sapling.  But  at 
length  we  arrived  at  the  foot 
of  the  hiD,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  which  the  goat  were 
lying  up,  all  with  at  least  one 
eye  open  and  several  sets  of 
well-posted  sentries.  A  most 
laborious  climb  chiefly  on  hands 
and  knees,  owing  to  the  steep- 
ness of  the  slope,  brought  us 
to  the  top,  and  then  we  began, 
venire  d,  terre,  to  slide  softly 
down  a  steep  convex  grass 
slope,  which  quite  shut  out 
the  goat  from  view.  We  judged 
them  about  70  yards  from  us. 
After  proceeding  about  50 
yards,  when  the  slightest  start 
or  sound  would  have  given  us 
away,  I  saw  a  little  snake 
come  swimming  along  over  the 
grass-tops  straight  for  Nun- 
jun's  nose,  which  was  close  to 
the  ground.  All  he  did  was 
silently  to  pluck  a  little  tuft  of 
grass  and  flick  it  at  the  snake, 
which  headed  away  in  a  dif- 
ferent direction.  After  a  few 
more  slides,  Nunjun  cautiously 


654 


Green  Hills. 


[Nov. 


raised  himself  on  his  forearms, 
and  then  sinking  to  earth 
again,  conveyed  by  pantomime 
that  the  quarry  was  in  view 
and  asleep.  I  slid  forward 
alone,  and,  partially  rising, 
saw  below  me,  and  only  about 
20  yards  away,  something  very 
black  and  very  white,  with 
horns  apparently  growing  some- 
where out  of  the  middle  of  the 
body.  This  was  the  old  saddle- 
back, sure  enough,  curled  up 
and  asleep.  At  my  shot  the 
hillside  became  alive  with  sixty 
other  wild  goat,  all  going  for 
their  lives  with  a  mighty  clat- 
tering. But  I  had  got  the 
old-man  goat,  and  picked  him 
up  a  few  yards  further  down. 
The  same  afternoon,  while  fol- 
lowing a  track  along  a  steep 
hillside,  I  was  approaching  a 
mass  of  rock  which  had  fallen 
across  it,  and  completely 
blocked  my  view  beyond  it.  A 
very  ancient  saddle-back  hap- 
pened to  be  taking  the  air  on 
the  same  path,  but  in  an  oppo- 
site direction.  As  I  approached 
the  rock  with  intent  to  climb 
it,  so  also  did  he  from  its  oppo- 
site side.  Neither  party  was 
aware  of  the  presence  of  the 
other.  The  goat  was  about 
two  seconds  nearer  the  rock 
than  I  was,  and  reached  the 
top  of  it  while  I  was  yet  10 
yards  away.  There  he  stood 
while  I  reached  back  a  hand 
for  my  rifle.  There  he  stood 
while  I  dashed  the  bolt  back- 
ward and  forward  in  loading, 
and  there  he  stood  till  I  fired 
and  he  plunged  off  the  rock, 
and,  hitting  the  ground  30 
yards  down,  lay  dead.  A  most 


obliging  goat,  for  in  addition 
to  all  the  other  favours  he 
had  conferred  while  alive,  when 
dead  he  resisted  all  the  laws 
of  gravitation  and  impetus, 
and  lay  where  he  fell,  instead 
of  ricochetting  some  hundreds 
of  feet  to  the  bottom  of  the 
slope  and  probably  damaging 
his  head.  He  was  the  oldest 
saddle-back  I  have  ever  seen, 
with  a  fairly  good  head,  a 
snow-white  saddle,  and  very 
little  meat  on  his  bony  body. 

Nunjun's  god  had  done  nobly 
in  return  for  that  rupee.  That 
completed  the  bag.  More — and 
I  could  have  spent  weeks  more 
(clouds  permitting)  in  that  par- 
adise of  game  and  scenery — 
might  have  been  trespassing 
on  the  kindness  of  the  virtual 
owners  of  that  little  bit  of  the 
roof  of  the  world — the  planters. 

On  my  way  off  it  next  day 
I  spent  some  hours  search- 
ing for  and  watching  the  re- 
cently introduced  trout,  which 
had  thriven  amazingly.  On 
our  way  through  the  leeches  I 
discovered  an  open  seam  in 
the  back  of  one  of  my  boots. 
So  did  the  leeches.  The  scene 
at  a  crowded  pit-door  was 
nothing  to  the  crowd  at  the 
seam ;  and  fearful  depreda- 
tions were  committed  in  the 
region  of  one  ankle. 

After  one  night  at  my  host's 
bungalow,  and  after  seeing  my 
heads  well  and  truly  buried  in 
an  anty  place  in  his  garden, 
I  left  these  pleasing  hills  just 
as  the  weather  broke.  I  had 
by  great  good  luck  just  hit  off 
the  "  break." 

X. 


1921.] 


655 


FELICITAS. 

A  TALE   OF  MEXICO. 
BY   ANDREW  MARSHALL. 


THE  sweltering  city  of  the 
True  Cross  lies  like  an  emerging 
reef  of  milk-white  coral  on  the 
edge  of  the  dark  -  blue  gulf. 
The  spikes  and  knobs  which 
it  thrusts  up  here  and  there 
are  the  towers  and  domes  of 
the  churches  once  appropriate 
to  its  sacred  name.  Half  a 
century  ago  the  Eeforma  laid 
an  iconoclastic  hand  upon  these 
edifices,  wrested  them  from  the 
Catholic  Church,  and  turned 
them  to  the  secular  uses  of 
the  community.  The  modern 
Veracruzano  is  not  shocked 
when  a  consecrated  ecclesi- 
astical building  is  used  for  a 
lottery  office,  a  theatre,  or  a 
tobacco  warehouse.  The  spa- 
cious aisles  of  the  church  of 
San  Francisco  have  been  made 
the  home  of  the  State  Library, 
and  the  acolytes  distribute 
literature  instead  of  incense. 
The  lofty  campanile  close  by 
the  bay  no  longer  calls  the 
faithful  to  mass  with  its  clash- 
ing bells.  The  bells  have  been 
replaced  by  a  dioptric  lantern, 
and  the  tower  made  a  light- 
house for  the  port.  And  in 
the  busiest  street  of  the  city 
the  church  of  San  Ildefonso 
of  the  Eedemption  is  profit- 
ably let  to  the  great  importing 
house  of  Kaulfrosch  &  Stich- 


ling,  one  of  those  enterprising 
German  firms  which,  laying 
themselves  out  to  sell  to  the 
Mexicans  the  things  the  Mexi- 
cans want,  by  Mexican  weights 
and  measures  which  the  Mexi- 
cans understand,  for  Mexican 
money  to  which  they  are  accus- 
tomed, have  of  late  years  cap- 
tured the  business  from  the 
unaccommodating  British.  In 
the  vast  old  building,  whose 
walls  have  stood  for  centuries 
and  bid  fair  to  stand  for  cen- 
turies still,  they  have  made  the 
dais  of  the  high  altar  into  a 
convenient  counting-house  and 
post  of  supervision,  and  have 
turned  the  side  chapels  into 
departments.  They  have  fitted 
up  galleries  and  staircases,  and 
have  filled  the  floors,  worn 
smooth  by  the  knees  of  wor- 
shippers, with  merchandise  for 
the  material  wants  of  ranch- 
men and  planters,  storekeepers 
and  mill-owners.  The  street 
crowds  outside,  instead  of  stop- 
ping to  kneel  down  as  solemn 
processions  with  banners  and 
relics  and  swinging  censers  enter 
or  issue  from  the  doors,  stare 
at  the  busy  tramway,  which  in 
Veracruz  runs  goods  waggons 
as  well  as  passenger  cars,  and 
is  all  day  long,  and  sometimes 
part  of  the  night,  carrying  for 


656 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


the  desecrators  boxes  and  bales 
and  barrels  to  or  from  the 
station  and  the  mole.  You  go 
elsewhere  to  hear  mass  if  you 
wish  to  hear  it.  You  no  longer 
buy  in  this  temple  indulgences 
from  Rome.  You  buy  instead 
hoes  and  grindstones,  iron  roof- 
ing, enamelled  dishes,  locks, 
saws,  saddlery,  business  books, 
sewing  -  machines,  imitation 
jewellery,  implements,  cottons, 
hardware,  and  patent  medi- 
cines— "  made  in  Germany." 

The  staff  of  the  establish- 
ment consists  chiefly  of  young 
men  who  have  come  out  from 
the  Fatherland  to  push  their 
fortunes  —  common  youths, 
hard,  frugal,  and  keen ; 
equipped  with  a  sound  educa- 
tion for  business  ;  understand- 
ing book-keeping,  writing  a  fine 
commercial  hand,  and  speaking 
two  languages  besides  their 
own  ;  ready  to  work  any  or, 
at  a  pinch,  all  of  the  twenty- 
four  hours,  to  sweep  the  floor 
and  help  the  porters,  to  take 
their  meals  from  their  master's 
table  (when  he  has  finished) 
after  having  laid  the  cloth  and 
carried  in  the  dishes,  and  to 
sleep  on  the  counter,  or  under 
it,  without  grumbling. 

Johann  Mayer  had  come  to 
Veracruz  from  Holstein  as  a 
lad,  a  pattern  of  these  virtues 

"As  h«  were  made  and  put  aside  to 
ahow," 

and  by  their  diligent  practice 
he  had  risen  to  be  a  salesman 
and  traveller.  He  was  now 
sent  on  journeys  to  the  towns 
of  the  coast  and  the  interior 
to  sell  the  firm's  goods,  to 
advertise  its  business,  to  pick 


up  information  for  its  use,  and 
to  make  and  cement  its  con- 
nections.   He  had  a  fair  salary, 
and  he  no  longer  slept  on  the 
premises  like  the  juniors.     On 
this  business  his  life  was  rough 
and  toilsome,  being  passed  in 
constant  activity  of  limbs  and 
brain  and  tongue,  in  constant 
matching  of  his  wit  and  tact 
and    invention    and    audacity 
against    falsehood    naked    but 
unashamed,     suspicion,     craft, 
and   congenital   and   practised 
dexterity    in    fraud    of    every 
colour  and  dimension.     Thus, 
like  the  fox  in  the  fable,  he 
learned   to    lie,    to    sneak,    to 
fight,  to  cheat,   and  to  bring 
out  what  there  was  inside  him  ; 
and  so  to  be  happy — happy  in 
talents    not    allowed   to    rust, 
but  kept  bright  with  use.    He 
acquired  the  high  accomplish- 
ment of  his  tribe.    He  became 
admired  and  respected  through- 
out the  districts  in  which  he 
made  his  journeys.    He  suited 
his    Mexican    customers    per- 
fectly.   They  liked  him  because 
he  was  as  themselves — and  a 
little  more.     They  would  only 
have  laughed  at  him  if  they 
could  have  believed  him.    They 
did    not    consider    themselves 
deceived  if  half  his   promises 
were  kept,   for  they  only  be- 
lieved   a    quarter,    which    was 
more  than  the  proportion   of 
their  own  they  were  ever  accus- 
tomed to  fulfil. 

In  his  advancement  he  had 
found  means  to  diversify  his 
labours  with  some  pleasures — 
pleasures  of  the  senses,  such 
as  offered  easily  in  the  tropic 
town  at  no  great  cost.  But 
he  had  allowed  no  entangle- 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


657 


ment  hitherto  to  compromise 
his  freedom  or  fortune. 

Johann's  brother  Ernst  had 
followed  him  across  the  At- 
lantic. But  Ernst  had  not 
come  out  so  young.  He  had 
been  a  market  gardener  at 
home,  and  had  served  his  time 
in  the  army.  Kaulfrosch  & 
Stiehling  had  given  him  em- 
ployment in  the  store,  but  he 
had  not  taken  kindly  to  it, 
and  had  left  Veracruz  and 
hired  himself  out  to  work  on 
a  plantation. 

The  young  men  had  their 
ambition.  It  was  to  grow  rich 
by  combining  commerce  and 
agriculture.  Ernst's  employer, 
Don  Pepe  Martinez,  a  Spaniard 
from  Old  Spain,  had  done  so 
in  the  virgin  lands  of  the  in- 
terior. In  the  brothers'  eyes 
Don  Pepe  led  a  life  of  patri- 
archal ease,  racial  superiority 
and  plenty,  far  removed  from 
the  fevers,  physical  and  mental, 
of  the  coast,  and  still  farther 
from  the  cold  and  fogs,  the 
grinding  competition,  the  class 
inferiority,  and  the  ubiquitous 
police  of  North  Germany. 

Accordingly,  when  in  1894 
the  progressive  Government  of 
Mexico  made  a  law  compelling 
the  Indian  tribes  to  sell  their 
surplus  lands,  and  a  rage  to 
possess  plantations  passed  over 
the  country  like  an  epidemic, 
the  eager  young  men  thought 
they  saw  their  way  to  fortune. 
Those  who  could  grow  coffee, 
tobacco,  rubber,  would  become 
rich  out  of  hand.  But,  as 
usual,  those  who  were  rich 
already  had  the  best  chance, 
and  those  who  were  rich  and 
astute  also  soon  helped  them- 


selves to  the  best  estates  where 
they  happened  to  know  the 
unmapped  country.  Don  Pepe 
Martinez,  whose  own  residence 
was  almost  on  the  confines  of 
geography,  bought  a  large  tract 
of  land  sixty  miles  farther  off. 
It  was  cheap,  because  no  one 
knew  anything  about  it.  It  was 
sparsely  peopled  by  an  isolated 
tribe,  and  very  far  from  roads. 
But  it  had  a  rich  soil,  and  when 
it  should  have  a  population 
and  communications  it  would 
have  a  future. 

To    make    a    beginning,    he 
sold  a  piece  of  riverside  and 
hill   to   the  brothers   on   very 
easy  terms.    There  were  indeed 
as  yet  neither  resident  workers 
to  till  the  ground  nor  roads  by 
which  to  bring  its  produce  to 
market.     But  the  river  could 
be    used    to    float    rafts    and 
canoes  for  a  hundred  miles  to 
the    confines    of    civilisation ; 
and  Ernst,  who  had  learnt  the 
methods  of  the  country,  pro- 
cured   by    contract    with    the 
government  a  cuadrilla  of  con- 
victs,  male  and  female,  from 
the  nearest  federal  prison,  and 
marched    them    in    bonds    by 
forest  paths  to  the  place  ;  while 
Don  Pepe,  whose  cattle  ranches 
lay  in  that  direction,  lent  him 
a  yoke  or  two  of  oxen  to  do 
the    first    ploughing    for    the 
tobacco.    The  young  men  were 
nominally  Lutherans  in  religion, 
but,  for  luck — that  is  to  say, 
perhaps    with    some    vaguely 
conscious  notion   of  propitiat- 
ing the  gods  of  the  land — they 
called    their    plantation    after 
the    name    of    the    shrine    of 
Mexico's  patron  saint,  Guada- 
lupe. 


658 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


Meanwhile,  Johann  remained 
in  the  employment  of  Messrs 
Kaulfrosch  &  Sticking,  and 


devoted  his  spare  energies  and 
his  savings  to  the  development 
of  Eancho  Guadalupe. 


n. 


At  daylight  one  morning  in 
January  Johann  stood  with 
his  scanty  baggage  on  the 
breakwater,  the  ripples  of  the 
almost  tideless  Gulf  lapping 
the  concrete  at  his  feet.  A 
dinghy  rowed  by  a  dark-skinned 
costeno  put  him  on  board  a 
clumsy,  roomy,  old  "  walking- 
beam  "  paddle-steamer,  which 
in  the  course  of  the  day  carried 
him  forty  miles  down  the  coast 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Papaloa- 
pam.  There,  tossed  like  a  cork 
on  the  great  rollers  of  the 
ground-swell,  and  groping  her 
way  with  infinite  precaution 
through  the  tortuous  channels 
among  the  quicksands  of  the 
bar,  she  entered,  by  the  narrow 
passage  discovered  by  the  Con- 
quistador four  hundred  years 
ago,  between  the  wind-blown 
sandhills,  the  majestic  river 
highway  to  the  interior. 

Johann  disembarked  that 
evening  twenty  miles  inland, 
and  the  business  of  his  journey 
began.  Only  his  first  stopping- 
place  could  be  called  a  town. 
Thence  he  passed  from  village 
to  village,  making  his  bargains 
with  the  chief  merchants  of 
each. 

In  due  time  he  reached 
Carrizal,  the  village  where  Don 
Pepe  Martinez  reigned  as  chief 
storekeeper,  merchant,  land- 
owner, farmer,  and  cattle- 
breeder,  whither  all  the  busi- 


ness of  the  district  gravitated 
to  the  clever  Spaniard  as  the 
rivers  flow  to  the  sea.  Sixty 
miles  across  scarcely  explored 
country  were  the  other  river 
and  the  plantation  which 
Johann's  brother  Ernst  was 
toilsomely  cutting  out  of  the 
virgin  woods.  Already  Johann 
saw  himself  reigning  there  as 
Don  Pepe  did  here.  He  knew 
how  it  was  done.  He  saw  the 
Indians  bringing  him  all  the 
produce  of  their  little  ranches, 
and  taking  in  exchange  rum 
and  cheap  cottons  and  salt 
and  Brummagem  jewellery,  he 
keeping  the  accounts  and  fix- 
ing the  prices.  He  noted  with 
new  interest  the  arrangements 
of  the  place — its  cool  rooms 
shaded  by  the  far-projecting 
pillared  roof ;  its  tienda  with 
long  counter,  handsome  shelves, 
and  fabulous  profits ;  the  big 
dormitory  and  the  big  eat- 
ing -  room  for  dependientes 
and  guests ;  the  stores,  the 
stables,  and,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  wide  patio,  the 
secluded  private  apartments 
in  their  walled  garden.  He 
thought  of  some  girl  there — 
with  good  looks  and  a  good 
fortune, — affectionate,  econom- 
ical, and  able  to  look  sharply 
after  the  cooking  and  the  poul- 
try. The  vision  floated  before 
his  mind  as  he  sat  in  shirt  and 
trousers  and  panama-hat,  smok- 


1921.] 


FeUcitas. 


659 


ing  Don  Pepe's  regalias  on 
Don  Pepe's  verandah.  Up 
here  on  the  skirts  of  the 
Sierra  it  was  never  cold 
and  never  too  hot,  the  rains 
were  sure,  there  was  no  fever, 
and  the  Government  was 
far  off. 

Next  morning  before  dawn 
he  set  out,  with  revolver  and 
machete  and  mounted  on  one 
of  Don  Pepe's  horses,  food  and 
wine  and  a  flask  of  Catalan 
brandy  in  his  saddle-bags,  to 
visit  the  theatre  of  his  ambi- 
tion. The  machete — a  cheap 
cutlass — was  for  cutting  down 
obstructive  vegetation  in  his 
path,  the  revolver  to  inspire  re- 
spect in  any  wandering  Indian 
he  might  meet. 

His  horse  was  good  and  the 
paths  were  dry,  but  it  was  late 
in  the  afternoon  when  he 
emerged  from  the  forest  and 
found  himself  in  jungle  higher 
than  his  head.  He  did  not 
recognise  the  place,  and  feared 
he  had  deviated  from  the  proper 
way.  The  jungle  almost  obliter- 
ated the  track.  He  cut  it  down 
with  his  machete  where  the 
growth  had  become  too  dense 
for  passage,  and,  pushing  his 
tired  beast  through  sacate  and 
bamboo,  emerged,  just  before 
sunset,  on  a  gravelly  bank  and 
saw  the  river  before  him.  But 
he  found  he  had  gone  out  of 
his  way.  Instead  of  the  low 
meadows  of  his  tobacco  planta- 
tion and  the  wooded  hills  be- 
hind it,  what  he  saw  across 
the  stream  was  a  steep  bank 
crowned  with  one  or  two  lofty 
trees,  beyond  which  there  was 
a  glimpse  of  a  high-pitched  roof 


with  grey  smoke  oozing  through 
its  thatch. 

The  river  was  broad  and 
swift  and  deep.  On  the  other 
side,  but  a  little  distance  down- 
stream, a  bongo,  the  small  canoe 
hewn  by  axe  from  a  single 
cedar  log,  lay  in  a  small  creek 
formed  by  the  mouth  of  a 
brook.  It  was  too  late  to  go 
back.  He  shouted  and  fired 
his  pistol,  and  soon  a  man 
appeared  running  down  from 
the  house. 

The  man  waved  his  hand, 
and,  getting  into  the  bongo, 
proceeded  to  pole  it  across, 
going  first  a  long  way  up- 
stream in  the  slack  water  under 
the  bank,  and  then  launching 
out  into  the  current  and  slant- 
ing over  nearly  to  where  Johann 
stood. 

As  the  bongo's  stem  grated 
on  the  gravel  he  stepped  ashore. 

"  Buenas  tardes,  good  after- 
noon, senor,"  he  said,  shaking 
hands  with  Johann. 

He  was  a  strongly  built  man 
of  middle  age.  His  skin  was 
of  a  darker  hue  than  the  brown 
of  the  Indians,  and  his  short 
hair  had  a  curl  in  it,  which  the 
Indian's  never  has.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  coarse  grey  cotton 
shirt  and  strong  blue  jean 
trousers,  which  were  turned  up 
above  his  knees.  His  feet  and 
head  were  bare. 

Johann  returned  his  saluta- 
tion. 

"  I  think  I  have  lost  my 
way,"  he  said.  "  I  meant  to 
go  to  the  Finca  Guadalupe. 
Do  you  know  it  f  " 

"  Si,  senor.  Don  Ernesto's," 
said  the  man.  "It  is  about 


660 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


half  a  league  down  river.    You 
have  taken  the  wrong  way." 

His  eye  swept  Johann  and 
his  horse  with  a  comprehensive 
glance.  He  recognised  the 
horse,  but  did  not  say  so. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  sky. 

"  The  night  is  coming,"  he 
said,  "  and  the  road  is  not 
easy  to  find.  If  you  would 
do  me  the  favour  to  come 
to  my  house  to  pass  the 
night,  I  would  guide  you  to 
Finca  Guadalupe  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

The  short  twilight  was  al- 
ready fading.  Johann  looked 
around,  and  then  bowing,  "  You 
are  very  kind,"  he  said ;  "  a 
thousand  thanks  !  If  it  will 
not  trouble  you,  I  accept.  I 
am  Juan  Mayer,  brother  of 
Don  Ernesto." 

The  man  bowed  in  turn  and 
introduced  himself. 

"  Leandro  Ortega,  at  your 
service,  senor." 

Johann  dismounted,  and 
Leandro,  politely  putting  him 
aside,  unsaddled  the  horse  and 
placed  the  saddle  with  its  bags 
and  cloths  in  the  bongo,  giving 
the  horse's  halter  into  Johann's 
hand.  He  pushed  the  canoe 
up-stream  to  the  end  of  the 
gravel  bank,  and  then  skilfully 
crossed  with  the  help  of  the 
current  in  the  same  manner 
as  he  had  come,  the  horse,  held 
by  its  halter,  swimming  along- 
side. They  landed  in  the  little 
creek,  and  Leandro  led  the  way 
up  to  the  house,  a  simple 
structure,  its  walls  rows  of 
saplings  stuck  in  the  ground 
and  bound  together  at  the  top 
with  vines,  its  roof  thick  pro- 


jecting layers  of  palm  leaves 
withered  in  the  sun. 

A  comely  woman  stood  at 
the  door. 

"My  wife,  Matilde,"  said 
the  man  ;  and  Johann,  taking 
off  his  hat,  completed  the  in- 
troduction himself  in  the  polite 
fashion  of  the  country. 

"  Juan  Mayer,  at  your  ser- 
vice, senora." 

"  Enter,  senor,  this  your 
house,"  said  the  man. 

"Welcome,  senor"  said  the 
lady.  "  Please  to  sit  down. 
Have  the  goodness  to  keep  on 
your  hat."  Such  is  the  cour- 
teous way  in  which  solicitude 
is  shown  that  a  guest  should 
not  suffer  by  sudden  cooling 
after  a  hot  journey. 

A  bright-eyed  boy  of  twelve 
came  forward. 

"  This  is  Pedro,"  said  his 
mother,  and  Pedro  kissed 
Johann's  hand  with  a  pretty 
grace.  Johann  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  tall  girl  who  peeped  from 
a  doorway  at  the  back,  and 
shyly  disappeared  as  they 
entered. 

The  boy  brought  him  water 
to  wash  and  a  towel,  and  when 
the  sun  went  down  Leandro 
lit  a  little  lamp  of  twisted 
reeds  in  a  shallow  cup  of  the 
oil  of  the  castor-nut.  They 
sat  on  a  bench  by  the  narrow 
table,  which  was  but  a  slab 
of  wood  fixed  on  two  posts 
driven  into  the  ground. 
Through  a  partition  of  the 
same  fashion  as  the  walls  of 
the  house  Johann  could  see 
the  fire  on  the  floor  of  the 
other  apartment,  and  the  girl, 
whom  he  had  seen  at  the  door, 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


661 


on  her  knees  making  tortillas, 
clapping  them  into  thin  disks 
between  her  little  hands. 
Matilde  brought  in  the  supper, 
eggs  fried  with  lard  and  chile, 
and  served  hissing  hot  in  the 
shallow  earthenware  cooking- 
pan  lifted  from  the  fire  and 
set  inside  another  dish,  any 
other  "  dishing  "  being  a  super- 
fluous vanity  only  tending  to 
cool  the  food.  Tortillas,  baked 
and  handed  in  "  hot  and  hot," 
served  for  plates  and  spoons. 
Each  had  his  private  knife, 
and  their  fingers  were  their 
forks.  The  remains  of  the 
Catalan  from  Johann's  saddle- 
bags went  round  as  a  pre- 
liminary cocktail,  and  coffee, 
hot,  clear  as  wine,  poured  into 
coarse  rudely  -  painted  bowls, 
and  sweetened  with  the  dark- 
brown  sugar  squeezed  from 
the  cane  by  the  primitive 
wooden  press,  crowned  the 
feast.  Two  or  three  dogs,  a 
pig  and  a  few  hens,  all  having 


the  freedom  of  the  house, 
shared  the  fragments. 

Before  the  meal  ended,  the 
girl  stole  again  to  the  doorway 
to  look,  but  fled  when  Johann 
turned  his  eyes  in  her  direc- 
tion. 

Outside,  under  the  project- 
ing roof,  he  found  his  catre 
set  up,  a  light  folding  trestle 
with  canvas  stretched  across 
it — a  camp-bed  made  in  the 
fashion  of  a  camp  -  stool. 
Leandro  bade  him  good  night. 
He  laid  aside  his  boots  and 
belt,  wrapped  his  blanket  round 
him,  and  lay  down.  His  host 
extinguished  the  feeble  lamp. 
The  fire  had  already  gone  out, 
and  Matilde  had  swept  its 
ashes  from  the  earthen  floor. 
With  a  last  glance  around 
before  he  fell  asleep  Johann 
could  see  nothing  but  a  tiny 
spark  of  light  which  burned 
before  a  coloured  print  of  Our 
Lady  of  Guadalupe  in  a  corner 
of  the  inner  room. 


m. 


Johann  woke  with  the  smell 
of  burning  wood  in  his  nostrils. 
Leandro  and  the  boy  and  the 
dogs  were  already  away  out. 
He  heard  some  one  blowing  the 
fire  with  long  deep  breaths. 
He  rose  and  drew  on  his  boots. 
It  was  almost  daylight,  and 
seeing  the  path  by  which  they 
had  come  up  from  the  river, 
he  set  out  to  bathe.  A  giant 
ceiba-tree  stood  on  the  edge  of 
the  little  creek,  and  the  canoe 
was  moored  beside  it.  He  un- 
dressed between  two  of  the 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXXIII. 


flat  buttress  roots  of  the  great 
tree,  and  had  a  swim  in  the 
warm  water.  When  he  had 
dressed  again  and  was  dipping 
his  feet  into  the  water  to  cleanse 
them  from  the  mud,  he  observed 
a  long  -  legged  dove  -  coloured 
egret  alight  on  the  opposite 
bank.  It  seemed  not  to  notice 
him,  and,  to  avoid  startling 
it,  he  sat  quietly  and  watched 
it  as  it  began  to  fish.  It  waded 
into  the  water  and  stood  mo- 
tionless. He  saw  that  it  wore 
the  fine  plume  which  the  price - 
2  B 


662 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


list  in  his  pocket  quoted  at 
$12  gold  a  pound,  and  he 
regretted  he  had  no  gun.  Even 
his  revolver  was  hanging  in 
his  belt  in  Leandro's  porch. 
Making  a  mental  note  of  the 
presence  of  the  bird  in  the 
locality,  he  had  just  pulled  on 
his  boots  when  he  heard  a  light 
footstep,  and,  turning  his  head, 
he  saw  the  young  girl  of  whom 
he  had  had  a  glimpse  the  night 
before.  In  her  right  hand  she 
held  a  water-jar  by  the  lip 
and  dipped  it  down  into  the 
stream  to  be  filled,  while  she 
leant  with  her  other  hand  on 
the  edge  of  the  canoe.  The 
jar  was  of  the  graceful  form 
common  in  Mexico  as  in  ancient 
Greece,  which  finishes  below  in 
a  point,  and  so  cannot  stand  by 
itself.  As  it  touched  the  water 
the  girl  saw  Johann  sitting 
within  a  few  feet  of  her,  and, 
startled,  let  go  her  hold  of  it. 
It  did  not  sink  for  a  moment, 
but,  slowly  filling,  floated  down 
with  the  gentle  current,  touched 
the  bank  at  his  feet,  and  quietly 
turned  round  and  went  under. 
She  stood  glancing  from  it  to 
him,  uncertain  what  to  do. 
But  for  the  jar  she  would  have 
run  away,  and  as  it  was,  if  he 
had  moved  she  would  have  fled 
in  another  moment.  But  he 
did  not  move,  and  she  thought 
he  had  not  seen  her.  He  knew 
she  would  be  as  shy  as  a  fawn, 
and,  with  a  hunter's  instinct, 
he  kept  still,  thinking  her  even 
more  timid  than  she  was.  But 
he  had  never  seen  any  one  so 
graceful  and  so  lovely,  and  he 
could  not  let  her  go.  He  was 
inspired  with  a  device.  Moving 


his  head  as  if  unconsciously, 
he  pretended  to  start  in  his 
turn  as  he  caught  sight  of  her  ; 
and  before  she  had  time  to 
draw  back  he  had  sprung  up 
and  thrown  himself  on  his 
knees  before  her,  his  hat  off, 
his  face  bent  almost  to  the 
ground,  and  breathed  out,  as 
if  to  himself,  but  yet  loud 
enough  for  her  to  hear — 

"  Santisima  !  " 

Johann  had  served  a  long 
apprenticeship  to  the  art  of 
audacious  deceit.  He  had 
taught  himself  in  lying  to  be 
prompt  and  bold,  and  use  had 
bred  in  him  a  habit  of  calling 
quickly  to  his  aid  all  the  mis- 
cellaneous stores  of  a  tenacious 
memory.  Some  Homeric  remi- 
niscence of  his  German  school- 
days had  perhaps  first  inspired 
him  to  the  time-honoured  arti- 
fice of  professing  to  take  a  wo- 
man for  a  supernatural  being. 
And  extravagant  as  his  action 
and  exclamation  were,  they 
were  not  wholly  insincere.  His 
emotion  at  the  sight  of  the 
beautiful  innocent  girl  called 
into  his  veins  some  throb  of 
the  chivalry  inherited  with  his 
Teutonic  blood.  Whose  mo- 
tives are  uncomplicated  ?  It 
was  not  without  some  feeling 
akin  to  adoration  that  he  used 
the  appellation  of  the  Virgin. 

As  for  her,  she  had  only 
been  startled  when  she  first 
saw  him,  now  she  was  be- 
wildered. She  was  even  curi- 
ous, like  the  foolish  antelopes 
Mungo  Park  attracted  by  un- 
furling his  umbrella.  And, 
though  shy,  she  was  unsus- 
picious. She  did  not  think  of 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


663 


guile  in  his  strange  conduct. 
Had  there  indeed  been  only 
guile  she  might  not  have  been 
deceived,  for  she  was  not  stupid, 
but  only  inexperienced.  She 
was  rather  brave  besides,  and 
her  cdntara,  the  water- jar,  the 
only  one  possessed  by  the 
family,  was  in  the  stream.  She 
wanted  it.  And,  after  all,  the 
man  was  not  quite  unknown. 
He  was  her  father's  guest. 

So  she  stood  still,  and  for 
some  moments  he  remained 
on  his  half-deceitful  knees,  not 
raising  his  eyes,  yet  seeing  her 
for  all  that.  From  some  Aryan 
ancestor  she  had  inherited  chest- 
nut hair  and  eyes  as  blue  as 
his  own,  though  set  in  darker 
lashes.  Since  his  boyhood  he 
had  seen  no  woman  of  such  a 
type,  or  felt  as  he  did  now. 
He  had  never  heard  of  Tenny- 
son, but  his  inarticulate  resolve 
was  some  rude  equivalent  to — 

"Here  by  God's  grace  is  the  one 
maid  for  me  ! " 

Very  slowly  he  rose  to  his 
feet,  still  keeping  his  eyes 
lowered  as  if  he  waited  for 
her  to  speak.  Then,  further 
to  disarm  her  fears,  he  drew 
backwards  a  pace,  and,  after 
a  silence  that  seemed  long,  he 
glanced  at  her,  took  a  deep 
breath,  and  said — 

"  Senorita,  pardon  me ! 
When  I  saw  you  I  was  con- 
fused. At  the  moment  I 
thought  you  must  be  La  Puri- 
sima  herself.  How — how  could 
I  help  it  t  " 

She  stood  perplexed  with 
wide  eyes.  Again,  but  for  the 
water-jar,  she  would  have  gone. 


As  it  was,  she  almost  did  so. 
He  divined  her  thought,  and 
looking  round,  he  saw  the 
cdntara  in  the  stream.  He 
turned  gravely,  stooped  and 
lifted  it  from  the  shallow  water, 
and  placed  it  carefully  between 
the  roots  of  the  tree,  so  that 
it  should  not  fall,  or  the  water 
in  it  spill.  As  he  did  so  he 
observed  her  reboso,  which  she 
had  dropped.  It  was  folded. 
She  had  used  it  as  a  pad  on 
which  to  rest  the  pointed  foot 
of  the  jar  on  her  shoulder. 

He  picked  up  the  scarf  and 
gave  it  to  her,  and  as  she 
received  it,  he  took  her  hand 
gently,  put  his  arm  round  her, 
and  drew  her  slowly  close  to 
him  and  kissed  her.  She  grew 
white  and  trembled,  but  did 
not  resist  him. 

"  Tell  me  thy  name,"  he  said 
softly. 

"  Felicitas,"  she  whispered. 

Before  releasing  her  hand  he 
said — 

"To  -  morrow  here  at  the 
same  hour." 

She  did  not  speak. 

Then  he  let  her  go,  and  say- 
ing, "  Adios,  beloved !  till  to- 
morrow," he  walked  quickly 
away  by  the  track  along  the 
bank.  It  led  to  the  mouth  of 
the  small  stream,  and  then 
round  under  the  trees  by  an- 
other way  up  to  the  house. 
When  he  saw  the  roof  he  lit 
a  cigarette  and  strolled  forward 
with  a  careless  air,  not  even 
glancing  at  the  direct  path  to 
the  creek.  Leandro  and  the 
boy  had  caught  and  tied  up 
his  horse  and  another,  and 
were  pouring  some  Indian  corn 


664 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


on    the    saddle-clothes    spread 
on   the   ground   before   them. 
Matilde  appeared  in  the  door- 
way.    She  had  a  little  round 
piece  of  sticking-plaster  on  each 
temple,  by  which  he  knew  that 
she  had  a  headache. 
After  greeting  them,  he  said — 
"  I  have  been  to  bathe." 
Matilde  looked  towards  the 
path      by      which      he      had 
come. 


"  Ah,  senor,"  she  said,  "  it 
is  dangerous  to  bathe  in  the 
river,  the  current  is  so  strong, 
and  there  are  the  alligators. 
You  should  go  to  the  arroyo, 
the  brook,  where  the  canoe 
lies." 

"  Mil  grdcias,"  he  answered ; 
"  I  shall  remember  next  time." 

After  coffee  he  set  out  for 
the  plantation  under  Leandro's 
guidance. 


rv. 


The  way  from  Leandro's  to 
the  Finca  Guadalupe  led  first 
to  the  stream  to  which  Felicitas 
had  come  to  fill  her  water-jar. 
Crossing  that  by  a  ford  a  short 
distance  farther  up,  it  entered 
the  forest.  There  the  path  had 
been  roughly  made  by  cutting 
down  the  tangled  undergrowth. 
It  wound  in  and  out  among 
the  tree  -  trunks,  sometimes 
scrambling  among  limestone 
rocks  that  cropped  up  through 
the  deep  leaf-mould,  sometimes 
plunging  into  muddy  rivulets, 
always  under  the  dark  canopy 
of  interlacing  boughs  and  hang- 
ing vines.  The  distance  was 
but  half  a  league,  and  there 
were  no  crossways  in  the  new- 
made  passage.  But  the  polite 
Leandro  accompanied  his  guest. 
With  a  courteous  apology  he 
rode  first,  his  machete  in  his 
hand,  and  skilfully  cut  away 
obstructions,  for  the  path  in 
the  tropical  forest  needs  con- 
stant reopening.  This  one,  too, 
had  not  been  made  for  horse- 
men, and  now  and  then  both 
riders  had  to  bend  down  on 


their  horses'  necks  to  push 
through  the  luxuriant  foliage. 
They  soon  emerged  on  the 
edge  of  the  cleared  ground  of 
the  plantation. 

The  site  had  been  well  chosen, 
for  Ernst  knew  what  he  was 
about.  A  low  alluvial  penin- 
sula formed  by  the  river,  which 
enclosed  it  in  a  wide  arc,  was 
rich  tobacco  land,  and  was 
already  patterned  with  the 
green  plants  in  long  rows  broken 
here  and  there  by  rotting  tree- 
stumps  or  half -burned  logs. 
All  around,  the  primeval  forest 
rose  away  to  the  horizon.  On 
the  slopes,  clearing  for  coffee 
had  been  begun.  Across  the 
river  the  trees  that  lined  its 
edge  were  hung,  almost  to 
their  tops,  with  a  thick  veil 
of  flowering  vines  like  an  im- 
penetrable green  rampart.  The 
river  itself  emerged  from  forest 
where  the  clearing  began,  and 
disappeared  into  forest  where 
it  ended. 

Three  rough  buildings  stood 
in  the  open  ground.  They 
were  constructed  in  the  same 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


665 


manner  and  of  the  same  ma- 
terial as  Leandro's  house.  The 
smallest,  which  was  close  at 
hand,  was  Ernst's  dwelling  and 
the  tienda — the  store  and  shop. 
The  largest,  away  in  the  middle 
of  the  clearing,  was  the  curing- 
shed  for  the  tobacco.  And  a 
hundred  yards  from  Ernst's 
house  stood  the  structure,  of 
the  same  materials  but  more 
strongly  built  than  the  others, 
and  closely  laced  round  with 
barbed  wire,  in  which  the 
workers  lived,  and  in  which 
they  were  securely  locked  up 
at  night. 

From  the  field  Ernst  saw 
his  visitors  and  came  to  meet 
them.  They  dismounted,  and 
the  brothers  embraced  and 
kissed  each  other  in  the  fashion 
of  their  homeland.  Leandro 
shook  hands,  and  they  entered 
the  house. 

Leandro,  like  his  countrymen, 
punctilious  in  social  observ- 
ances, was  also  innately  well- 
bred,  and  after  sitting  a  few 
minutes  asked  leave  to  go  and 
see  his  friend  Eamon,  the 
mandador  or  overseer.  Before 
desayuno  (the  substantial  late 
breakfast  or  early  dinner),  they 
all  visited  the  workers'  quar- 
ters, the  nurseries,  and  the 
curing-shed.  At  the  planta- 
tion the  casual  guest  is  an 
interested,  and  generally  a  wel- 
come, participant  in  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  business  of  his 
host.  After  the  meal  Leandro 
went  away,  and  the  two 
brothers  sat  down  in  Ernst's 
porch  to  continue  their  talk 
over  ways  and  means. 

Everything  was  prosperous. 


Weather  had  been  favourable, 
the  harvest  promised  to  be 
early  and  good,  the  war  in 
Cuba  had  raised  demand,  and 
prices  were  high.  Eager  buyers 
were  ready  to  make  the  long 
journey  up-river  to  see  the 
tobacco  and  purchase  it  on 
the  spot.  Johann  had  known 
how  to  arrange  with  the  pat- 
rones  of  big  freight  canoes  to 
bring  up  the  materials  for  the 
packing  and  supplies  for  the 
tienda,  which  he  got  cheaper 
on  the  coast  than  he  could 
from  Don  Pepe,  and  to  carry 
down  the  corded  bales.  Ernst, 
too,  had  been  economical.  The 
tienda  had  yielded  much  profit, 
for  through  it  the  workers  were 
supplied  with  their  needs  and 
their  luxuries  on  the  truck 
system,  and  the  Indians  of  the 
neighbourhood  already  made 
it  a  Sunday  rendezvous,  bring- 
ing their  cacao  and  vanilla 
and  coffee  and  chile  and  maize 
to  exchange  for  salt,  aguar- 
diente, powder,  and  trade  guns. 
Ernst  in  his  probationary  year 
had  picked  up  the  needful 
knowledge,  his  mestizo  (half- 
breed)  mandador  was  a  past- 
master  in  an  art  congenial  to 
his  race,  and  neither  was  in 
the  least  embarrassed  by  any 
scruple.  Johann  saw  the  reali- 
sation of  his  dreams  beginning 
to  rise  above  the  horizon. 

"  I  mistook  the  way  some- 
how yesterday,"  he  said,  "  and 
found  myself  at  Leandro's  as 
it  was  getting  dark,  and  had 
to  stay." 

"Yes,"  said  Ernst,  "you 
should  have  kept  to  the  left  a 
couple  of  leagues  off,  where 


Feliciias. 


[Nov. 


the  two  roads  join,  and  you 
would  have  reached  the  ford 
here." 

"  Leandro  and  his  wife  were 
very  polite.  Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  One  of  those  fellows  from 
the  coast.  A  negro  with  a  dash 
both  of  Indian  and  white  in 
him." 

"  What  is  he  doing  here  f  " 

"  Squatting.  You  find  them 
here  and  there  all  over  the 
country.  The  Indians  don't 
mind  them.  He  was  here  long 
before  Don  Pepe  bought  the 
land.  When  they  crowd  him 
he'll  go.  His  class  are  hunters, 
and,  of  course,  rubber  and 
mahogany  thieves.  And  why 
not  ?  The  land  was  nobody's, 
or  at  least  nobody  used  it.  In 
fact,  he  helped  Don  Pepe  to 
discover  it." 

"  How  !  " 

"  By  bringing  him  rubber  for 
sale."' 

"  Have  you  found  much 
rubber  f  " 

"  A  good  deal,  though  scat- 
tered. I'll  show  you  some. 
We'll  plant  a  lot  in  spring. 
I've  warned  Leandro  off  our 
boundaries,  and  he's  quite  hon- 
est up  to  his  lights.  He'll  do 
ns  no  harm.  There's  plenty 
of  room  for  him  up  above." 

Johann  wanted  to  know  more. 

"  Have  you  seen  his  wife  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Matilde  ?  A  nice  woman, 
nearly  white.  And  his  boy  is 
a  smart  lad.  He  has  two  sons 
who  are  cowboys  with  Don 
Pepe,  and  there's  a  girl  too, 
whom  I  believe  Eamon  wishes 
to  marry." 

Johann  said  no  more. 


When,  later  in  the  day,  he 
went  over  Ernst's  methodically 
kept  books,  he  found  that 
Leandro  had  an  account  at  the 
tienda.  He  had  bought  a  large 
quantity  of  panela,  the  coarse 
brown  sugar  of  the  country, 
aguardiente,  a  Eemington  rifle 
and  cartridges,  and  several 
tools,  and  had  paid  for  them 
in  Indian  corn,  rice,  pigs,  tur- 
keys, and  a  bongo. 

Life  began  to  stir  on  the 
plantation  between  two  and 
three  in  the  morning,  when  the 
overseer  roused  the  women  to 
prepare  the  tortillas  for  the 
workers'  breakfast  and  boil 
water  for  their  coffee.  The 
tortillas  were  of  honest  maize, 
softened  by  steeping  in  lime 
over  night.  But  three-quarters 
or  more  of  the  coffee  was  no 
more  than  roasted  maize  too. 
Ernst  neglected  no  feasible 
means  of  economy.  He  was 
up  and  about  with  the  earliest, 
for  he  knew  the  value  of  the 
eye  of  the  master.  He  had 
his  workers  mustered,  the  roll 
called,  and  early  breakfast 
served  out  by  lantern  light, 
and  the  gangs  in  the  field  and 
at  work  by  dawn  of  day.  He 
advised  Johann  to  sleep  a 
couple  of  hours  longer,  but 
Johann  rose  too.  He  took  a 
bowl  of  the  men's  sweet  hot 
coffee,  such  as  it  was,  from 
the  tub,  and  then  he  slipped 
away  by  the  waning  starlight 
to  the  path  by  which  he  had 
come. 

Once  in  the  forest  he  could 
only  move  very  slowly  till  day 
began  to  break.  Then  he 
hastened  on,  and  in  half  an 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


667 


hour  had  reached  the  brook 
where  Leandro's  canoe  lay. 
He  stopped  within  the  shelter 
of  the  wood  and  wondered  if 
the  girl  would  come.  He  had 
begun  to  fear  that  she  had 
already  come  and  gone,  when 
he  saw  her  walking  swiftly 
down  the  path,  the  water-jar 
on  her  shoulder.  He  had  time 
to  see  the  grace  of  her  figure, 
from  her  plaited  chestnut  hair 
to  her  naked  feet.  He  saw 
her  glance  quickly  about  and 
then  hurry  to  fill  her  jar. 
Whether  she  had  observed  him 
or  not,  she  did  not  again  look 
round.  He  trembled  with  an 
agitation  and  even  timidity 
strange  to  him.  But  when  he 
saw  her  ready  to  lift  her  jar 
and  go,  he  went  forward  with 
a  hammering  heart. 

"  Felicitas  !  "  he  said,  and 
drew  her  unresisting  into  his 
arms. 

He  only  dared  to  keep  her 
for  a  few  minutes. 

They  met  on  the  next  morn- 
ing and  the  next,  and  each 
time  for  a  little  longer.  Then 
he  had  to  go  away.  But  on 
the  last  morning  he  told  her 
he  would  return  at  Todos  Santos 
— in  four  weeks. 

Felicitas's  quick  response  to 
his  love  never  suggested  to  his 
mind  that  he  should  deceive 
her.  He  wished  her  honestly 
for  his  wife.  She  could  not 
read  or  write,  but  that  was  no 
drawback  in  the  life  he  planned. 


He  was  not  a  man  who  cared 
for  education  for  its  own  sake. 
For  his  business  he  required 
to  know  what  other  men  he 
met  knew,  to  correspond — on 
business, — to  read  the  market 
and  the  political  news  in  a 
newspaper.  He  never  read, 
nor  did  he  possess,  a  book. 
And  his  ambition,  to  be  a  mer- 
chant planter  like  Don  Pepe, 
would  not  suffer  because  his 
wife  could  not  take  her  place 
in  Veracruz  society.  There 
was  no  society,  there  or  else- 
where, which  he  had  ever  been 
admitted  to,  or  ever  hoped  for, 
where  it  would  matter. 

Had  he  been  settled  on  the 
plantation,  Leandro  would  have 
given  him  his  daughter,  her 
own  and  her  mother's  consent 
being  gained.  The  visiting 
priest  would  have  been  brought 
over  from  Carrizal,  there  would 
have  been  a  wedding  feast,  and 
Felicitas  would  have  gone  with 
him  to  Guadalupe  and  been 
happy. 

But  he  could  not  yet  settle 
in  Guadalupe,  and  to  take  her 
away  to  Veracruz  was  another 
thing.  Leandro  and  Matilde 
would  not  have  consented  to 
her  going  where  they  could 
never  see  her.  Family  affec- 
tion was  as  strong  among  them 
as  if  they  had  been  Hebrews. 
Johann  could  not  wait  a  year, 
two  perhaps.  He  feared,  and 
justly,  that  they  would  give 
her  to  Eamon. 


668 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


V. 


The  Mexican  has  many  festi- 
vals in  the  year.  Some  are 
political,  some  religious.  The 
political  he  celebrates  chiefly 
with  noise,  the  religious  chiefly 
with  drunkenness.  Among  the 
Indians,  Easter  and  All  Saints' 
are  rivals  for  the  first  place  in 
the  revels  of  intoxication.  Both 
illustrate  the  curious  and  wide- 
spread superstition  which  asso- 
ciates piety  with  idleness.  On 
both,  the  earnings  of  industry 
and  frugality  and  self-restraint, 
whether  in  the  shape  of  har- 
vested crops  of  the  field  or 
growing  meliorations  of  char- 
acter, painfully  won  beneath  the 
whip  of  necessity,  are  eagerly 
thrown  away  under  the  licence 
of  religion,  and  long  denial 
gives  place  to  brief  gratifica- 
tion. 

From  the  days  of  the  patri- 
arch Jacob  there  have  not  been 
wanting  astute  persons  to  make 
profit  out  of  the  appetites  of 
their  brethren.  On  the  feasts 
of  the  Church  the  enterprising 
Leandro  and  his  wife  met  a 
public  demand  by  establishing 
what  might  be  called  a  simple 
beer-garden.  The  garden  was 
but  a  cleared  and  clean-swept 
space  of  brown  earth,  shaded 
by  big  trees.  The  beer  was  the 
cool,  sweet,  queerly-flavoured 
tapache,  which  Matilde  knew 
well  how  to  concoct  to  suit 
the  Indian  taste.  Its  simple 
ingredients  were  water  and 
fruits  and  the  dark-brown  na- 
tive sugar.  The  time  of  its 
fermentation  was  nicely  calcu- 


lated so  that  it  should  be  ready 
for  the  day  of  the  fiesta. 
Leandro,  too,  took  care  to 
have  plenty  of  the  sugar-cane 
rum  of  the  tierra  caliente — 
coarse,  new,  raw,  and  strong, 
purchased  down  -  river,  and 
brought  up  in  many  laborious 
days'  journey  in  his  bongo. 
Nothing  else  was  wanted  but 
a  rough  log  or  two,  to  be  seats 
for  such  guests  as  did  not 
prefer  to  lie  or  squat  upon 
the  ground,  and  provide  a 
rostrum  for  the  amateur  im- 
provisatore  who  should  bring 
his  guitar. 

The  Indians  of  Jaltepec  at- 
tended mass  by  daybreak  at 
their  little  church  among  the 
mountains,  and  then  set  out 
by  twos  and  threes  to  walk 
through  the  forest  paths  to  the 
place  where  the  means  of  fes- 
tivity after  their  own  hearts 
awaited  them.  With  them 
came  some  men  on  their  way 
to  their  homes  after  employ- 
ment in  the  silver-mines  of 
the  Sierra  above.  These  had 
money,  and,  what  the  Indians 
valued  more,  a  few  stolen  cart- 
ridges of  dynamite.  The  miner 
has  taught  his  cousin  of  the 
forest  how  to  explode  these 
in  the  river  and  take  in  a  few 
minutes  fish  for  a  month.  All 
carried  something  to  barter  for 
Matilde's  liquors — a  turkey,  a 
couple  of  chickens,  a  tenate  of 
eggs,  a  young  pig,  a  bag  of 
coffee  or  black  beans  or  cacao, 
a  parcel  of  vanilla  pods,  a  few 
strings  of  black  rubber.  Very 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


669 


few  besides  the  miners  had 
money,  for  little  was  current 
in  the  neighbourhood.  The 
bargains  were  protracted,  and 
Leandro  always  had  the  best 
of  them.  But  he  understood 
how  to  save  his  customers'  self- 
respect  and  his  reputation  for 
liberality  by  throwing  in  a 
luck-penny  in  the  form  of  an 
extra  glass,  or  some  trifle  he 
knew  would  please.  Matilde 
and  the  boy  helped  him  to 
serve  out  of  doors.  But  some 
of  the  visitors  could  not  be 
denied  access  to  the  house. 
They  would  have  been  deeply 
offended  by  such  an  insult  to 
their  dignity. 

The  Indians  knew  that 
Leandro  had  a  daughter,  and 
to  more  than  one  she  was  in- 
cluded with  the  tapache  among 
the  attractions  of  the  place. 
At  the  last  fiesta  she  had  hidden 
herself  in  the  woods,  but  late 
in  the  afternoon  some  half- 
drunk  miners  had  nearly  caught 
her  there.  Leandro  would  pro- 
bably have  killed  any  one  who 
ill-used  her,  but  he  wished  to 
have  no  trouble  with  his  cus- 
tomers, and  so  it  was  arranged 
that  she  should  take  the  bongo 
and  cross  the  river  for  the  day, 
hiding  the  boat  and  herself 
safely  out  of  reach.  He  told 
inquirers  for  the  girl  that  she 
had  gone  to  be  cook  for  her 
brothers  at  Carrizal.  They  did 
not  believe  this,  but  as  they 
could  not  find  her,  there  was 
no  more  to  be  said. 

Some  of  Leandro 's  guests  de- 
parted for  their  villages  in  the 
early  afternoon,  but  some,  and 
these  included  the  wayfarers 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXXIII. 


from  the  mines,  stayed  on. 
As  evening  fell,  they  erected 
a  high  tripod  of  saplings  to 
support  a  large  flat  stone  from 
the  river,  and  on  this  they  put 
a  heap  of  splinters  of  resinous 
wood,  and  set  them  on  fire. 
By  the  smoky  light  of  this 
flambeau  they  danced  and  sang 
and  drank  till  far  on  in  the 
night. 

And  now  Matilde  thought 
her  daughter  might  slip  back 
to  the  house.  She  crept  down 
to  the  riverside  and  called 
softly  across.  She  was  afraid 
to  betray  the  girl's  whereabouts 
by  shouting  loudly,  and  when 
she  got  no  response  she  told 
herself  that  probably  Felicitas 
could  not  hear  her,  but  could 
still  hear  the  sounds  of  revelry, 
and  was  afraid  to  return  while 
they  lasted. 

When,  however,  the  last  rev- 
eller had  sunk  into  a  drunken 
sleep,  and  the  torch  had  gone 
out,  she  made  her  way  again 
by  the  starlight  to  the  river 
and  called  as  loudly  as  she 
dared.  While  she  stood  anx- 
iously on  the  bank  a  change 
came  over  the  sky,  the  stars 
disappeared,  the  air  grew  sud- 
denly cold,  a  keen  wind  rushed 
from  the  north,  making  her 
shiver  and  wrap  her  reboso 
closely  round  her,  and,  before 
she  could  reach  the  house,  a 
sudden  deluge  of  rain  came 
down.  The  sleepers  who  were 
not  too  drunk  awoke,  and  rose 
to  press  into  the  shelter  of 
the  porch.  Those  who  did  not 
were  quickly  drenched.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  "  norte  "  passed 
over  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
2s  2 


670 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


come,  leaving  everything  drip- 
ping and  everybody  shivering. 

The  dawn  came  at  last,  but 
no  Felicitas.  The  boy  searched 
the  woods  near  the  house,  and 
Leandro  went  down  and,  fear- 
less of  alligators,  swam  across 
the  river.  He  was  puzzled  to 
find  no  trace  of  the  bongo. 
He  examined  the  only  path 
through  the  jungle,  that  by 
which  Johann  had  come  a 
month  ago.  Such  marks  as 
it  bore  had  been  half-obliter- 
ated by  the  rain,  and  he  could 
not  tell  whether  they  were 
new  or  old.  He  swam  back 
and,  after  a  short  rest,  re- 
turned to  the  house.  Matilde 
and  he  were  sure  that  Felicitas 
had  not  been  carried  off  by 
any  of  the  village  Indians,  and 
all  the  miners  who  had  come 
were  still  present.  None  of 
Ernst's  convict  gang  had,  they 
understood,  been  permitted  to 
leave  the  plantation.  Still, 
who  could  tell  f 

Mounting  his  horse,  Leandro 
rode  quickly  to  Guadalupe. 
He  thought  he  could  trust  Don 
Ernesto  and  Eamon.  He  found 
them  in  the  field  with  their 
men.  None  had  been  absent. 
But  Ernst  offered  him  his 
bongo  to  search  the  river.  As 
they  went  down  together  to 
the  plantation  landing  -  place 
Leandro  saw  lying  on  the  bank 
a  pole.  He  stopped,  for  he 
thought  he  recognised  it. 

"It  is  my  palanca,"  he  said 
to  Ernst. 

Enst  looked  at  it.  His  own 
bongo  was  moored  near,  its 
pole  in  it. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  he  asked. 


Leandro  took  it  up  and  held 
it  in  his  hand. 

"  I  am  sure,"  he  said.  "  Yes- 
terday it  was  in  my  bongo. 
Felicitas  would  cross  with  it. 
Can  she  have  come  down  here  ? 
And  where  is  the  bongo  ?  " 

The  bongo  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen.  Doubt  and  suspicion 
began  to  rise  in  Leandro 's 
thoughts  and  he  stared  search- 
ingly  at  Ernst,  and  could  find 
nothing  in  his  face  but  friendly 
concern  or  deep  hypocrisy. 

"  Perhaps  we  can  find  out 
how  it  came  here,"  said  Ernst. 
"  I  do  not  think  any  one  has 
been  at  the  river." 

He  found  out  very  easily. 
A  woman  coming  down  to  wash 
clothes  had  seen  it  floating 
and  brought  it  ashore.  That 
was  all.  Taking  it  with  them, 
they  embarked  and  set  out  on 
their  search. 

Poling  up-stream  was  slow, 
and  their  minute  examination 
made  it  slower  still.  It  was 
noon  when  they  came  in  sight 
of  something  lying  on  a  low 
sandbank  that  stretched  out 
into  the  river.  The  atmosphere 
was  vibrating  with  the  heat, 
and  in  the  dazzling  glare  they 
could  not  at  first  make  out 
what  the  thing  was.  Leandro 
was  the  first  to  recognise  it. 

"  Lagarto  grdnde  !  Alliga- 
tor !  "  he  whispered. 

Ernst  pulled  out  his  revolver. 
Leandro  shook  his  head,  but 
Ernst  could  not  resist  the  temp- 
tation. The  animal  seemed  to 
be  asleep,  basking  in  the  hot 
sunshine.  Ernst  could  not  see 
its  eye,  but  he  aimed  at  the 
morsel  of  whitish  skin  under 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


671 


the  stretched-out  foreleg.  Al- 
most as  lie  fired  the  huge  brute 
dashed  into  the  water  with 
incredible  swiftness  and  dis- 
appeared, making  a  wave  that 
rocked  their  boat.  A  flock  of 
parrots  rose  screaming  into  the 
air,  and  they  heard  the  mon- 
keys chattering  in  the  trees. 
Ernst  replaced  the  empty  cart- 
ridge. Leandro  was  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand. 

"  There  is  something  else  on 
the  bank,  Don  Ernesto,"  he 
said. 

There  was  something  else, 
and  it  had  not  moved,  but  it 
was  on  the  upper  side  of  the 
sandbank,  and  they  could  not 
see  it  well.  They  poled  up- 


stream and  round  to  it.  It 
was  Leandro's  bongo  stranded 
and  empty. 

They  examined  the  bank. 
No  footprints  of  any  one  having 
landed  were  to  be  found,  but 
the  heavy  rain  might  have 
obliterated  them,  and  on  the 
banks  the  thick  creepers  and 
sacate  grass  showed  no  sign  of 
having  been  penetrated. 

Leandro  got  into  his  own 
boat.  It  was  undamaged.  Each 
now  took  one  side  of  the  river 
and  they  poled  slowly  up, 
closely  scrutinising  every  yard 
of  the  banks.  It  was  almost 
evening  when  they  arrived  op- 
posite Leandro's,  and  they  had 
found  nothing. 


VI. 


Johann  had  promised  Feli- 
citas that  he  would  return  at 
the  fiesta  of  All  Saints. 

He  finished  his  journey  into 
the  high  country,  and  on  the 
27th  of  October  reached  Car- 
rizal  on  his  way  back  to  Vera- 
cruz. 

"  You  will  stay  here  over 
Todos  Santos,"  said  the  hospit- 
able Don  Pepe.  "  It  is  a  mis- 
take to  travel  at  the  time  of 
the  fiesta.  The  steamer  will 
be  crowded,  food  will  be  diffi- 
cult to  get,  and  you  will  not 
be  able  to  do  any  business  on 
the  way." 

"It  is  true,  Don  Pepe,  and 
a  thousand  thanks.  I  will  not 
go  down  the  river  till  after  the 
fiesta.  Indeed,  I  promised 
Ernesto  to  go  for  two  days  to 
the  plantation  and  help  him 


to  keep  order.  You  know  how 
difficult  it  will  be  among  his 
jail-birds.  And  I  am  hoping 
you  will  come  with  me  and  pay 
us  a  visit." 

Johann  knew  that  Don  Pepe 
would  like  to  visit  his  property, 
and  to  see  for  himself  how  the 
part  he  had  sold  looked  when 
it  had  been  partly  cleared,  and 
how  the  plantation  was  pros- 
pering; and  what  exactly  the 
brothers  were  doing,  whether 
they  were  getting  all  their 
supplies  from  him,  and  if  not, 
from  whom  and  on  what  terms. 
A  little  excursion  combining 
business  with  pleasure  was  en- 
tirely to  his  taste.  But  Johann 
also  knew  that  the  time  of  the 
fiesta  was  too  busy  and  too 
profitable  for  Don  Pepe  to 
leave  home.  He  was  not  dis- 


672 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


appointed,  though  he  pretended 
to  be,  when  his  host  answered, 
with  real  regret  in  his  voice, 
and  shaking  his  head — 

"  It  is  impossible,  Don  Juan. 
I  should  like  to  go,  but  I 
cannot  leave  home  just  now. 
Next  time  you  come  —  yes, 
with  all  the  pleasure  in  the 
world." 

"  I  understand,  Don  Pepe, 
and  I  hope  we  may  make  you 
more  comfortable  then  than  we 
could  do  now.  Ernesto  is  so 
economical  that  he  lives  like 
an  Indian,  but  after  the  tobacco 
is  sold  I  am  going  to  make 
some  improvements." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  and 
if  there  is  anything  I  have  in 
the  tienda  here  ..." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that. 
Meantime,  as  I  am  used  in 
Veracruz  and  in  your  hospit- 
able house  to  .  .  ." 

"  No  hay  de  que !  Don't 
mention  it !  "  said  Don  Pepe. 

"  Well,  I  was  thinking  I 
would  get  from  the  tienda  one 
or  two  things  I  could  take  on 
the  horse  with  me :  a  pair  of 
blankets,  a  couple  of  tins  of 
beef,  some  bread,  and  a  bottle 
or  two  of  wine." 

"  I  will  lend  you  a  strong 
horse  that  can  carry  much 
more  than  that.  Go  to  the 
tienda  and  get  what  you  want. 
I'll  charge  you  wholesale  prices 
as  a  colonist  of  mine,  no  1  " 

Johann  set  out  next  morn- 
ing. It  was  All  Hallows'  Eve 
in  the  calendar.  He  followed 
the  old  track,  and  as  he  passed 
one  of  Don  Pepe's  outlying 
fields  of  maize,  he  added  to  his 
provisions  by  plucking  a  dozen 


of  the  largest  heads.  This  time 
he  did  not  try  to  do  the  journey 
in  one  day.  He  rode  leisurely, 
resting  for  some  hours  at  mid- 
day. In  the  evening,  having 
done  two-thirds  of  the  journey, 
he  stopped  in  a  glade  of  the 
pasture  land,  unsaddled  the 
horse  and  tethered  it  at  the 
full  length  of  the  lariat,  ate  his 
supper,  and  lay  down  to  sleep 
wrapped  in  a  blanket  and  with 
his  saddle  for  a  pillow.  No 
rain  fell,  and  he  continued  his 
journey  in  the  morning.  But 
when  he  came  to  the  dividing 
ways,  he  took  the  path  that 
led  to  Leandro's. 

Felicitas  had  given  away  her 
whole  childish  heart  to  the 
big  fair-haired  stranger.  He 
had  said  he  would  return  at 
the  fiesta,  and  she  had  waited 
for  him  at  the  stream  in  the 
morning.  When  she  was  sent 
across  the  river  to  be  out  of 
the  way  of  the  revellers,  she 
first  hid  the  bongo  under  over- 
hanging trees,  and  then  went 
and  sat  down  in  the  opening 
of  the  path  from  the  forest, 
herself  hidden  by  the  long 
sacate,  but  able  to  see  on  the 
other  side  the  opening  of  the 
brook  where  she  was  accus- 
tomed to  draw  the  water  and 
had  met  her  lover.  Her  mother 
had  wrapped  up  some  frijoles 
in  a  big  tortilla  for  her  dinner. 

All  forenoon  she  patiently 
watched,  ready  to  show  herself 
if  Johann  came.  The  river 
made  a  gentle  murmur,  through 
which  she  could  sometimes  hear 
the  faint  sound  of  a  voice, 
almost  as  monotonous,  singing, 
and  now  and  then  the  tinkle 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


673 


of  a  guitar.  The  noise  of  the 
river  perceptibly  increased.  It 
had  rained  yesterday  up  among 
the  hills,  and  the  current  was 
rising.  The  heat  was  great, 
and  her  long  fixed  gaze  at  one 
spot  half  hypnotised  her.  She 
had  almost  lost  consciousness 
for  a  moment,  when  she  was 
roused  by  the  sound  of  a  foot- 
step. Instinctively  she  slipped 
away  from  the  path  into  the 
cover  of  the  long  grass.  Johann 
appeared,  pushing  his  way  to 
the  riverside.  He  stopped  near 
her,  and  she  saw  that  his 
eyes  were  fixed  on  the  meeting- 
place  on  which  she  herself  had 
been  gazing  so  long.  He  was 
looking  for  her,  as  she  had 
been  for  him.  With  shy  happy 
smiles  she  came  behind  him. 
He  turned  at  the  sound  of  her 
footsteps. 

The  hours  passed  quickly, 
but  the  sun  was  still  high  in 
the  sky  when  he  said — 

"  We  must  be  gone,  for," 
holding  her  hands  and  looking 
in  her  face,  "  we  cannot  be 
separated  again." 

She  gave  a  sigh  and  whis- 
pered— 

"  My  father  has  promised  me 
to  Don  Eamon." 

He  started.  "  Don  Eamon  ?" 
he  cried. 

"  He  is  the  mandador  at 
Guadalupe." 

"  And  you  ?  "  he  cried  jeal- 
ously. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I 
have  never  spoken  to  him. 
Mama  told  me.  She  thought 
it  would  be  good  if  I  lived 
near.  At  Guadalupe  I  would 
see  her  very  often." 


He  was  already  furiously 
jealous  of  Don  Eamon. 

"  Here  is  my  plan,"  he  said. 
"  Felicitas,  you  are  to  marry 
with  me."  He  used  her  own 
idiom,  and  spoke  in  a  master's 
tone. 

"  Si,  senor." 

"  As  soon  as  I  arrange  my 
business  at  Veracruz  I  am 
coming  to  live  at  Guadalupe 
and  you  will  be  the  wife  of  the 
master,  not  the  mandador." 

She  laughed  happily.  "  Ah 
yes,"  she  said.  "  I  am  glad. 
I  thought  you  were  taking  me 
away." 

"  I  am  taking  you  away,  but 
only  for  a  short  time.  The 
cura  at  Veracruz  will  marry  us. 
We  shall  live  in  Veracruz  till 
I  have  arranged  my  business 
there,  and  then  we  shall  come 
to  live  at  Guadalupe,  and  you 
shall  be  always  beside  your 
father  and  mother." 

He  told  her  he  could  not 
wait.  She  must  come  with 
him  now.  If  she  refused  he 
would  think  she  preferred  Don 
Eamon.  He  dazzled  her  with 
the  picture  of  new  scenes  to 
be  visited  with  him,  and  their 
happy  return  before  long.  She 
yielded,  for  she  had  no  will  but 
his.  But  she  sighed  as  she 
remembered  that  in  the  mean- 
time her  mother  would  not 
know  what  had  become  of  her. 
Johann,  watching  her  face, 
divined  what  was  in  her 
thoughts. 

"  Does  your  father  read  ?  " 
he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head.  She 
remembered  that  when  the 
cura  had  sent  him  a  purple 


674 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


printed  paper  promising  indul- 
gences for  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  shrine  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  Maria  de  los  Bemedios, 
Don  Eamon  had  read  it  to 
him. 

"Well,"  said  Johann,  "I 
shall  write  to  my  brother  Don 
Ernesto,  and  tell  him  to  tell 
your  father." 

Felicitas  was  satisfied.  He 
led  her  to  the  place  where  his 
horse  was  tethered.  Then  he 
remembered  the  bongo.  He 
made  an  excuse  to  leave  her 
for  a  few  minutes  and  went 
back.  He  found  the  bongo 
and  unmoored  it,  setting  it 
adrift  and  throwing  the  paddle 
and  the  pole  into  the  water, 
which  was  rising  rapidly.  He 
hoped  they  all  might  float  un- 
noticed so  far  down  the  river 
that  Leandro  should  hear  of 
them  no  more.  Left  where  it 
was,  the  bongo  would  have 


shown  that  Felicitas  had  landed 
there.  He  wished  to  destroy 
all  traces  of  her  flight.  He 
broke  down  a  leafy  branch, 
and  trailing  it  behind  him, 
obliterated  her  footsteps  and 
his  own  in  the  sand. 

Two  days  later  he  rode  up 
to  Don  Pepe's  house  at  Carrizal, 
just  in  time  to  return  the  horse 
and  take  leave  of  Don  Pepe 
before  the  steamer  started. 
Many  acquaintances  saluted 
him  and  bade  him  good-bye 
as  he  went  on  board.  None 
of  them  paid  any  attention 
to  the  woman,  closely  wrapped 
in  a  travel-stained  blanket,  who 
slipped  timidly  over  the  gang- 
way and  stood  among  the  deck 
passengers. 

But  her  wild  eyes  did  not 
lose  sight  of  him,  and  as  soon 
as  the  boat  had  rounded  the 
first  turn  in  the  river  he  joined 
her. 


VII. 


Felicitas  had  lived  almost  as 
much  alfresco  as  the  animals. 
The  dwelling  in  which  she  had 
been  brought  up  was  little  more 
than  a  roof  of  palm  leaves.  As 
a  shelter  from  the  sun's  heat 
and  the  rains  it  was  only  a 
little  different  from,  and  a  little 
better  than,  the  overarching 
trees.  Thus,  in  her  flight  with 
Johann,  the  walk  and  ride 
through  the  forest,  the  eat- 
ing and  sleeping  in  the  open 
air,  there  was  nothing  so 
strange  as  to  distract  her 
from  her  happiness.  The  life 
was  only  her  common  life 


transfigured  by   the    company 
of  her  lover. 

But  a  change  came  when  she 
left  the  forest,  embarked  on 
board  the  steamer,  and  set  out 
on  the  weary  journey  to  the 
coast.  The  long  day  among 
the  crowd  on  deck  over  the 
throbbing  engine,  the  night  on 
shore  in  the  noisy  riverside 
f6nda ;  the  next  day's  journey, 
first  in  the  big  steamer  to 
Alvarado,  then  in  the  close 
rattling  railway  car  to  Vera- 
cruz ;  the  ceaseless  din,  the 
dust,  the  dazzling  glare,  the 
stifling  heat,  the  thronging  pas- 


192.1.] 


Felicitas. 


675 


sengers,  the  confinement,  the 
swift  changes  of  scene  outside 
the  car  window,  were  all  new, 
bewildering,  and  almost  stupe- 
fying to  the  young  girl.  Her 
head  ached,  she  was  hot,  dusty, 
tired  out  with  excitement,  and 
dull  and  heavy-eyed,  when  the 
little  train,  that  had  crawled 
all  afternoon  among  the  swamps 
and  sand-dunes  of  the  coast, 
completed  its  leisurely  journey 
with  a  spasmodic  rush  at  the 
end  into  Veracruz  Station.  Her 
limbs  were  stiff  and  cramped 
when  Johann  helped  her  to 
alight. 

The  daylight  was  almost  gone. 
Johann  hired  a  porter  to  carry 
his  luggage  ;  he  had  little,  she 
had  none.  She  wrapped  her 
head  and  bosom  closely  in  her 
reboso,  as  the  Edinburgh  ladies 
of  the  Eegency  used  their 
shawls  when  they  went  out, 
and  walked  by  his  side  down 
the  avenue  of  gigantic  palm- 
trees  whose  great  ribbed  trunks 
lean  in  all  directions  like  a 
procession  of  primeval  drunk- 
ards, and  entered  the  first 
street  she  had  ever  seen. 

The  electric  lights,  the  open 
shops,  the  variegated  dresses 
of  the  people,  the  hot  dirty 
stones  under  her  bare  feet, 
the  loud  chatter,  the  strange 
smells,  all  jumbled  themselves 
into  something  like  a  nightmare 
that  .  oppressed  her  senses. 
Johann  led  her  away  from  the 
thoroughfare  to  a  cheap  board- 
ing-house in  a  back  street,  and 
there,  after  a  meal  which  she 
scarcely  touched,  she  fell  asleep 
like  a  tired  child. 

"  We    shall    be    married    as 


soon  as  we  get  to  Veracruz," 
he  had  told  her,  and  she  had 
leaned  her  head  on  his  breast 
and  laughed  happily.  Johann 
was  as  much  in  love  as  ever, 
and  eager  to  have  the  cere- 
mony completed.  He  rose  at 
dawn.  She  still  slept,  and  as 
he  stooped  over  her  she  opened 
her  eyes. 

"  I  am  going  to  arrange  with 
the  priest,"  he  whispered. 

Half  awake,  she  put  her  arms 
round  his  neck  and  smiled. 
Then  her  embrace  relaxed,  and 
she  was  asleep  again. 

In  Mexico  there  are  two  forms 
of  marriage,  that  of  the  law 
and  that  of  the  Church,  and 
neither  recognises  the  validity 
of  the  ceremony  performed  by 
the  other.  The  legal  marriage 
is  a  civil  contract  to  be  made 
in  presence  of  and  attested  by 
a  legal  authority.  People  of 
good  position  in  society  who 
care,  and  can  afford  the  fees, 
generally  get  married  in  both 
forms.  The  vast  majority  are 
content  with  one,  the  religious. 
For,  if  the  man  is  often  in- 
different, the  woman  is  usually 
under  priestly  influence.  But 
among  the  poor  many  couples 
live  together  to  old  age  un- 
blessed by  any  ceremony  what- 
ever, and  yet  as  happily  and 
as  faithfully  as  if  they  had 
been  wedded  by  an  archbishop. 
Many  an  honest  Indian  has 
never  possessed  in  all  his  life 
the  three  dollars  for  the  fee 
exacted  by  the  cura. 

Felicitas  was  quite  indifferent 
to  the  legal  wedding,  if  she  had 
ever  heard  of  it.  She  desired 
no  more  than  the  marriage  in 


676 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


the  church  with  the  blessing 
of  the  priest.  Its  ceremonial, 
its  solemnity,  its  very  diffi- 
culties, in  expense  and  other- 
wise, endeared  and  enhanced 
it.  She  would  not  have  believed 
herself  really  married  by  an 
offhand,  republican,  business- 
like visit  to  the  shabby  room 
of  a  common  citizen-judge  in 
plain  clothes  and  in  a  hurry. 

In  the  Catholic  Church  mar- 
riage is  a  sacrament  adminis- 
tered at  the  altar.  Being  a 
sacrament,  it  requires  as  a  pre- 
liminary the  purging  of  the 
souls  of  its  partakers  by  con- 
fession and  absolution. 

Johann  had  thought  out  the 
situation,  and  he  first  went  to 
find  a  suitable  confessor.  Had 
Felicitas  gone  to  the  nearest 
church  and  knelt  at  the  grating 
of  the  first  confessional,  who 
could  tell  what  reproof  she 
might  have  to  bear,  what  pen- 
ance to  undertake  ?  Johann 
was  resolved  that  she  should 
have  the  way  made  easy  and 
suffer  nothing ;  and  he  knew, 
as  the  intelligent  Mexican 
knows,  how  to  manage  it. 
The  Scotch  millionaire,  when 
confronted  with  a  moral  or 
social  or  ecclesiastical  problem 
for  solution,  is  said  to  have 
begun  by  asking  with  the  prac- 
tical shrewdness  of  his  country, 
"  Wull  siller  dae't  f  "  And  in 
Mexico,  as  elsewhere,  the  answer 
is  seldom  in  the  negative. 
Johann  found  without  diffi- 
culty a  priest  of  the  sort  he 
needed,  gave  him  a  moderate 
present,  made  his  own  per- 
functory confession,  received 
his  certificate,  and  arranged 


that  Felicitas  should  also  get 
through  the  business  comfort- 
ably and  without  unpleasant- 
ness. He  made  an  appointment 
for  her.  The  father  performed 
his  part  of  the  bargain  like  an 
honourable  man,  and  the  happy 
pair  were  ready  in  good  time. 
The  complaisant  landlady  of 
the  boarding-house  came  to 
church  with  them,  and  brought 
a  neighbour  or  two  to  see  her 
guests  married,  and  to  share 
in  the  little  feast  which  Johann 
provided  afterwards. 

Somewhere  in  the  back  of 
Johann's  mind  there  flitted  the 
consciousness  that,  happy  as 
the  ceremony  made  him,  it  was 
not  legally  binding.  He  did 
not  cherish  the  idea  with  satis- 
faction, but  neither  did  it  revolt 
him.  He  put  it  aside.  No 
such  thought  entered  the  imag- 
ination of  his  wife.  Felicitas 
was  not  conscious  of  a  flaw  in 
her  happiness,  except  the  ab- 
sence of  her  mother,  and  that 
was  soon  to  be  remedied.  They 
were  to  go  to  the  plantation. 
She  was  to  be  house-mistress 
and  cook,  her  husband's  com- 
panion and  her  mother's  near 
neighbour.  Father  and  brothers 
would  be  at  hand.  What 
better  could  life  give  f  It  was 
all  to  begin  soon,  when  her 
husband  should  get  his  busi- 
ness arranged  and  take  her 
quickly  back.  And  meantime 
her  father  and  mother  knew 
where  she  was,  and  why.  But 
in  this  she  was  mistaken.  Jo- 
hann had  not  written  to  his 
brother.  When  he  did  write 
he  said  nothing  of  Felicitas. 

The     boarding  -  house     was 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


677 


cheap,  but  still  too  dear.  Jo- 
hann  needed  all  he  could  save 
from  his  salary  for  the  planta- 
tion. Wages,  food,  and  tools, 
the  cost  of  their  transporta- 
tion, and  many  other  inevitable 
expenses,  were  devouring  his 
savings,  and  all  Ernst's  grinding 
economy  would  not  hasten  the 
harvests.  The  coffee  was  not 
yet  bearing.  The  first  tobacco 
crop  was  sold,  but  the  money 
had  gone  to  liquidate  past 
supplies.  The  second  was  not 
yet  cured.  Johann's  golden 
prospect  was  yet  far  off.  He 
did  not  dare  to  tell  Ernst  that 
he  had  added  to  his  responsi- 
bilities a  wife  in  Veracruz. 

Away  at  home  he  would  no 
doubt,  like  a  thrifty  Holsteiner, 
have  got  Felicitas  and  himself 
comfortably  affianced,  and  then 
waited  patiently  on  fortune, 
if  needful  for  a  dozen  frugal 
years.  But  blood  is  warmer 
in  South  Mexico  than  in  North 
Germany,  and  the  circumspect 
Verlobung  does  not  flourish  in 
the  lands  favoured  by  the  sun. 
Johann  had  fallen  in  love  after 
the  tropical  fashion  of  his 
adopted  country,  and  every- 
thing else  went  out  of  perspec- 
tive, if  not  out  of  sight. 

Yet  he  had  imagined  a 
method  in  his  madness.  He 
had  reminded  himself  of  say- 
ings by  many-daughtered  ma- 
trons of  the  Vaterland,  to  the 
effect  that  one  roof  would 
shelter  two,  a  small  fire  warm 
a  person  on  each  side  of  it, 
and  that  an  economical  wife, 
instead  of  augmenting,  re- 
duces a  man's  expenditure. 
With  the  hearty  "  will  to  be- 


lieve "  of  a  new  convert,  he 
persuaded  himself  that  he  could 
live  in  Veracruz  with  Felicitas 
as  cheaply  as  alone. 

With  this  hope  and  object 
he  hired  a  small  cheap  dwell- 
ing, and  furnished  it  cheaply 
with  such  things  as  occurred 
to  him.  His  outlay  of  capital 
was  trifling,  for  he  made  the 
plantation  and  not  the  city 
his  standard.  At  Guadalupe 
the  house  would  have  been 
handsome,  at  Veracruz  it  was 
mean.  It  was  one  of  a  long 
flat-roofed  line  in  a  straight, 
level,  hot,  dusty,  evil-smelling 
street,  and  had,  like  its  neigh- 
bours, a  tall  heavy  door  and 
one  iron-barred  window  in  its 
whitewashed  facade.  In  Vera- 
cruz rain  and  wind  are  occa- 
sional and  temporary  incon- 
veniences, but  the  sun  is  a 
daily  foe  ;  and  if  the  houses 
of  the  poor  can  neither  be  made 
water-tight  nor  cool,  they  can 
at  least  be  made  dark.  On 
Johann's  house  the  compulsory 
whitewash  outside,  prescribed 
by  the  municipal  law,  had  been 
changed  on  the  lower  parts  of 
its  thick  walls  to  a  dirty  dis- 
coloured rotting  brown  by  the 
damp  and  the  street  mud  of 
the  last  rains.  A  yard  from 
the  door,  whose  outlook  was 
on  the  blank  walls  of  the  box- 
like  houses  opposite,  the  open 
drain  exhaled  the  fetid  odours 
of  its  stagnant  green  contents. 
The  incidents  of  the  burning 
sandy  street  were  the  languid 
games  and  quarrels  of  un- 
washed, sickly,  fly-tormented 
children,  the  passing  of  the 
charcoal-seller,  the  scramble  of 


678 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


the  obscene  carrion-vultures  for 
the  daily  offal,  and  the  fre- 
quent funeral  processions. 

On  the  first  morning  of  their 
housekeeping  Johann  took  his 
bride  before  daylight  for  their 
early  coffee  to  an  itinerant  stall 
close  to  the  station.  This  was 
at  some  distance  from  the 
house.  The  coffee  was  hot  and 
in  every  way  excellent.  They 
drank  it  by  the  light  of  flaring 
petroleum,  in  company  with 
some  of  the  poorer  passengers 
who  always  arrive  at  a  Mexican 
station  an  hour  or  so  before 
the  train  starts.  Then  he  took 
her  back  again,  for  the  sudden 
daylight  was  making  every- 
thing clear,  and  he  did  not 
wish  any  one  who  knew  him 
to  see  him  with  the  barefooted 
girl.  She  had  washed  off  the 
dust  of  the  journey,  and  her 
eyes  were  bright  again  after 
her  rest.  He  was  proud  of  her 
beauty,  but  she  must  have 
shoes  and  stockings.  Unfor- 
tunately one  pair,  like  one  roof 
and  one  fire,  would  not  suffice 
for  two  persons.  But  he  put 
away  the  disquieting  thought 
and  looked  for  a  shop.  They 
bought  the  shoes  and  stockings, 
but  she  did  not  yet  put  them 
on,  and  they  returned  to  their 
house  and  unlocked  the  door. 


"Now  I  must  go  to  work," 
he  said. 

"  Can  I  come  1  " 

"  No,  querida,  that  is  not 
possible  here.  But  I'll  be  back 
for  desayuno,  and  you  know 
you  have  to  cook  it." 

"  Ah  yes,"  she  said  with  a 
smile.  She  looked  around. 
Among  the  things  he  had  bought 
were  a  pot  and  a  frying-pan  ; 
and  the  house,  though  it  had 
no  chimney,  had  a  brick  fire- 
place with  a  hole  below,  through 
which  to  fan  the  charcoal. 
This  was  a  novelty  to  Felicitas, 
whose  experience  was  limited 
to  sticks  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  But  she  soon  under- 
stood. 

He  gave  her  a  dollar.  "  It 
is  eight  reales,"  he  said. 

"  I  know,"  she  answered 
proudly. 

"  That  is  to  buy  things,  what- 
ever you  like.  You  will  find 
the  shops.  They  are  just  round 
the  corner.  Lock  the  door 
when  you  are  out  and  take  the 
key  with  you.  Take  care  to 
remember  the  way  back." 

She  followed  him  with  a 
wistful  look  as  he  went  down 
the  street.  At  the  corner  he 
waved  his  hand,  and  then 
she  turned  to  her  domestic 
duties. 


vm. 


Felicitas  went  into  her  house 
and  shut  the  door.  Then  she 
opened  her  parcels,  and  looked 
for  a  long  time  at  her  stockings 
and  shoes.  She  smoothed  the 
thin  white  stockings  out  with  her 


hand.  Johann  had  got  her  a 
pair  with  an  open-work  pattern, 
and  she  held  them  up  at  arm's- 
length  to  look  at  with  a  happy 
little  laugh.  She  had  to  make 
a  hurried  journey  to  the  public 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


679 


fountain  for  a  pitcher  of  water 
to  wash  the  dust  from  her  feet 
before  she  put  them  on.  She 
admired  the  shoes  very  much 
too.  They  were,  like  the  stock- 
ings, of  the  machine-made  sort 
— pretty  trash  imported  from 
Germany  by  the  gross,  thin 
and  soft, — and  she  could  almost 
see  herself  in  their  lacquer. 
But  the  rainy  season  was  far 
off.  A  tendency  to  totter  at 
first  on  her  high  heels  did  not 
destroy  her  innocent  vanity. 
She  locked  the  door,  and, 
with  the  door-key  and  her 
dollar  in  her  hand,  stepped 
gingerly  along  the  street.  Her 
reboso  covered  her  head  and 
all  her  face  except  her  eyes, 
and  these  were  cast  down.  Her 
modesty,  like  virtue,  was  its 
own  reward,  for  she  could  enjoy 
under  her  lowered  eyelids  the 
sight  of  her  shoes  as  they 
peeped  alternately  from  her 
skirt. 

But  this  pleasure  did  not 
turn  her  head.  She  drew  a 
long  breath,  and  resolutely  gave 
her  mind  to  the  business  of  the 
morning.  She  called  to  mem- 
ory her  mother's  ways  and 
her  mother's  maxims,  and  the 
claims  of  her  father  and  her 
brothers  when  they  came  in 
hungry  after  working.  She 
knew  that  her  duty  and  pride 
as  a  wife  were  to  give  her 
husband  a  good  dinner.  After 
taking  careful  note  of  the  signs 
by  which  to  find  her  way  back, 
she  turned  the  corner,  and  saw 
before  her  the  busy  street  with 
the  tram-lines  and  the  crowds 
on  the  pavement.  There  were 
many  different  shops,  with 


what  seemed  to  Felicitas  vast 
quantities  of  things  displayed. 
She  was  timid  and  nervous  at 
first,  but  she  saw  other  women, 
some  of  them  girls  of  her  own 
age,  and  some  younger,  going 
about  unconcernedly.  She 
stopped  where  some  fowls  were 
hanging  all  alive  in  a  shop 
doorway.  Two  women  were 
entering,  one  stout  and  middle- 
aged,  the  other  as  young  as 
Felicitas  herself,  but  dressed 
in  such  clothes  as  she  had 
never  seen  even  in  dreams. 
She  took  her  courage  in  both 
hands,  and  followed  them.  She 
had  decided  that  the  dish  for 
desayuno  should  be  polio  frito, 
which  she  knew  she  could 
cook  well.  She  waited  in  the 
background  till  her  predeces- 
sors should  be  served. 

The  stout  woman  went  up 
to  the  hanging  fowls,  felt  one 
or  two,  turned  them  round 
heedless  of  their  squawkings, 
and  ruffled  up  their  breast 
feathers,  the  shopman  follow- 
ing her  proceedings  with  his 
eyes. 

She  put  her  finger  on  one, 
and  turned  to  him. 

"  How  much  for  this  ?  "  she 
said. 

Felicitas  moved  her  fingers 
over  the  dollar  in  her  hand, 
and  listened  anxiously* 

"  Four  reales,  senora,"  said 
the  shopman,  and  Felicitas 
started.  It  was  half  her  money. 
The  woman  laughed. 

"  Demdnio  !  "  she  cried.  "  It 
is  not  the  lot  I  want ;  only 
one !  " 

The  shopman  did  not  join 
in  the  laugh.  He  took  down 


680 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


the  chicken,  which  certainly 
looked  the  biggest  and  fattest 
of  the  bunch. 

"It  is  a  splendid  chicken, 
senora —  the  best  I  ever  had. 
Its  price  is  four  reales." 

The  woman  turned  away 
without  a  word,  the  young  girl, 
after  a  lingering  look  at  Felici- 
tas, following  her. 

"  To  you,  senora — one  mo- 
ment,— I  will  make  it  three 
and  a  half." 

She  did  not  stop.  He  fol- 
lowed her  to  the  door. 

"  Three  reales  !  "  he  said. 
She  hastened  her  steps. 

"Two  and  a  half!"  he 
cried,  still  following  her.  "  I 
swear  to  you  I  have  no 
profit.  I  have  a  loss,  and 
God  pardon  me  if  I  deceive 
you !  " 

The  woman  shrugged  her 
shoulders.  Then,  as  if  on  an 
impulse,  she  stopped. 

"  Mir  a,  nombre  !  See,  man ! " 
she  said,  "  there  are  a  million 
chickens  for  sale  in  Veracruz 
to-day.  I  will  give  you  a  real 
and  a  half." 

The  shopman  shook  his  head 
and  turned  back.  He  looked 
over  his  shoulder.  The  ladies 
were  already  walking  down  the 
street.  He  ran  after  them, 
carrying  the  chicken  in  his 
hand. 

"  Two  reales  !  "  he  cried. 
The  stout  woman  paid  no 
attention.  He  caught  the  fringe 
of  her  reboso.  "It  is  the  very 
cheapest,  the  very  cheapest ! 
I  will  swear  it !  Take  it  for 
two  reales ! "  He  tried  to 
thrust  it  into  her  hand.  The 
passers-by  glanced  languidly 


at  them.  Felicitas  looked  with 
wide  eyes. 

The  woman  stopped. 

"  Let  me  see  it  again,"  she 
said.  She  came  back  holding 
the  fowl,  examined  it  again, 
looked  at  the  others,  convinced 
herself  that  this  was  the  one 
she  had  chosen,  slowly  paid 
the  two  reales,  and  departed 
with  the  bird.  The  shopman 
accompanied  her  to  the  door. 

"  You  will  find  it  a  splendid 
fowl,  senora,"  he  said. 

"  Verdmos,  we  shall  see," 
she  replied. 

Felicitas  had  seen  with  both 
eyes  and  heard  with  both  ears. 
An  encounter  of  "  bluff "  be- 
tween buyer  and  seller  was 
not  a  novelty  to  her.  She  had 
often  watched  her  father's  suc- 
cessful chaffering  with  the  In- 
dians for  their  produce,  and 
had  learned  to  see  with  full 
appreciation  the  readier  lie, 
the  cooler  effrontery,  the 
steadier  nerve  prevail.  In  busi- 
ness, the  Mexican,  like  the 
Oriental,  lies — 

"  As  the  bird  wings  and  sings." 

He  has  in  his  language  a  word 
which  may  be  translated  shame, 
but  not  for  use  in  the  trans- 
actions of  the  market. 

Felicitas  was  clutching  her 
dollar  in  her  hand.  To  her  it 
was  a  large  sum,  and  it  was 
her  husband's  sacred  trust  to 
her  to  be  expended  wisely  by 
a  responsible  wife.  Timid  as 
she  was  in  the  new  scene,  and 
disposed  to  be  overawed  by 
the  magnificence — to  her — of 
the  city  shop,  her  confidence 
had  grown  as  she  saw  the 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


681 


shopman's  poverty  of  resource 
and  consequent  defeat.  She 
despised  him  a  little  as  he 
turned  to  her.  She  also  wanted 
a  fowl,  she  said.  The  man 
hastened  to  take  down  two, 
and  held  them  before  her  with 
a  smile.  Felicitas  knew  about 
fowls,  and  she  saw  he  had 
taken  down  the  poorest.  She 
put  them  aside  without  a 
glance,  and  pointed  to  the 
best  one  he  had  left. 

"This  one "  he  hesi- 
tated. She  had  seen  his  trans- 
action with  the  other  lady. 
"  This  one  is  three  reales." 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment, 
holding  her  dollar  tight.  Then 
she  drew  back  the  fold  of  her 
reboso  from  her  mouth,  and 
screwed  up  her  courage. 

"  A  real  and  a  half,"  she  said 
boldly. 

The  shopman  straightened 
himself  up  and  went  through 
his  programme  again — indigna- 
tion, remonstrance,  compro- 
mise, entreaty.  But  she  had 
witnessed  his  defeat  by  the 
fat  woman.  She  paid  a  real 
and  a  half,  and  carried  home 
the  fowl.  Then  she  had  to  go 
to  the  public  fountain  for 
more  water.  She  prepared  the 
fowl  and  put  it  into  the  pot. 


But  there  was  no  rice,  or  salt, 
or  tomato,  or  chile,  or  lard. 
All  these  and  bread  had  to  be 
bought,  and  she  was  forced  to 
lock  her  door  again  and  go  to 
the  shops,  with  less  satisfaction 
in  her  bargains  this  time.  Then 
there  was  no  wood  to  burn, 
and  she  had  to  get  charcoal 
from  the  seller  in  the  street. 
But  he  did  not  cheat  her  much, 
for  his  rivals  were  within  call, 
and  he  wanted  her  for  a  regular 
customer.  By  this  time  the 
sun  was  high.  Her  stew  was 
not  ready  when  Johann  came 
in  hungry,  and  only  three 
reales  were  left  out  of  the 
dollar. 

A  hungry  man  is  an  angry 
man,  says  the  proverb,  but  a 
husband  of  two  days  is  still 
under  bonds  to  amiability. 
Johann  had  patience,  and 
helped  her  and  cheered  her, 
and  heard  with  sympathy  the 
story  of  her  adventures.  He 
waited  till  the  stew  was  ready, 
and,  after  eating  his  share 
heartily,  pronounced  it  perfect. 
Then  he  kissed  her  and  set  off 
again  to  his  work,  leaving 
Felicitas  to  six  lonely  and 
vacant  hours  after  she  had 
washed  the  dishes  and  swept 
the  floor. 


IX. 


The  housekeeping  of  Felicitas 
improved  a  little,  but  did  not 
reach  the  level  of  success,  and 
Johann's  comforts  remained  be- 
low the  standard  of  his  bachelor 
life.  Nor  did  he  find  himself 
compensated  either  by  lessened 


expenditure  or  by  greater  hap- 
piness. He  was  still  in  love 
with  Felicitas,  and  content 
when  he  could  forget  every- 
thing else  in  her  company.  But 
cares  began  to  worry  him. 
Already  he  realised  and  re- 


682 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


gretted  his  folly  in  bringing 
her  to  Veracruz.  But  what 
would  have  been  the  alter- 
native !  A  long  engagement 
was  a  thing  as  unheard  of  in 
a  Mexican  ranch  as  in  a  Shake- 
spearian comedy.  After  the 
girl's  parents  have  consented 
it  only  remains  to  find  the 
priest.  He  might  possibly,  as 
he  told  himself,  have  married 
her  and  left  her  in  her  mother's 
house,  secure,  as  his  wife,  from 
Eamon.  Then  she  could  have 
joined  him  at  the  plantation 
as  soon  as  he  was  ready  to 
live  there.  But  that  period 
was  indefinite.  Ernst  would 
have  wondered  and  disap- 
proved, and  the  indispensable 
Eamon  would  have  been  made 
an  enemy.  He  would  have  felt 
himself,  and  —  worse  —  have 
known  that  others  thought 
him,  a  fool.  He  could  not 
endure  the  thought.  But  in 
his  madness  neither  could  he 
endure  the  thought  of  living 
without  the  girl.  Now  he  was 
becoming  sane  again.  The  res 
angustce  domi  were  applying 
their  slowly  tightening  screws 
and  pressing  him  back  from 
his  fool's  paradise  into  the 
actual  world. 

They  had  been  six  weeks 
in  Veracruz  when  Ernst 
wrote : — 

"  Storms  of  wind  and  rain 
continue  every  day.  Last  year 
the  rains  were  over  a  month 
before  this,  and  the  Indians 
tell  me  they  cannot  remember 
a  temporal  so  long  and  so 
strong.  I  am  short  of  men, 
and  the  excessive  wetness  of 
the  season  has  soured  the 


plants,  and  the  wind  and  rain 
have  dashed  and  smashed  them 
into  the  ground.  The  river 
has  risen  five  feet  higher  than 
it  was  ever  known  to  rise 
before,  and  has  swept  away  a 
large  part  of  the  fields.  Saa- 
vedra,  to  whom  you  advanced 
so  much  money  to  hire  men 
for  us,  and  who  was  to  be  here 
a  month  ago  with  twenty  men, 
has  not  turned  up,  and  now 
I  have  a  letter  from  him  in 
which  he  says,  after  a  long 
story  of  difficulties  in  getting 
them  (lies,  of  course),  that  they 
are  on  the  way  now — quite 
likely  a  lie  too.  A  fugitive 
from  down-river  tells  me  Mar- 
tinez has  just  got  a  gang  from 
the  same  man,  and  paid  him 
$5  a  head  for  them — our  men 
probably.  You  should  have 
come  with  them,  but  of  course 
you  could  not,  and  I  could 
not  leave.  These  contratistas 
lie  and  swindle  if  you  let  them 
out  of  your  sight.  Martinez 
was  smart.  He  will  save  his 
crop.  We  shall  lose  most  of 
ours.  I  need  not  say  we  work 
night  and  day  here,  heart- 
rending as  it  is.  I  have  no 
money,  and  am  still  reducing 
rations  and  expenses  all  I  can. 
Eamon  and  I  dare  not  let  one 
of  the  people  out  of  sight,  or  he 
would  run  off.  I  am  getting 
some  maize  on  credit  from 
Leandro.  Eamon  is  much  cut 
up  about  Leandro's  daughter, 
who  disappeared  at  Todos  San- 
tos. She  has  never  been  found. 
They  now  think  she  must  have 
been  drowjied  and  her  body 
carried  down  river  by  the 
flood.  Eamon  was  to  have 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


683 


married    her.      I    did   what   I 
could  to  help  in  the  search." 

Felicitas  could  not  read,  but 
Johann,  after  reading  this  letter 
at  his  office,  carefully  burned 
it. 

He  now  began  to  discover 
that  his  private  life  was  talked 
about  among  his  friends.  His 
pretty  housekeeper  was  made 
the  subject  of  jocular  con- 
gratulations. 

And  he  was  in  a  false  posi- 
tion with  Felicitas.  He  had 
posed  as  her  lord  and  master, 
infallible  and  omnipotent  for 
her.  He  could  not  bring  him- 
self to  confess  to  her  his  cares, 
and  therefore  she  could  not 
lighten  them.  He  imagined 
that  if  he  did  tell  her  it  would 
only  be  to  have  her  misery 
added  to  his  own,  and  accord- 
ingly he  had  to  listen  to  her 
natural  but  ignorant  demands, 
and  put  them  off  as  best  he 
might  with  subterfuges  if  not 
with  simple  lies. 

As  for  her,  she  was  too 
ignorant  and  too  inexperienced 
to  divine  his  troubles.  He  left 
her  alone  all  day,  and  she 
pined.  Her  neighbours  were 
kind  with  the  kindness  of  the 
poor.  They  helped  her  in  her 
housekeeping  difficulties,  and 
she  made  friends  with  their 
children.  But  she  did  not 
enter  into  the  Me  of  the 
street,  for  she  hoped  every 
day  to  leave  it,  and  all  her 
thoughts  and  plans  were  else- 
where. She  did  not  settle. 
Her  heart  was  in  the  forest, 
only  her  feet  stayed  in  Vera- 
cruz. Everything  she  did  was 
a  makeshift,  a  temporary  ex- 


pedient, good  enough  for  the 
moment.  Thus  she  did  not 
become  a  successful  housewife. 
She  was  neither  very  punctual 
nor  very  thrifty.  Till  she  came 
to  Veracruz  she  had  never 
seen  a  watch  or  a  clock,  or 
had  the  spending  of  any  money. 
Her  simple  clothes  were  made 
by  herself  or  her  mother,  of 
materials  bought  by  her  father 
or  her  brothers  on  their  rare 
visits  to  Carrizal.  The  reboso 
was  her  head-covering  when  she 
had  any,  and  she  had  never 
worn  shoes  or  stockings  or 
stays.  For  rough  walking  she 
had  had  her  home-made  cades, 
sandals  cut  from  a  piece  of 
raw  hide.  But  she  had  come 
to  Veracruz  barefooted. 

At  Guadalupe  she  would 
have  been  happy  and  efficient. 
She  would  have  risen  early 
and  lit  the  fire — in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  so  as  not  to 
endanger  the  house,  the  floor 
being  the  soil  of  Mexico — or 
perhaps  on  a  little  platform 
supported  by  stakes  driven 
into  that  soil  and  covered 
with  a  layer  of  earth.  She 
would  have  gone  down  sing- 
ing to  the  stream  with  her 
earthen  pitcher  for  fresh  water, 
ground  the  corn,  baked  fresh 
tortillas,  and  made  the  coffee. 
She  would  have  swept  out  the 
house  and  prepared  the  dinner, 
catching  and  slaying  a  fowl, 
making  soup,  and  frying  the 
chopped-up  pullet  or  turkey 
with  rice  and  tomatoes  and 
bananas  and  lard  and  chile, 
and  cooking  the  black  beans 
with  care  and  nicety.  And  on 
Saturdays  she  would  have  found 


684 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


time  to  go  down  to  the  river 
and  wash  Johann's  shirt  and 
her  own  skirt  and  chemisette, 
soaping  them  extravagantly 
and  beating  them  with  stones, 
and  starching  them,  and  then 
ironing  them  on  some  piece 
of  board  or  box-lid,  and  making 
herself  on  Sunday  morning  as 
lovely  and  fresh  as  a  rosebud 
at  sunrise.  She  would  have 
been  busy  and  happy,  and  yet 
free  and  at  leisure  when  Johann 
was,  interested  in  the  planta- 
tion work  and  understanding 
it  all — a  companion,  a  help- 
meet, seconding,  sympathising, 
ready  with  praise,  consolation, 
encouragement,  healing 

There  she  would  have  been 
a  partner  and  a  help.  Here 
she  was  a  superfluity,  and  she 
rapidly  became  an  inconveni- 
ence. 

The  days,  the  weeks,  the 
months  rolled  on.  Johann  went 
on  his  journeys,  though  not 
yet  again  to  the  neighbourhood 
of  Guadalupe.  The  season  had 
changed.  The  rains  were  long 
past.  The  sky  by  day  was  like 
a  burning-lens.  The  faint  short 
breeze  of  morning  scarcely 
abated  the  stifling  heat  of*the 
night.  The  water  at  the  foun- 
tain began  to  have  a  smell, 
which,  however,  Felicitas 
scarcely  noticed  among  the 
many  sickening  odours  which 
loaded  the  burning  air. 

One  morning,  as  she  set 
out  languidly  to  market,  a 
woman,  one  of  her  neighbours, 
standing  in  a  doorway,  saluted 
her. 

"  Buenas  dias,  senora,"  she 
said  in  a  mechanical  way  as 


their  eyes  met,  but  she  did 
not  smile.  Felicitas  saw  that 
she  looked  pale  and  haggard. 
Her  dress  was  untidy,  and 
her  eyelids  were  red  with 
weeping. 

Felicitas  returned  her  saluta- 
tion and  hesitated.  She  was 
afraid  it  was  not  neighbourly 
to  hasten  away  without  an- 
other word.  Something  in  the 
woman  attracted  her,  and  she 
was  herself  feeling  very  lonely. 
The  woman  pulled  the  scarf 
more  tightly  round  her  head 
and  throat,  and  choked  down 
a  sob. 

"  My  little  boy  died  last 
night.  May  God  preserve  you," 
she  said.  "  They  are  going  to 
bury  him  to-day." 

Felicitas  clasped  her  hands 
over  her  bosom  with  a  shudder 
of  pity. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see 
him  ?  " 

She  led  Felicitas  into  the 
house.  It  was  furnished  al- 
most as  scantily  as  her  own. 
A  girl  of  twelve  sitting  on  the 
ground  in  a  corner  rose  and 
came  forward,  and  shook  hands 
with  her  gravely. 

The  little  table  had  been 
covered  with  a  coarse  white 
cloth,  and  on  it  lay  the  body 
of  the  child  dressed  in  white, 
its  hands,  clasping  some  flowers, 
crossed  on  its  breast.  Where 
the  cloth  hung  down,  a  little 
scrap  of  coloured  ribbon  was 
pinned  to  each  corner,  and  a 
thin  piece  of  gauzy  mosquito- 
net  covered  all. 

The  woman  lit  a  cigarette 
while  the  tears  coursed  down 
her  face.  After  an  inhalation 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


685 


or  two  she  threw  the  cigarette 
away. 

"  Is  he  not  beautiful !  "  she 
said.  "  It  was  the  vdmito. 
They  could  not  cure  him. 
Yesterday  he  did  not  know  me. 
My  husband  has  gone  to  the 
Monte  de  piedad  with  his  tools, 
for  we  have  to  pay  the  medico 
and  the  cura  and  the  people 
of  the  cemetery.  The  patron 
will  lend  him  tools  till  he  can 
take  them  out." 

Felicitas  did  not  quite  under- 
stand. The  pawn-shop  was 
an  institution  as  yet  unknown 
to  her.  She  knelt  a  moment 
and  crossed  herself. 

"  You  are  a  stranger,  senora," 
continued  the  woman.  "  We 


also  are  strangers.  We  are 
from  Orizaba.  It  is  more 
healthy  there,  although  it  rains 
much.  It  is  just  three  months 
since  my  other  boy  died  of 
scarlatina :  may  God  preserve 
us.  Now  I  have  only  the 
girl.  I  pray  to  La  Santlsima. 
Perhaps  she  will  let  us  keep 
her." 

She  accompanied  Felicitas 
to  the  door. 

"  Vaya  con  Dios  !  "  she  said. 
"  There  is  much  fever  here. 
Perhaps,  though  I  have  prayed, 
it  will  take  my  little  girl  next, 
or  me,  or  Pedro,  or  you. 
Quien  sabe  ?  Who  knows  f  " 
Her  voice  was  dull  and  hope- 
less. 


x. 


When  Johann  returned  from 
his  journey  two  days  later,  he 
found  Felicitas  nervous  and 
scared.  She  told  him  about 
the  child,  but  when  she  named 
the  vdmito  with  a  shudder,  he 
shook  his  head. 

"  Not  the  vdmito,"  he  said. 
"  The  season  is  past." 

In  this  he  was  mistaken, 
however. 

The  vdmito,  the  tropical  dis- 
ease which  the  English  call 
the  yellow  fever,  has  a  peculiar 
habitat.  It  is  said  to  be  con- 
fined to  places  where  negroes 
have  been  slaves.  No  one  has 
fully  explained  why.  In  Vera- 
cruz its  special  season  is  the 
autumn,  after  the  heavy  rains  ; 
but  it  sometimes  stays  all 
through  the  winter,  and  right 
on  into  the  following  summer. 


Natives  of  Veracruz,  and  of 
the  coast  generally,  are  said  to 
be  what  the  Americans  call 
"  immune  "  from  it,  although 
typhus,  scarlatina,  and  other 
fevers  exact  a  heavy  toll  from 
them,  as  from  others.  Strangers 
from  other  countries,  or  from 
the  high  lands  of  the  in- 
terior, are  the  readiest  vic- 
tims, and  none  more  pro- 
bable than  people  who  revisit 
the  malarial  city  after  a  few 
years'  residence  in  one  of  the 
higher  and  cooler  parts  of 
the  country. 

This  year  the  vdmito  had 
stayed  to  keep  company  with 
the  other  fevers,  and  as  Johann 
passed  through  the  portales 
next  morning  and  stopped  to 
hear  the  news,  he  learned  that 
five  out  of  the  handful  of  for- 


686 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


eigners  were  dead  since  he 
had  gone  away. 

He  went  to  call  on  a  German 
friend  at  his  office,  and  was 
told  he  was  ill.  Next  morning 
he  was  dead,  and  in  the  after- 
noon he  was  buried.  Every 
day  he  missed  some  known 
face,  every  afternoon  he  saw 
the  funeral  of  some  acquaint- 
ance. But  foreigners  and  na- 
tives alike  seemed  apathetic. 
The  height  of  the  death-rate 
did  not  depress  the  spirits 
of  the  community.  Lives, 
like  fortunes  held  by  a  light 
tenure,  were  spent  with  a  light 
heart. 

In  the  city  of  Mexico,  the 
capital  of  the  republic,  away 
among  the  mountains  of  the 
interior,  society  drives  out  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening  in  its 
carriages,  and  the  beggars  stare 
at  it  from  the  pavement.  In 
Veracruz  there  are  many  rich 
people  and  many  poor,  but 
there  are  few  beggars,  and  no 
carriages  at  all.  Society  uses 
the  tramway,  and  it  is  the 
fashion  of  an  afternoon  to 
make  a  circuit  round  the  sub- 
urbs and  back  again  in  one  of 
the  uncovered  cars,  which  are 
like  railway  coal- waggons  with 
seats  all  round  the  inside,  and 
a  table  down  the  middle. 

Some  of  the  foreigners,  who 
are  compelled  by  the  exigencies 
of  their  business  to  remain 
in  Veracruz,  have  their  wives 
there ;  and  these  ladies,  cherish- 
ing the  memories  of  home, 
give  afternoon  teas  followed 
by  such  drives.  But  to  sensi- 
tive strangers  those  excursions 
are  apt  to  be  depressing,  for  the 


car-line  passes  by  the  cemetery, 
which  looks  nearly  as  large  as 
the  city,  and  there  is  always 
a  funeral  or  two  going  along, 
and  the  merriest  party  has 
sometimes  to  fall  into  the 
procession. 

Johann  tried  now  to  cheer 
Felicitas  with  the  means  avail- 
able. Sometimes  he  took  her 
on  the  car  circuit  of  an 
evening,  sometimes  to  join  the 
promenaders  in  the  Plaza  and 
hear  the  band  play.  It  was 
now  past  the  end  of  April, 
and  the  fiesta  El  Cinco  de  Mayo 
had  come  round.  This  is  the 
annual  commemoration  of  the 
5th  of  May  1862,  when  the 
Mexicans,  under  Zaragoza  and 
Porfirio  Diaz,  won  their  fam- 
ous victory  over  the  invading 
French  at  Puebla. 

The  arches  of  the  Paldcio 
Municipal  were  outlined  with 
electric  lamps  in  the  national 
colours — red,  white,  and  green, 
— and  these  gave  a  soft  efful- 
gence to  the  face  of  the  build- 
ing. There  was  no  moon,  but 
that  was  all  the  better  for  the 
fireworks,  which  showed  at 
their  best  against  the  black 
starless  sky — not  quite  star- 
less, for  one  great  planet  blazed 
overhead,  almost  outshining  the 
brilliance  below,  which  made 
other  stars  invisible.  The  big 
electric  arc-lights  made  the 
white  buildings  look  more  deli- 
cate and  pure  in  their  outlines 
and  whiteness  than  they  do  in 
the  garish  day,  and  the  con- 
volutions of  the  gay  and  motley 
crowd  in  the  plaza  were  like 
the  moving  views  in  a  kaleido- 
scope. And  this  kaleidoscopic 


1921.1 


Felicitas. 


687 


appearance  of  the  crowd  was 
not  due  to  its  colour  alone,  for 
the  thousands  of  people  moved 
all  the  time  in  four  distinct 
circles  round  a  mazy  mixing 
centre. 

Suddenly  a  new  noise  broke 
through  the  band  music  and 
the  babble  and  patter  of  the 
promenade.  The  glittering 
crowd  swung  back  at  one  side 
of  the  plaza,  its  circles  broken 
into  confusion.  A  drove  of 
wild  long-horned  Mexican  cattle 
was  being  hurried  down  for 
shipment  as  war-stores  to  Cuba, 
where  Spain  and  the  United 
States  were  fighting,  and  a 
bull,  mad  with  fright  and 
active  as  a  deer,  had  broken 
away.  It  darted  down  the 
street  pursued  by  half -negro, 
half-Indian  vaqueros,  swinging 
their  lazos  round  above  their 
heads  as  they  galloped  and 
checked  and  pivoted  their  clever 
little  horses. 

Johann  stood  with  Felicitas 
almost  in  the  way  of  the  beast. 
A  vaquero  threw  his  shortened 
lazo  cleverly  round  one  of  its 
hind-legs,  gave  the  end  a  quick 
twist  round  his  saddle-horn, 
and  made  a  half-turn  with  his 
horse.  The  horse  quickly 
leaned  its  own  and  its  rider's 
weight  against  the  sudden  strain 
on  the  thong,  which  became 


like  a  bar  of  iron  and  would 
have  swept  Felicitas  from  her 
feet  had  Johann  not  pulled 
her  instantly  aside.  Neither 
of  them  observed  the  vaquero's 
face  as  he  turned  to  apologise. 
He  was  Mauro,  Felicitas's 
brother.  He  recognised  the 
sister  thought  to  have  been 
drowned  six  months  before, 
and  he  recognised  her  com- 
panion. 

The  sudden  sight  was  im- 
printed on  his  memory,  though 
his  mind  was  not  agile  enough 
to  spring  at  once  to  its  full 
significance.  It  did  not  divert 
him  from  the  pressing  work  of 
the  moment,  and  he  was  im- 
mediately separated  from  them 
in  the  confusion.  His  brother 
Sebastian  and  he,  with  others, 
were  in  charge  of  a  herd  which 
Don  Pepe  had  sold  to  the  for- 
eign contractors  at  the  profit- 
able war-rates  of  the  day.  The 
cattle  were  to  be  delivered  in 
Cuba,  and  Mauro  and  Sebastian 
had  to  accompany  them  in 
the  steamer  to  Habana.  He 
could  not  spare  time  just  then 
to  think  of  his  sister  and  the 
man  with  whom  she  was.  But 
he  had  seen  them,  and  the 
sight  sunk  down  into  his  mind, 
to  return  to  the  surface  un- 
dimmed  when  his  work  was 
done. 


xr. 


A  fortnight  later  the  steamer 
from  Habana  brought  the 
vaqueros  back  to  Veracruz. 
They  arrived  in  the  morning, 


the  office  of  Don  Pepe's  agent. 
They  had  left  their  saddles 
with  him,  and  he  had  found 
a  stable  for  their  horses.  The 


and  the  two  brothers  went  to    agent  congratulated  them. 


688 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


"  You  have  done  well,  mis 
hijos,"  he  said,  "  and  Don  Pepe 
will  be  pleased." 

"  Si,  senor,"  they  both  said ; 
and  Sebastian,  the  younger 
brother,  smiled,  but  Mauro 
was  grave. 

"  The  horses  have  had  a 
good  rest.  You  will  return 
much  quicker  than  you  came. 
I  have  a  letter  for  you  to  take 
to  Don  Pepe,  telling  him  that 
the  cattle  have  been  safely 
delivered." 

"  Mil  grdcias,  senor." 

"  If  you  start  immediately 
you  can  sleep  at  Los  Naranjos." 

This  time  Mauro  did  not 
at  once  answer,  but  the  agent 
saw  that  he  was  preparing  to 
speak. 

"  As  usual,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  these  lads  want  to  have 
a  spree  before  they  start,  the 
young  fools." 

"  The  fever  is  very  bad 
here,"  he  said  aloud.  "It  is 
not  usually  so  bad  at  this 
season,  and  strangers  are  its 
easiest  victims.  If  you  stay 
you  are  very  likely  to  catch  it, 
and  very  likely  to  die.  The 
passengers  from  the  steamer 
have  already  gone  by  train.  I 
advise  you  to  lose  no  time  in 
leaving  the  town." 

He  saw  that  they  were  im- 
pressed. 

"  I  will  get  you  the  letter," 
he  continued.  He  went  to  his 
desk. 

"  Here  it  is.  It  is  very 
important.  Now  I'll  wrap  it 
up  for  you  in  waterproof.  I 
know  you  will  take  great  care 
of  it." 
Sebastian  stood  a  little  be- 


hind his  brother.     Mauro  did 
not  take  the  letter. 

"  Senor"  he  said,  "  if  you 
would  be  so  good  as  to  keep  it 
for  a  little.  There  is  some  one 
we  wish  to  see  before  we 

go." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  asked  the 
agent  sharply. 

Mauro  did  not  wish  to  speak 
of  his  sister. 

"  It  is  Don  Juan,"  he  said. 

"Don  Juan*  Which  Don 
Juan  f  There  are  many  Don 
Juans  here." 

Mauro  was  perplexed.  "  It 
is  true,"  he  said. 

"  Where  does  he  live  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

The  agent  looked  keenly  at 
Mauro.  He  was  suspicious, 
but  the  lad  seemed  honest. 
He  knew  he  would  gain  nothing 
by  impatience. 

"  What  is  he  like  ?  Is  he  an 
old  man  ?  " 

"  No,  senor,  he  is  not  old. 
I  think  he  is  a  foreigner.  A 
big  man  with  a  yellow  beard." 

"Eso  es!"  That  is  so," 
said  Sebastian,  nodding  his 
head  in  confirmation,  and  pass- 
ing his  hand  over  his  own 
smooth  face  with  a  descriptive 
gesture. 

The  agent  looked  round  his 
office  with  a  questioning  eye. 

"  Don  Juan  ?  A  big  man 
with  a  yellow  beard,"  he  re- 
peated. Veracruz  is  not  a  very 
large  place,  and  the  foreigners 
are  easily  known. 

A  clerk  raised  his  head. 

"Perhaps  it  is  Don  Juan 
Mayer  in  Kaulfrosch  &  Stich- 
ling's,"  he  said.  "  I  know 
him.  He  travels  for  them,  and 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


689 


visits  Don  Pepe's.  He  and  his 
brother  have  a  plantation  on 
Don  Pepe's  land." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Mauro 
eagerly.  "  His  brother  is  Don 
Ernesto." 

"  I  remember  him,"  said  the 
agent.  He  considered  a  mo- 
ment. Then  he  went  to  the 
clerk  who  had  spoken. 

"  Go  with  them,"  he  said 
to  him.  "  Don't  lose  sight  of 
them  if  you  can  help  it.  They 
should  not  stay  here.  I  want 
them  to  get  well  away  from 
Veracruz  to-day." 

He  turned  to  Mauro. 

"  This  gentleman  will  guide 
you  to  Don  Juan,"  he  said. 

"  Mil  grdtias,  senor." 

The  young  man  led  them 
to  the  warehouse  of  Kaulfrosch 
&  Stichling.  But  there  they 
were  informed  that  Johann  had 
set  out  on  a  journey  a  few  days 
before,  and  was  not  expected 
back  for  a  month. 

"  You  hear,"  said  the  clerk 
as  they  turned  away.  "  Very 
likely  he  has  gone  to  your  dis- 
trict, and  you  will  see  him 
there." 

But  Mauro  only  stared  at 
him.  He  was  thinking  that 
he  could  not  stay  a  month 
in  Veracruz.  On  an  impulse 
he  resolved  to  confide  in  the 
friendly  clerk,  and  ask  his 
advice. 

"It  is  a  girl  I  wish  to  find. 
I  saw  her  with  him  when  I 
passed  with  the  cattle." 

"  Carrai  !  A  girl !  "  said 
the  clerk,  looking  at  the 
brothers  with  curiosity.  But 
he  saw  only  anxiety  in  their 
faces,  and  he  added,  "  I  have 


seen  him  with  a  girl.    I  think 
she  is  his  wife." 

"  She  is  my  sister." 

"  Ah  yes,"  said  the  clerk. 
He  thought  for  a  moment.  It 
was  extremely  unlikely  that 
Don  Juan's  wife  should  be  the 
sister  of  these  cowboys.  But 
in  his  master's  interest  he 
wanted  to  get  Mauro 's  business 
done  and  to  see  him  away.  It 
was  plain  that  he  would  not 
leave  till  he  had  got  to  the  end 
of  this  affair. 

"  We  will  go  back,"  he  said 
to  Mauro,  "  and  find  out  where 
Don  Juan's  house  is,  and  in- 
quire there." 

At  the  warehouse  he  soon 
found  some  one  who  could  tell 
him  where  Johann  lived.  The 
distance  was  not  great.  They 
crossed  a  street  or  two,  and 
turned  down  the  wide  thorough- 
fare in  which  the  single  line  of 
the  circular  tramway  runs.  Far 
out  in  its  straight  level  distance 
they  could  see  the  high  walls 
and  arched  gateway  of  the 
campo  santo,  and  the  faithful 
clerk  did  not  miss  the  chance 
to  rub  in  his  master's  warning 
by  pointing  out  the  cemetery, 
shaking  his  head  the  while. 

"  They  are  very  busy  there," 
he  remarked.  "  The  vdmito, 
you  know.  It  does  not  attack 
us  who  are  born  here.  But, 
carrai  !  The  strangers  die  like 
mosquitoes." 

Mauro  listened,  but  his  mind 
was  fixed  on  the  purpose  in 
hand.  An  open  car  passed, 
followed  by  two  others.  It 
was  a  funeral  de  luxe,  one  of 
those  for  which  the  Veracruz 
Tramway  Company  hires  out 


690 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


funeral  cars  appropriately  deco- 
rated. The  three  young  men 
followed  the  example  of  other 
foot  passengers  in  the  street, 
and  stopped,  taking  off  their 
hats  as  the  mules  trotted  past. 
One  or  two  people  knelt  and 
crossed  themselves.  The  clerk 
recognised  some  of  the 
mourners. 

"  They  are  burying  Don 
Pedro  Eamirez  of  Cordoba," 
he  said.  "  He  came  to  sell 
his  coffee.  Yesterday  he  was 
in  our  office." 

Soon  another  procession 
passed,  this  time  a  small  one, 
and  on  foot.  The  white  coffin 
was  carried  on  a  kind  of  open 
litter  on  the  shoulders  of  four 
bearers  in  clean-washed  clothes. 
Two  or  three  bare-headed  young 
girls  in  white,  with  a  few  flowers 
in  their  hands,  and  one  or  two 
women,  followed.  That  was 
all.  The  passers-by  stopped 
respectfully.  Again  some 
women  knelt.  The  perfunctory 
salutation  was  repeated  along 
the  street  as  the  little  pro- 
cession passed  quickly  on.  The 
passengers,  after  this  becoming 
manifestation  of  decent  sym- 
pathy, continued  on  their  ways 
without  emotion. 


"  I  think  this  is  the  street," 
said  the  clerk,  and  the  two 
vaqueros  and  their  guide  turned 
a  corner,  and  found  the  ad- 
dress given  them. 

The  door  stood  open,  but 
no  one  was  within.  Two  women 
were  talking  a  few  yards  off. 
They  paused  to  look  at  the 
young  men.  The  clerk,  having 
entered  the  house  and  found 
no  one,  turned  to  them. 

"  Senor  as"  he  said,  taking 
off  his  hat,  "  can  you  tell  me 
if  this  is  the  house  of  Senor 
Mayer  !  " 

"  Si,  senor." 

"  Perhaps  you  know  if  his 
wife  will  soon  be  in  f  How  did 
you  call  her  ?  "  He  turned  to 
Mauro. 

"  Felicitas.". 

The  women  started,  staring 
at  them  and  then  at  each 
other.  Then  one  of  them  said, 
while  the  other  covered  her 
mouth  with  her  reboso  and 
turned  her  head  away — 

"  Ah,  senores,  Felicitas  is 
dead :  may  God  preserve  us 
all !  She  died  last  night.  Al- 
ready they  are  burying  her. 
My  little  girl  has  gone  to  the 
funeral.  Her  husband  does 
not  know.  He  is  away." 


xn. 

Mauro  and  Sebastian  his  had  done  their  work  faith- 
brother  kept  their  own  coun-  fully,  as  Don  Pepe  expected, 
sel.  They  returned  to  Don  Afterwards  they  had,  as  it 
Pepe,  carrying  with  them  the  seemed,  come  back  without 
agent's  letter.  Their  master  indulging  in  the  usual  carouse 
commended  their  success,  and  of  the  cowboy  in  town,  and  he 
they  asked  leave  for  a  few  was  pleased.  He  noticed  a 
days  to  visit  their  father.  They  new  gravity  in  the  lads,  in 


1921.] 


Felicitas. 


691 


Mauro  especially,  and  set  it 
down  to  the  effect  of  their  new 
experiences.  He  granted  them 
at  once  the  leave  they  asked, 
knowing  that,  being  Mexicans 
and  therefore  free,  they  would 
have  gone  without  it  if  he  had 
refused. 

Two  days  later  they  sat  on 
the  rude  bench  in  their  father's 
house.  They  had  told  their 
news.  Matilde  sat  apart,  her 
head  covered.  She  rocked  her 
body  back  and  forward,  and 
sobbed,  although  her  eyes  were 
dry.  After  a  long  silence, 
Mauro  said  quietly — 

"  I  will  kill  him." 

Matilde  straightened  herself 
up,  and,  drawing  down  the 
reboso  from  her  face,  looked 
at  him  with  wide-open  eyes. 

"  I  could  not  kill  him  in 
Veracruz,"  he  went  on.  "  He 
was  not  there.  They  told 
me  he  had  gone  away.  It 
was  true.  He  is  at  Don 
Ernesto's.  He  went  over  yes- 
terday. We  learned  it  on  the 
road." 

The  boy  Pedro  was  listening 
intently. 

"  I  saw  him  at  Guadalupe," 
he  said. 

"  Sebastian  will  come  with 
me,"  said  Mauro.  "  We  have 
made  the  plan.  I  will  take  the 
Eemington." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sebastian ; 
"  Mauro  will  take  the  gun. 
I  have  my  machete" 

Matilde  looked  with  dull  eyes 
at  her  husband.  Leandro  sat 
silent  for  a  while. 

"  Perhaps  he  will  go  back 
to-morrow,"  continued  Mauro, 
"or  if  not  to-morrow,  perhaps 


next  day.  We  will  watch  on 
the  road." 

He  turned  to  his  mother. 

"  Will  you  make  some  tor- 
tillas for  us  ?  We  will  wait  till 
he  passes." 

Matilde  rose  stiffly  up.  As 
she  went  into  the  other  part 
of  the  house,  Leandro  rose 
also. 

"  Wait,"  he  said  to  his  sons. 

He  went  and  sat  down  on 
one  of  the  logs  outside.  They 
heard  Matilde  as  she  began 
in  a  mechanical  way  to  light 
the  fire  and  prepare  the  maize. 
The  three  lads  sat  silent  a 
long  time,  Mauro  with  lips 
compressed  and  eyes  fixed, 
Sebastian  smoking  cigarette 
after  cigarette,  Pedro  the  boy 
watching  Mauro 's  face.  By- 
and-by  they  heard  Matilde  go 
out  to  fetch  water.  Then 
Leandro  came  in.  His  hands 
were  clenched,  and  he  was 
trembling.  He  sat  down. 

"  Go,  Pedro,"  he  said  to  the 
b°y  5  "  g°  out  an(l  watch,  and 
if  you  see  any  one  coming,  call 
like  the  pheasant."  He  turned 
to  his  elder  sons. 

"It  is  better  no  one  should 
see  you,"  he  said. 

When  the  boy  had  gone, 
Leandro  continued — 

"  I  saw  Don  Juan  there 
yesterday  too.  He  seemed  to 
try  to  avoid  me.  I  did  not 
understand.  He  kept  away  in 
the  tobacco,  and  pretended 
not  to  see  me.  Now  I  under- 
stand." 

"  Curse  him  !  "  said  Mauro. 

"  Your  plan  is  not  good," 
said  Leandro  in  a  low  voice, 
shaking  his  head.  "It  is  not 


692 


Felicitas. 


[Nov. 


sure.  He  might  go  to-morrow  ; 
he  might  stay  for  who  knows 
how  many  days.  He  might 
go  down  the  river  by  canoe. 
Quien  sabe  ?  " 

"  He  has  Don  Pepe's  horse," 
said  Mauro. 

"  They  could  send  it  back. 
Or  perhaps  Ernesto  or  Ramon 
might  accompany  him.  I  have 
considered.  I  have  a  better 
plan.  We  will  take  no  chances. ' ' 

He  wiped  off  the  perspiration 
that  stood  in  beads  on  his 
forehead.  Then  he  looked 
round.  They  could  see  the 
boy  fifty  yards  off  keeping 
his  watch,  and  Matilde  had 
not  returned  from  the  stream. 
Then  he  leaned  forward,  and 
told  them  his  plan  in  a  whisper. 

In  the  evening  they  quietly 
visited  in  turn  the  smooth 
stone  kept  for  sharpening  the 
machetes.  They  did  not  light 
the  lamp,  and  soon  after  dark 
Mauro  and  Sebastian  lay  down 
in  the  porch  in  their  blankets. 
About  midnight  Leandro 
aroused  them  with  a  touch. 

Don  Ernesto's  house  was 
only  the  Indian  hut  of  the 
district  built  on  a  rather  larger 
scale.  He  had  employed  the 
natives  to  build  it  for  him. 
Its  materials  were  those  abun- 
dant in  the  woods,  and  the 
only  tool  used  in  its  construc- 
tion was  the  axe,  which  the 
Indian  of  the  skirts  of  the 
Sierra  handles  with  the  skill 
inherited  from  countless  gener- 
ations of  ancestors,  who  used 
the  stone  hatchet  before  the 
Spaniard  brought  across  the 
ocean  the  knowledge  of  iron. 
Its  corner -posts  were  strong 


balsam  logs  ;  its  walls  slighter 
tree-trunks,  cut  to  lengths,  set 
in  line,  and  laced  together  with 
tough  vines.  These  poles  were 
only  approximately  straight, 
and  did  not  fit  closely.  They 
admitted  light  and  air  like  a 
bamboo  cage,  and  made  a 
window  superfluous.  When  the 
door  was  shut  they  kept  out 
the  horses.  The  door  was 
calculated  to  inspire  respect, 
for  it  was  constructed  of  sawn 
timber  formerly  the  sides  of  a 
packing-box,  and  had  hinges 
of  fencing  wire.  It  stopped 
short  of  the  luxury  of  lock  or 
handle,  however,  but  it  had 
a  large  hole  at  one  side,  through 
which  it  could  be  tied — from 
outside  or  in — to  the  door- 
post. But  this  convenience 
was  seldom  used,  and  when 
shut  at  night  it  was  generally 
held  so  by  a  stick  propped 
against  it  inside. 

The  lid  of  the  packing-box 
had  been  set  up  as  a  fixed 
table  on  four  posts  driven  into 
the  ground,  round  which  the 
boards  from  the  bottom,  rest- 
ing on  shorter  stakes,  formed 
seats.  This  was  the  only  furni- 
ture of  the  economical  Ernst, 
except  one  or  two  cdtres,  camp- 
beds,  trestles  with  canvas 
stretched  across  them.  These, 
each  with  its  blanket,  were 
folded,  and  leaned  against  the 
wall  in  the  daytime.  Johann, 
the  fastidious  townsman,  had 
brought  a  piece  of  cheap  mus- 
lin, and,  with  light  sticks  and 
a  string  from  the  rafters,  had 
rigged  up  a  mosquito  -  cur - 
tain  for  himself,  under  which 
his  bed  was  placed  when  he 


1921.] 


Felioitas. 


693 


paid  a  visit  to  the  plantation. 
Ernst  was  acclimatised,  and 
indifferent  to  such  luxury. 

Eamon  the  mandador  slept 
outside  the  door  of  the  galera 
with  the  key  of  its  big  padlock 
in  his  pocket. 

The  moon  had  not  risen, 
but  the  night  was  clear  and 
starry.  Leandro  and  his  sons 
reached  the  shadow  in  front 
of  the  door  of  Ernst's  house 
without  noise.  Leandro  knew 
how  the  door  was  fastened,  and 
he  pushed  the  blade  of  his 
machete  under  it  till  he  felt 
the  stick.  It  had  not  been 
carefully  set  up,  and  a  slight 
push  knocked  it  down.  They 
all  stood  still  for  a  while,  but 
the  noise  had  not  awakened 
any  one,  and  Leandro  gently 
pushed  the  door  open  far 
enough  to  admit  himself.  The 
others  followed  him  one  by 
one,  and  when  they  had  all 
entered  as  silently  as  spirits 
he  gently  closed  it  again.  Lean- 
dro had  neglected  nothing,  and 
with  a  piece  of  pliant  wire 
which  he  had  brought,  he 
fastened  the  door  securely.  He 
knew  the  fastening  would  be 
difficult  to  find  and  to  undo 
in  the  dark.  No  one  had 
stirred.  A  faint  light  came 
through  the  interstices  in  the 
walls,  and  the  keen  eyes  of 
the  men  soon  distinguished 
the  shapes  of  the  two  beds, 
Johann's  with  its  mosquito- 
bar  first.  Then  Leandro  whis- 
pered— 

"  Ya  !    Now  !  " 

And  he  and  Mauro  rushed 
on  Johann's  bed. 

VOL.  ccx. — NO.  MCCLxxni. 


Sebastian  and  the  boy  sprang 
swiftly  to  the  other,  and  with 
their  keen-edged  machetes  cut 
down  with  all  their  force  on 
the  sleeping  form  of  Ernst. 
The  wretched  man  awoke  with 
a  scream,  and  with  his  right 
hand,  which  was  protected  by 
his  body,  was  able  to  reach 
the  revolver  under  his  pillow, 
and  fire  it  blindly  even  while 
he  was  cut  down. 

As  Ernst's  scream  broke  the 
silence,  Leandro  tore  aside  the 
mosquito-curtain  from  the  other 
bed,  but  his  blows  and  Mauro's 
as  they  struck  were  slightly 
impeded  by  the  light  frame- 
work of  it  above  ;  and  Johann, 
terribly  wounded,  managed  in- 
stinctively to  slip  over  the  bed 
on  the  other  side,  and  tried, 
mutilated  as  he  already  was, 
to  crawl  away.  They  followed 
and  cut  him  almost  to  pieces 
on  the  ground. 

At  daybreak  Eamon  the 
mandador  found  the  hacked 
and  bloody  beds  and  the  man- 
gled bodies,  and,  leaving  his 
convicts  locked  up,  took  the 
best  horse,  Don  Pepe's,  and 
fled  to  the  Indian  village  for 
the  alcalde. 

The  scared  alcalde  came  and 
saw,  and  hastened  to  report 
to  the  higher  authorities  ;  and 
when  the  District  Chief  of 
Police  arrived  four  days  later, 
his  first  visit,  after  he  had 
viewed  the  scene  of  the  murder, 
was  to  Leandro 's.  But  of  his 
house  they  found  only  a  heap 
of  cold  ashes.  Leandro  and 
his  wife  and  his  sons  had  van- 
ished, leaving  no  trace. 
20 


[Nov. 


MUSINGS  WITHOUT   METHOD. 


LORD  ROSEBERY  S  MISCELLANIES — THE  DIVERSION'S  OP  A  PRIME 

MINISTER PEEL  AND  LORD  RANDOLPH — THE  IRISH  CONFERENCE 

— 'TALES  OF  THE  R.I.C.' — ULSTER  AND  SINN  FEIN — THE  DOCTRINES 
OF  A.  E.,  AN  ARTIST  AND  A  POET. 


THE  two  volumes  of  '  Mis- 
cellanies,' *  recently  published 
by  Lord  Bosebery,  might  well 
be  called  the  Diversions  of  a 
Prime  Minister.  With  a  light 
hand  and  an  easy  thought  he 
has  discoursed,  on  paper  or  in 
speech,  of  such  topics  as  did 
not  touch  too  nearly  his  proper 
craft  of  politics.  The  wide 
field  of  literature  is  open  to 
him.  Of  politicians  he  ac- 
counts none  his  fair  game  until 
he  be  dead.  And  the  result  is 
that  in  these  two  volumes  Lord 
Eosebery's  urbanity  is  undis- 
turbed. He  is  working  in  per- 
fect freedom  from  the  tangle 
of  party  strife,  his  own  master 
in  the  choice  and  the  treatment 
of  his  subjects. 

Lord  Bosebery,  being  a  Prime 
Minister  still  within  the  great 
tradition  of  his  office,  has  al- 
ways chosen  such  diversions 
as  belong  to  a  gentleman  and 
a  statesman.  He  has  not  been 
seen  playing  lawn -tennis  in 
public  and  within  sight  of  a 
camera.  We  have  never  heard 
his  name  even  dimly  associated 
with  the  game  of  golf.  When 
he  found  the  sport  which  should 
solace  his  leisure  and  lull  to 


sleep  the  turbulence  of  affairs, 
it  was  that  which,  as  he  says 
himself,  is  facetiously  called 
"the  sport  of  kings."  With 
excellent  humour  and  a  spice 
of  cynicism  he  took  to  the  turf, 
succeeded  twice  in  winning  the 
Derby,  and  was  so  far  dis- 
illusioned by  1897  that  he  was 
able  to  warn  aspiring  youth 
against  following  in  his  foot- 
steps. "If  I  am  asked,"  said 
he,  at  a  dinner  of  the  Gim- 
crack  Club,  "  to  give  advice 
to  those  who  are  inclined  to 
spend  their  time  and  their 
money  on  the  turf,  I  should 
give  them  the  advice  that 
'  Punch  '  gave  to  those  about 
to  marry—'  Don't.'  "  Yet  it 
is  certain  that  when  he  searched 
his  memory,  he  discovered  not 
a  few  compensations  in  the 
hazardous  pursuit  which  he  did 
not  commend  to  others.  What, 
indeed,  is  the  concluding  moral 
of  his  speech,  here  reprinted, 
upon  the  turf  I  The  famous 
Gimcrack,  he  pointed  out  in 
1897,  had  lived  one  hundred 
and  thirty  years  ago.  "  How 
many  poets,"  he  asked,  "  how 
many  philosophers — aye,  how 
many  statesmen  would  be  re- 


1  '  Miscellanies,  Literary  aud  Historical,'  by  Lord  Rosebery.     London  :  Hodder 

&  Stoughton. 


1921.] 


Lord  Eosebery' s  Miscellanies. 


695 


membered  one  hundred  and 
thirty  years  after  they  had 
lived  ?  "  How  many  indeed  ? 
And  especially  does  the  im- 
mortality of  the  statesman  hang 
upon  a  feeble  thread  of  chance. 
He  may  be  the  adored  leader 
of  the  people  while  he  lives,  the 
first  favourite  of  the  camera. 
Who  knows  but  presently  he 
may  survive  only  by  his  diver- 
sions ? 

In  the  old  days  when  politics 
were  the  business  of  gentlemen 
zealous  for  their  country's  good, 
literature  was  the  statesman's 
natural  diversion.  From  the 
time  of  Halifax  downward — 
and  perhaps  Halifax  was  the 
most  accomplished  writer  who 
rests  his  fame  on  politics — our 
politicians  have  delighted  to 
escape  from  affairs  to  the  hu- 
manities. They  have  read  and 
they  have  quoted  the  classics. 
They  have  ridden  literary 
hobby-horses,  sometimes  to  the 
death  ;  but  if  we  omit  Macaulay 
from  our  retrospect,  and  Macau- 
lay  was  merely  a  man  of  letters 
who  strayed  into  politics,  we 
shall  find  that  the  politicians 
have  not  left  much  that  is 
memorable  behind  them,  either 
of  verse  or  prose.  The  taint 
of  the  amateur  lies  upon  most 
that  they  touch.  Who  will 
ever  again  look  upon  Fox's 
'  Life  of  James  II.  '  !  Who 
cares  to-day  about  what  Mr 
Gladstone  thought  and  wrote 
upon  Homer  ?  He  who  would 
claim  notice  for  a  book,  be- 
cause he  does  something  else, 
will  hardly  secure  more  than 
a  momentary  applause.  Litera- 


ture is  a  jealous  mistress,  far 
more  jealous  a  mistress  than 
politics,  and  she  will  allow  no 
rival  minx  within  her  house. 
Such,  we  think,  is  the  view  of 
Lord  Eosebery,  who,  in  a 
speech  about  '  Statesmen  and 
Bookmen,'  contends  with  suc- 
cess that  books  and  statecraft 
are  incompatible. 

Exceptions,  of  course,  there 
are.  Yet  we  would  reject  at 
once  Lord  Eosebery 's  plea  that 
as  a  combination  of  bookman 
and  statesman  Mr  Gladstone 
was  unique.  Mr  Gladstone 
was  a  man  of  letters  only  in 
the  same  sense  that  he  was  a 
woodcutter.  As  Lord  Eose- 
bery points  out,  our  great 
Prime  Minister  was  not  one 
man  but  several  men,  and  the 
bookman  in  him  was  but  one 
of  the  many  amateurs  enclosed 
within  his  various  personality. 
In  literary  sense  he  was  al- 
most wholly  deficient,  very  far 
apart  from  Disraeli,  his  parlia- 
mentary rival,  who  found  the 
right  phrases,  if  not  always 
the  right  word,  whenever  he 
touched  paper  with  his  pen, 
and  who  was  before  all  and 
above  all  a  man  of  letters. 
The  truth  is  that  Lord  Eose- 
bery finds  it  difficult  to  ap- 
proach Mr  Gladstone  without 
his  due  meed  of  praise.  Yet, 
in  spite  of  himself,  the  praise 
seems  generally  perfunctory, 
and  we  cannot  but  think  that 
Lord  Eosebery  is  acutely  con- 
scious of  his  idol's  shortcomings. 
Mr  Gladstone,  it  may  be  ad- 
mitted, lived  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  books.  He  collected 


696                              Musings  without  Method.  [Nov. 

them  as  eagerly  as  did  his  there  still  hangs  about  his 
friend  Lord  Acton,  and  with  prose  something  of  the  pomp 
as  little  discrimination.  The  of  politics,  some  trace,  at  least, 
odd  volumes  and  old  periodi-  of  the  rhetoric  which  belongs 
cals,  piously  gathered  by  Lord  to  the  House  of  Lords.  Though 
Acton,  which  are  still  a  burden  there  is  nothing  that  is  slip- 
to  the  University  of  Cam-  shod  or  unforeseen  in  Lord 
bridge,  may  fairly  be  matched  Eosebery's  writing,  there  is, 
by  the  masses  of  printed  matter  on  the  other  hand,  not  much 
with  which  Mr  Gladstone  had  that  is  distinctive.  Of  few 
surrounded  himself  in  his  Tern-  pages  can  it  be  said  that  his 
pie  of  Peace.  hand,  and  his  alone,  could 
It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  have  written  them.  And  the 
we  must  exclude  Mr  Gladstone  paradox  of  his  literary  career 
from  the  Prime  Ministers  who  is  this,  that  he  handles  the 
have  worthily  served  the  cause  medium  of  prose  far  better 
of  literature.  He  has  left  when  he  deals  with  the  men 
behind  him  nothing  that  is  of  his  own  profession  than 
likely  to  excite  the  curiosity  when  books  engage  his  fancy, 
of  posterity.  Even  the  '  Glean-  His  diversions  are  more  high- 
ings  ' — there  was  never  a  har-  ly  diverting  when  they  touch 
vest — will  provide  little  sus-  upon  politics  than  when  they 
tenance  for  the  hungry  intel-  discuss  the  art  of  literature, 
lect.  And  we  may  fairly  as-  and  attempt  to  set  in  his 
sume  that  Mr  Gladstone's  lite-  place  this  or  that  artist  of 
rary  hobby  will  swiftly  pass  letters. 

into    forgetf ulness.      Of    those  This   is   no   more   than   we 

ministers    who    remain    after  should   expect.     A   writer   al- 

Halifax   and  Disraeli,   we   are  ways  writes  with  the  greater 

not  sure  that  Lord  Eosebery  confidence  when  he  writes  as 

will    not    hold    the    foremost  an  expert,  and  Lord  Eosebery 

place.     Books   have   been   an  does    not    easily    escape   from 

intimate  part  of  his  life.     If  politics,  even  though  his  mind 

rumour    speak   truth,    he   has  takes    holiday.     Moreover,   in 

made    a    noble    library.      His  writing  about  Peel  and  Lord 

reading   has    been   both   wide  Eandolph  Churchill,  he  writes, 

and   deep.     And   as   any   one  unconsciously   perhaps,    about 

may  see  who  turns  over  the  himself.     Their   struggles   and 

pages  of  his  '  Miscellanies,'  he  disasters   recall  inevitably  his 

has    an    accurate,    if    austere,  own.    As  you  read  his  appre- 

sense  of  style.     He  does  not  ciation  of  Peel,  for  instance — 

always   write   like   a   man   of  an  appreciation  pitched  a  little 

letters.     Perhaps   he   has   not  too  high  for  us — you  seem  to 

undergone  a  severe  enough  dis-  understand   something   of   the 

cipline  in  the  craft  to  obliterate  discomfort  which  overtook  Lord 

his  contact  with  affairs.     For  Eosebery  himself  when  he  went 


1921.] 


Lord  Eosebery  and  tiie  Nonconformists. 


697 


into  politics  under  the  auspices 
of  Mr  Gladstone.  Peel  grew 
up  the  willing  disciple  of  his 
father,  "  who  called  himself  a 
Pittite  when  that  name  was 
monopolised  by  High  Tories 
and  High  Protectionists."  In 
other  words,  "  Peel  found  his 
creed  prepared  for  him  with- 
out an  option.  He  was  sworn 
to  Toryism  before  he  under- 
stood the  meaning  of  the  oath. 
This  was  unfortunate,  for  Tory- 
ism was  by  no  means  congenial 
to  the  character  of  his  mind. 
He  was  a  representative  of 
the  great  middle  class,  com- 
mercially a  Liberal,  with  no 
aristocratic  prejudice  to  ham- 
per his  examination  of  any 
question  on  its  merits."  His 
contemporaries  saw  the  injury 
that  was  done  to  Peel  and  to 
the  country  when  he  was  per- 
suaded to  go  into  the  wrong 
pen.  "  Never,"  says  Greville, 
"  did  any  father  do  a  greater 
injury  to  a  son,  for  if  Peel 
had  joined  a  more  congenial 
party,  he  might  have  followed 
the  bent  of  his  political  in- 
clination, and  would  have  es- 
caped all  the  false  positions 
in  which  he  has  been  placed." 
That  is  true.  It  is  true  also 
that  if  Peel  at  the  outset  of 
his  career  had  proclaimed  him- 
self a  Whig,  he  would  not 
twice  have  acted  in  defiance 
of  his  party,  nor  would  he, 
having  once  rebuilt  that  party 
anew,  nave  destroyed  it  ut- 
terly, as  he  destroyed  it  In 
1846. 

Now  if  we  change  the  name, 
the  story  outlined  of  Peel  by 


Lord  Eosebery  might  be  told 
of  himself.  He,  too,  for  one 
reason  or  another,  became  a 
strayling  in  a  strange  party. 
If  Toryism  was  not  congenial 
to  the  character  of  Peel's  mind, 
so  Eadicalism  has  never  been 
congenial  to  the  character  of 
Lord  Eosebery 's  mind.  As  we 
envisage  his  career  to-day,  it 
appears  to  have  been  pursued 
in  a  wrong  field.  If  Peel  was 
a  representative  of  the  great 
middle  class,  assuredly  Lord 
Eosebery  was  not.  All  his 
prejudices  are  and  have  been 
aristocratical.  He  could  under- 
stand the  Nonconformist  con- 
science as  ill  as  the  Noncon- 
formist conscience  could  under- 
stand him.  He  marvelled  at 
the  blame  which  he  incurred, 
merely  by  being  himself,  with 
a  simplicity  which  showed  him 
no  suitable  companion  of  Eadi- 
cals.  With  a  naivete*  which  has 
nothing  to  do  with  middle- 
class  Liberalism,  he  has  de- 
scribed what  befell  him  when, 
after  a  quarter  of  a  century 
of  fruitless  trial,  he  won  the 
Derby.  "  What  was  the  re- 
sult ?  "  he  asks.  "  I  at  that 
time  held  high  office  under  the 
Crown.  I  was  immediately 
attacked  from  quarters  of  an 
almost  inspired  character  for 
owning  racehorses  at  all.  With 
very  little  knowledge  of  the 
facts,  and  with  much  less  of 
that  charity  that  thinketh  no 
evil,  I  was  attacked  with  the 
greatest  violence  for  owning  a 
racehorse  at  all.  I  then  made 
the  discovery,  which  came  to 
me  too  late  in  life,  that  what 


698 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Nov. 


was  venial  and  innocent  in 
the  other  officers  of  the  Govern- 
ment— in  a  Secretary  of  State 
or  a  President  of  the  Council, 
for  example — was  criminal  in 
the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury. 
I  do  not  even  know  that  I 
ought  not  to  have  learned 
another  lesson — that  although, 
without  guilt  and  offence,  I 
might  perpetually  run  seconds 
or  thirds,  or  even  run  last,  it 
became  a  matter  of  torture  to 
many  consciences  if  I  won." 

Such  has  been  the  misfortune 
of  Lord  Eosebery's  life.  He 
has  been  closely  associated  with 
those  with  whom  in  sentiment 
and  opinion  he  has  little  sym- 
pathy. It  was  but  a  makeshift 
when  he  represented  their  opin- 
ions. At  one  time  he  took 
refuge  from  his  party  in  Liberal 
Imperialism,  but  Liberal  Im- 
perialism, never  a  reality,  was 
merely  a  method  of  losing 
votes,  and  Lord  Eosebery  was 
constrained  at  last  to  plough 
his  lonely  furrow.  And  he 
was  driven  to  this  political 
solitude,  it  seems  to  us,  be- 
cause he  entered  the  race  of 
politics  carrying  wrong  colours, 
because  he  trained  in  a  stable 
which  he  neither  trusted  nor 
understood. 

The  best  of  all  his  writings 
is  indubitably  his  vivid  sketch 
of  Lord  Eandolph  Churchill. 
It  is  the  best,  because  it  is 
what  the  French  call  "  lived." 
Lord  Eosebery  watched  the 
career  of  his  friend  with  a 
discerning  eye,  and  shared  in- 
timately its  failures  and  its 
triumphs.  And  the  ultimate 


failure  of  Lord  Eandolph  dif- 
fered little  in  its  cause  from 
his  own.  Each  of  them  was 
fighting  for  a  false  cause,  and 
each  fell,  beaten  by  the  parti- 
sans whom  he  had  done  his 
best  to  defend.  "  Lord  Ean- 
dolph Churchill,"  says  Lord 
Eosebery,  "  was  half  -  aristo- 
crat and  half -Bohemian.  The 
aristocratic  part  was  in  his 
blood  ;  his  Bohemianism  came 
from  the  fact  that  he  was,  in- 
explicably enough,  if  his  home 
and  early  associations  be  con- 
sidered, born  and  bred  a  rebel, 
as  much  as  any  Bohemian  or 
rebel  against  the  accepted  and 
conventional  standards  of  life. 
He  loved  as  much  as  any 
Bohemian  to  shock  and  even 
to  outrage  the  commonplace. 
He  respected  as  little  as  any 
Bohemian  the  ties  of  circum- 
stance and  tradition."  There 
was,  in  truth,  something  which 
the  two  men  had  in  common. 
They  were  both  aristocrats ; 
but  while  Lord  Eandolph  was 
a  Bohemian,  Lord  Eosebery 
clung  closely  to  his  accepted 
traditions,  and  preserved  al- 
ways a  wiser,  surer  outlook 
upon  affairs  than  was  possible 
to  Lord  Eandolph.  Perhaps, 
as  the  politician  estimates  life 
and  its  rewards,  they  were  both 
failures ;  but  the  failure  of 
Lord  Eandolph  was  far  the 
greater — inevitable,  and  with- 
out a  remedy.  Thinking  only 
of  his  own  career,  he  spent  all 
his  gifts,  and  they  were  con- 
siderable, in  capturing  the  ma- 
chine ;  and  when  he  had  cap- 
tured it,  it  broke  to  pieces  in 


1921.]       Engaging  Portrait  of  Lord  Randolph  Churchill. 


699 


his  hands.  So  little  did  he 
achieve  that  it  is  wonderful 
he  should  still  be  remembered 
among  men.  Yet  it  is  not  the 
politician  who  survives.  It  is 
the  careless,  lightly  scrupulous 
master  of  the  picturesque  who 
triumphs  still  in  the  memory. 
The  qualities  which  Lord  Eose- 
bery  attributes  to  his  friend 
are  not  the  qualities  which 
make  an  efficient  minister.  We 
hear  nothing  of  Lord  Ean- 
dolph's  judgment,  or  of  his 
zeal  for  the  public  service. 
He  was  playing  a  game,  and  he 
knew  it,  playing  it  with  all  the 
energy  and  courage  of  youth. 
Even  his  gaiety  was  but  skin- 
deep  ;  and  when  Lord  Salisbury 
pronounced  politics  to  be  "a 
dirty  trade,"  his  verdict  was 
justified.  Here  follows  a  sketch 
of  Lord  Eandolph  drawn  by 
Lord  Eosebery's  friendly  hand, 
and  it  explains  the  politician's 
success  :  "  Eandolph's  person- 
ality was  one  full  of  charm, 
both  in  public  and  in  private 
life.  His  demeanour,  his  unex- 
pectedness, his  fits  of  caressing 
humility,  his  impulsiveness,  his 
tinge  of  violent  eccentricity, 
his  apparent  dare-devilry,  gave 
astonishing  popularity  to  his 
speeches.  Nor  were  his  phy- 
sical attributes  without  their 
attraction.  His  slim  and  boyish 
figure,  his  moustache,  which 
had  an  emotion  of  its  own,  his 
round  protruding  eye,  gave  a 
compound  interest  to  his 
speeches  and  his  conversation. 
His  laugh,  which  has  been 
described  as  '  jay-like,'  was 
indeed  not  melodious,  but  in 


its  very  weirdness  and  dis- 
cordance it  was  merriment  it- 
self." Thus  it  is  that  Lord 
Eandolph  presented  himself  to 
Lord  Eosebery.  It  is  an  en- 
gaging portrait,  and  we  cannot 
but  wonder  what  in  the  world 
these  traits  have  to  do  with 
politics. 

And  as  we  lay  aside  Lord 
Eosebery's  '  Miscellanies,'  we 
cannot  resist  the  conclusion 
that  never  again  will  a  Prime 
Minister  thus  divert  himself 
and  us.  From  the  Prime  Min- 
ister from  whom  we  suffer 
to-day,  from  all  possible  Prime 
Ministers,  whose  heads  emerge 
now  and  then  from  the  crowd, 
we  can  expect  nothing  which 
would  suggest  the  wide  under- 
standing and  light  hand  of 
Lord  Eosebery.  If  Mr  Lloyd 
George  can  ever  spare  time 
from  the  arduous  task  of 
wrecking  the  British  Empire, 
he  might  compose  a  pleasant 
garland,  entitled  '  Murderers  I 
have  Known,'  or  '  Parleyings 
with  Certain  Assassins.'  The 
knowledge  necessary  for  the 
performance  of  such  a  task 
is  assuredly  his,  but  we  fear 
that  his  hand  and  temper 
would  be  too  flippant  for  the 
job.  However,  he  has  at  last 
committed  the  last  act  of 
treachery  to  the  Empire.  Hav- 
ing persistently  declared  that 
he  would  never  receive  Valera 
and  his  gang  as  the  repre- 
sentatives of  a  Sovereign  State, 
he  has  now  greeted  Messrs 
Griffith  and  the  others,  who 
sit  comfortably  in  Chelsea,  hav- 
ing taken  no  pledge  of  loyalty, 


700 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Nov. 


and  free,  if  they  desire  it,  to 
impose  at  the  revolver's  nozzle 
their  views  of  disruption  upon 
the  trembling  Mr  Lloyd  George. 
The  newspaper  reporters,  agog 
at  any  new  thing,  even  if  the 
new  thing  has  come  over  to  de- 
stroy their  own  country,  make 
ready  "  copy  "  out  of  the  nice 
old  lady  who,  with  her  staff 
of  blue-eyed  damsels,  has  been 
despatched  from  Dublin  to 
show  Hans  Place  how  to  cook 
a  potato.  If  history  presents 
a  more  disgraceful  or  more 
cowardly  spectacle  than  this, 
we  do  not  know  it.  We  are 
meeting  upon  equal  terms  the 
murderers  of  our  kith  and  kin. 
We  are  listening  to  such  argu- 
ments as  they  can  present,  the 
arguments  of  the  bomb  and 
the  gun,  with  the  patient  sur- 
render of  men  ashamed  of 
their  cause  and  of  their  country. 
Meantime,  while  Griffith  and 
the  rest  engage  our  attention 
in  London,  Valera  and  his 
friends  are  not  idle  in  Ireland. 
They  are  setting  up,  undis- 
turbed, the  independent  gov- 
ernment upon  which  they  re- 
solved some  years  ago,  and 
which  has  received  little  or 
no  opposition  from  Mr  Lloyd 
George  and  his  colleagues. 
They  are  busily  importing  arms 
and  drilling  their  troops.  They 
are  establishing  their  own  courts 
wherever  they  choose,  and  thus 
making  the  proper  adminis- 
tration of  the  law  ridiculous. 
They  are  levying  tribute  on 
rich  and  poor  alike,  and  as 
their  tax-collectors  are  backed 
up  by  murder  and  arson, 


they  find  the  task  light  indeed. 
What  a  pitiful  mockery  it  is 
to  talk  of  law  and  order  in 
such  a  situation  as  this  !  How 
shall  we  characterise  the  cabi- 
net ministers  who  have  so 
far  humiliated  themselves  at 
the  call  of  the  murderer  and 
the  incendiary  ? 

Here,  for  instance,  is  Mr 
Austen  Chamberlain,  who,  with 
a  complete  lack  of  humour  and 
propriety,  still  calls  himself  the 
leader  of  the  Unionist  Party, 
and  is  apparently  ready,  hav- 
ing disunited  the  kingdom,  to 
hand  over  Southern  Ireland, 
not  to  the  Irish,  but  to  an  in- 
ternational gang  of  desperadoes. 
Will  he,  if  ever  he  visits  his 
electors  again,  continue  to  ap- 
plaud the  virtues  of  a  united 
Empire  and  to  insist  that  jus- 
tice shall  be  done  and  the 
wrong-doer  be  punished  ?  Or 
will  he  glory  in  the  oppor- 
tunism which  mistakes  fear  of 
the  pistol  and  the  bomb  for  a 
policy  of  righteousness  ?  We, 
unversed  in  the  sly  and  cun- 
ning methods  of  the  oppor- 
tunist, gladly  give  the  conun- 
drum up,  and  the  miserable 
constituencies,  no  longer  per- 
mitted the  freedom  of  repre- 
sentation, will  doubtless  ac- 
quiesce in  whatever  arrange- 
ments of  dishonour  are  made 
for  them. 

Not  long  since  an  amiable 
American  declared,  with  more 
than  a  spice  of  the  joy  which 
comes  from  the  contemplation 
of  others'  sufferings,  that  the 
old  Titan  was  weary  and  was 
putting  off  its  burdens.  To 


1921.] 


Mr  Lecky'g  Wise  Words. 


701 


call  Great  Britain  a  Titan, 
young  or  old,  seems  strongly 
ironical  just  now;  and  it  is 
only  fair  to  remind  the  anxious 
American  that,  if  the  Titan's 
burden  is  too  heavy  for  him 
to  bear,  that  burden  has  been 
monstrously  overweighted  by 
the  malice  of  our  American 
friends.  Nevertheless,  what- 
ever was  his  motive  and  what- 
ever was  his  satisfaction,  the 
American  was  in  the  right  of 
it.  Great  Britain,  which  to 
be  sure  was  a  Titan  once,  is 
laying  down  its  burdens  with 
what  speed  it  may.  How  it 
shall  stop  in  its  disastrous 
course  of  action  or  inaction  we 
know  not.  There  is  no  process 
so  rapid  as  the  process  of  ruin, 
when  once  it  has  been  begun; 
and  if  we  let  go  of  Ireland, 
which  is  in  a  sense  the  key- 
position  of  the  Empire,  we 
shall  have,  as  we  have  pointed 
out  before,  neither  the  force 
nor  the  argument  which  shall 
enable  us  to  hold  any  other 
part  of  our  once  well-governed 
and  flourishing  dominions. 

The  reasons  why  we  are  still 
in  duty  bound  to  rule  Ireland 
and  to  reduce  the  Irish  to  law 
and  order  are  familiar  to  us 
all.  It  is  useless  to  repeat  the 
wise  words  of  Captain  Mahan 
at  this  eleventh  hour,  because 
they  have  been  quoted  recently 
even  by  those  who  are  now, 
with  Mr  Lloyd  George  at 
their  head,  gaily  marching 
through  rapine  to  the  dis- 
memberment of  the  Em- 
pire. But  there  is  a  passage 
in  an  essay  by  Mr  Lecky, 


entitled,  '  Why  I  am  not  ^a 
Home  Buler,'  which  is  worth 
recalling  in  this  moment  of 
base  and  abject  surrender. 
Three  great  works,  said  Mr 
Lecky,  had  been  accomplished 
in  his  time,  which  far  tran- 
scended all  others  in  import- 
ance, and  they  were  all  works 
of  unification.  First  there  was 
the  great  deed  of  Cavour,  which 
fused  the  divided  States  of  Italy 
into  one  Kingdom.  Secondly, 
there  was  Bismarck's  vast 
achievement,  which  made  Ger- 
many the  most  powerful  nation 
upon  the  Continent,  and  which 
has  by  no  means  been  undone 
by  the  war.  Thirdly,  to  cite 
Mr  Lecky's  own  words,  there 
"  was  the  contest  of  America 
with  the  spirit  of  Secession 
which  had  risen  within  its 
border ;  and  although  that 
spirit  was  spread  over  a  far 
larger  area  than  Ireland,  al- 
though it  existed  over  that 
area  in  a  far  larger  propor- 
tion of  the  population  than  in 
Ireland,  and  was  supported 
by  an  immeasurably  greater 
amount  of  earnestness  and  self- 
sacrifice,  it  has  now  disap- 
peared, and  the  present  genera- 
tion have,  in  all  human  pro- 
bability, secured  for  centuries 
the  unity  of  the  great  Eepublic 
of  the  West."  Shall  we,  then, 
fall  behind  the  great  examples 
set  us,  we  who  pretend  hypo- 
critically to  admire  Cavour 
and  to  worship  Lincoln  ?  That 
is  the  question  which  Mr  Lecky 
put  to  his  countrymen.  "  Shall 
it  be  said,"  he  asked,  "  of  Eng- 
lish statesmen  that  their  most 


702 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Nov. 


prolific  and  most  characteristic 
work  has  been  to  introduce  the 
principle  of  dissolution  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  Empire  f  " 
Indeed,  it  shall  be  said,  and 
with  truth.  Mr  Lloyd  George 
and  his  toadies,  having  pro- 
claimed their  devotion  to  the 
Union  aloud,  are  engaged  at 
this  very  time  in  breaking  the 
bonds  of  Empire,  not  on  the 
plea  of  right,  not  even  on 
the  plea  of  expedience,  but 
on  the  plea  of  miserable  con- 
suming fear. 

When  men  act  by  fear,  they 
must  needs  prove  themselves 
unfaithful  to  their  friends, 
whom  they  sacrifice  with  a 
light  heart  to  their  bitter, 
hereditary  enemies.  All  those 
who  have  read  the  '  Tales  of 
the  E.I.C.,'  admirable  in  their 
truth  and  courage,  which  have 
been  published  in  the  columns 
of  this  magazine,  will  have 
noted  with  despair  that  the 
British  Government,  asking 
brave  men  to  go  to  their 
deaths,  has  supported  them 
neither  by  a  consistent  policy 
nor  by  any  continuity  of  pur- 
pose. As  the  author  points 
out,  the  politicians  have,  if  it 
suited  them,  kept  the  police 
and  military  with  one  hand 
tied  behind  their  backs.  When- 
ever the  Government  permitted 
the  pressure  put  upon  the 
rebels  to  be  increased,  the  gun- 
men took  to  the  hills  ;  and 
there  they  would  stay  until 
the  Government,  frightened  by 
questions  put  in  the  House  by 
rebels  or  the  friends  of  rebels, 
"  would  practically  confine  the 


military  and  police  to  bar- 
racks." How  in  such  circum- 
stances as  this  could  the  Loyal- 
ists hope  for  security  ?  They 
were  the  victims  of  the  vote- 
catchers,  who  blew  hot  and 
cold  as  they  listed,  and  cared 
little  or  nothing  for  the  gallant 
men  whom  they  were  bound  in 
honour  to  support.  And  what 
of  the  Southern  Unionists  and 
the  Irish  ex-soldiers  who  have 
been  harried  and  assassinated 
for  no  other  reason  than  thdt 
they  fought  for  Great  Britain 
against  the  Germans  ?  Are 
they  worthy  of  no  protection  ? 
No  :  not  if  their  safety  inter- 
feres with  the  whim  of  Mr 
Lloyd  George,  who  not  many 
weeks  ago  declared  with  the 
emphasis  which  to-day  none  is 
willing  to  take  seriously,  that 
he  never  under  any  conditions 
would  make  terms  of  peace 
with  murder. 

Thus  it  was  that  some  time 
since,  as  the  author  of  the 
'Tales  of  the  E.I.C.'  tells  us, 
many  young  constables  resigned 
from  the  force.  It  is  not 
strange.  "  They  were  certain," 
we  are  told,  "  that,  no  matter 
how  often  the  British  Govern- 
ment swear  to  see  its  loyal 
servants  through,  in  the  end 
it  would  let  them  down,  and 
the  pity  is  that  they  were 
right."  To  such  a  depth  of 
degradation  has  the  British 
Government  sunk,  that  it  will 
not  defend  or  protect  those 
who  have  accepted  commis- 
sions at  its  hands,  and  the 
gagged  population  of  the  Unit- 
ed Kingdom  stands  speechless, 


1921.] 


Ulster  and  Sinn  Fein. 


703 


while  its  honour  is  sold  for  a 
few  months  or  a  few  years 
more  of  profitable  office.  His- 
tory will  in  due  time  pillory 
the  miscreants,  and  the  pillory 
will  do  them  no  harm.  For 
they  are  opportunists  one  and 
all,  who  live  in  the  moment, 
and  have  as  little  care  for  their 
own  reputation  as  for  the  dig- 
nity of  Britain.  But,  happily 
for  us,  Ulster  remains  firm. 
The  Sinn  Feiners,  flushed  with 
the  easy  victory  which  the 
British  politicians  have  pro- 
cured for  them,  are  deter- 
mined not  to  yield  to  Ulster 
the  political  independence  which 
they  demand  for  themselves. 
Ulster,  they  have  announced 
in  their  cheerful  way,  must  be 
compelled  to  come  to  heel, 
either  by  the  boycott  or  the 
bullet.  But  the  men  of  Ulster 
are  not  disposed  to  surrender, 
as  Mr  Lloyd  George  and  the 
Lord  Chancellor,  once  a  famous 
"  galloper,"  have  surrendered, 
to  the  international  gang"which 
pretends  to  speak  for  Ireland. 
Sir  James  Craig,  at  any  rate, 
will  not  sell  his  country  merely 
to  get  Mr  Lloyd  George  out 
of  rthe  hole  into  which  fear 
has  plunged  him.  After  what 
has  happened  since  July  we 
can  imagine  no  demand  made 
by  the  Sinn  Feiners  which 
Mr  Lloyd  George  would  re- 
ject. Nor  does  there  seem 
any  sound  reason  why,  with 
its  past  record,  the  British 
Government  should  be  at  the 
pains  to  keep  the  pledge  which 
again  and  again  it  has  given  to 
Ulster.  If  the  conference  does 


not  break  down,  then  Ulster 
will  be  invited  to  join  the 
foreigners  who  misrepresent 
Southern  Ireland,  or  will  be 
left  to  its  own  resources.  Ulster 
is  ready  for  whatever  fate  holds 
in  store  for  her.  Sir  James 
Craig  has  the  confidence  of  the 
men  and  women  of  the  six 
counties,  and,  as  he  says  him- 
self, "  he  will  stick  to  them  to 
the  bitter  end,  no  matter  what 
that  end  may  be."  Above  all, 
he  refuses  to  surrender.  "  Some 
people,"  says  he,  "  seem  to 
think  that  the  only  way  to 
get  peace  is  for  Ulster  to  give 
way  in  some  direction.  They 
seem  to  think  that  Ulster  is 
like  a  mouse  nibbling  at  a 
cheese.  It  doesn't  make  much 
impression  at  first,  but  if  we 
leave  it  for  months  the  whole 
cheese  has  gone  by  nibbling. 
I  say  Ulster  is  not  a  cheese  to 
be  nibbled  at.  It  is  a  rock  of 
granite  that  will  break  the 
teeth  of  those  men  that  attempt 
to  bite  it,  whether  they  are 
Sinn  Feiners  or  others." 

As  he  and  his  supporters 
have  no  desire  to  interfere 
with  the  Sinn  Feiners,  so  they 
are  resolved  that  the  Sinn 
Feiners  shall  not  blackmail 
them,  with  bomb  and  machine- 
gun,  into  submission.  They 
have  made  their  plans,  and 
when  Mr  Lloyd  George  and  the 
Sinn  Feiners  have  finished  talk- 
ing they  will  know  what  to 
do.  There  is  a  passage  in  3ir 
James  Craig's  speech,  delivered 
at  Belfast,  which  should  le 
remembered  by  all  who  care  for 
the  future  of  the  British  Em- 


704 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Nov. 


pire,  and  who  are  not  content 
to  leave  the  national  welfare  in 
the  dubious  hands  of  Mr  Lloyd 
George.  Some  there  are  who 
have  been  nervous  lest  at  the 
breakdown  of  the  conference 
Ulster  should  be  forcibly  over- 
whelmed. Of  this  there  is  no 
risk.  "  I  can  give  you  my 
word,"  says  Sir  James  Craig, 
"  that  if  peace  negotiations 
break  down,  and  if  trouble 
is  anticipated  from  that  event, 
I  and  my  advisers  have  taken 
every  precaution  to  meet  that 
eventuality.  You  need  not 
be  at  all  afraid.  We  are  just 
as  able  to  prepare  our  plans 
as  Sinn  Fein,  and  we  would 
be  wanting  in  our  duty  if  we 
allowed  them  to  sweep  over 
our  fair  province  and  take  away 
one  single  thing  that  we  trea- 
sure as  a  blessing  of  that 
Empire  of  which  we  are  so 
proud."  Here,  indeed,  we  have 
some  assurance  that  justice 
will  not  wholly  be  forgotten. 
Both  the  British  Government 
and  Sinn  Fein,  firmly  believing 
that  assassination  is  a  proper 
weapon  of  politics,  have  cast 
from  them  all  sense  of  right 
and  wrong.  Once  more  Ulster 
has  come  forth  to  declare  that 
murder  is  not  the  sole  arbiter 
of  policy,  and  that  she  has  no 
intention  of  leaving  the  United 
Kingdom  and  the  Empire  to 
which  she  belongs. 

Meanwhile  Sinn  Fein  has 
come  upon  the  world  as  a  moral 
blight.  Wherever  the  blight  has 
fallen  it  has  poisoned  the  judg- 
ment of  those  whom  it  has 
besmirched.  Hitherto  it  has 


been  held  a  sin  to  take  human 
life  wantonly  and  with  torture. 
To  the  Sinn  Feiner  murder  is 
the  first  of  the  virtues,  an 
obligation  enforced  by  the  pis- 
tol upon  those  who  are  un- 
willing to  acquiesce  in  a  well- 
paid  opportunity.  Once  upon 
a  time  the  murder  of  old  ladies, 
the  kidnapping  of  children  and 
old  men,  were  not  considered 
the  acts  of  heroes.  The  Sinn 
Feiners,  with  the  complete  ac- 
quiescence of  the  British  Gov- 
ernment, have  changed  the 
ancient  standards,  and  not 
merely  applaud  acts  of  cruelty 
and  torture,  but  handsomely 
reward  them.  They  who  once 
seemed  sane  became  madmen 
(or  worse)  at  the  mere  contact 
with  Sinn  Fein.  Here,  for 
instance,  is  the  writer,  who 
calls  himself  A.  E.,  expanding 
his  doctrines  in  a  pamphlet, 
'  The  Inner  and  the  Outer 
Ireland.'  A.  E.  has  nothing 
of  the  Gael  about  him.  He  is 
a  Protestant  from  the  North, 
and  yet  he  can  write  with 
cold  admiration  of  the  aston- 
ishing enterprise  of  Easter 
Week,  1916,  "  that  devil's  brew 
of  murder  and  treachery."  He 
bows  his  knee  in  humility  when 
he  thinks  of  what  moved  Pearse 
and  of  what  animates  his  suc- 
cessors. "  The  average  man," 
he  says,  "  may  not  guess  the 
thoughts  which  move  the 
mightier  of  his  kind,  but  the 
same  elements  are  in  his  being, 
and  he  obeys  the  call  when  ifc 
is  made."  That  is  how  the 
sentimentalist  envisages  the 
gunmen  and  the  corner-boys 


1921.]  The  Doctrines  of  A.  E.,  Artist  and  Poet. 


705 


who  have  made  Ireland  a 
shambles.  Perhaps  the  highly 
cultivated  A.  B.,  who  boasts 
himself  an  Internationalist, 
thinks  that  Englishmen  were 
born  but  to  be  slaughtered, 
and  that  policemen  are  fair 
game  for  Sadie  harridans  to 
try  their  hands  upon. 

A.  E.  amiably  confesses  that 
he  knows  nothing  of  the  people 
of  Ireland,  and  that  only  the 
fool  is  dogmatic.  Thereafter  he 
dogmatises  with  all  the  rancour 
of  the  ignorant,  and  packs 
his  pamphlet  with  "  facts  "  and 
figures,  which  have  been  proved 
false  a  dozen  times.  And 
though  he  is  lost  in  admiration 
of  the  men  who  are  guilty  of 
arson  and  murder,  he  admits 
that  he  has  no  grievance  him- 
self. He  is  a  true  ' '  intellectual, ' ' 
superior  to  the  moral  standards 
of  the  ages.  He  enwraps  him- 
self in  a  cloak  of  virtue  and 
exclusiveness,  which  others,  less 
fortunate  than  he,  dare  not 
wear.  And  at  the  same  time 
he  blesses  these  others  as  they 
go  forth  on  their  errands  of 
assassination.  "  For  myself," 
he  boasts,  "I  do  not  care 
whether  I  am  governed  from 
Moscow  or  Pekin  if  my  coun- 
trymen are  happy."  Does  he 
then  believe  that  the  hunt  for 
"  happiness  "  justifies  death 
and  torture  ?  "I  am  by  pro- 
fession," thus  he  proceeds,  "  an 
artist  and  a  man  of  letters, 
and  I  find  the  consolation  of 
life  in  things  with  which  Gov- 
ernments cannot  interfere,  in 
the  light  and  beauty  the  earth 
puts  forth  for  her  children." 


What  kind  of  cant  is  this, 
which  cries  out  for  "  a  brother- 
hood of  humanity,"  and  then 
extols  those  who  in  cold  blood 
tear  from  the  light  and  beauty 
of  the  earth  men  who  are 
doing  their  duty  ?  "  And 
again,"  says  he,  "  the  words 
'  republic  '  or  '  empire  '  are 
opaque  words  to  me.  I  cannot 
see  through  them  to  any  beauty 
or  majesty  to  which  they  in- 
evitably lead.  But  I  do  be- 
lieve in  freedom."  See,  then, 
how  this  intellectual  entangles 
himself  in  his  argument !  "  Be- 
public  "  and  "  empire  "  are 
opaque  words  to  him,  and  yet 
he  reverences  the  bloodthirsty 
miscreants  who  for  those 
opaque  words  are  killing  gal- 
lant men  who  have  done  them 
no  injury.  And  if  A.  E. 
believes  in  freedom,  can  he 
define  any  kind  of  freedom 
which  has  been  withheld  from 
the  Irish  ?  If  by  freedom  he 
means  political  freedom,  then 
the  Irish  have  had  more  than 
their  share  of  it  for  a  hundred 
years.  If  by  freedom  he  means 
personal  freedom,  can  he  show 
us  where  the  Irishman  is  ham- 
pered in  his  goings  and  com- 
ings ?  If  by  freedom  he  means 
freedom  to  do  wrong,  to  break 
the  law,  then  surely  no  race 
has  been  left  so  gloriously 
untrammelled  as  the  Irish  since 
the  world  began.  It  is  probable 
that  A.  E.  doesn't  know  what 
he  means.  He  is  too  great  an 
artist  to  explain  or  to  under- 
stand. But  here  is  murder 
afoot,  and  his  countrymen  he 
perceives  to  be  men  of  "  will  "  ; 


706 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Nov.  1921. 


so  he  throws  up  his  hat  with 
the  big  crowd  and  shouts  for 
freedom.  And  if,  after  all, 
the  Irish — "  they  are  like  the 
Greeks  before  Pericles  " — get 
their  independence,  and  are 
forced  to  betake  themselves 
from  London,  where  they  have 
been  profitably  employed,  it 
will  be  a  sorry  mob  which 


returns  to  the  land  of  freedom 
with  empty  pockets.  For  not 
even  the  gunmen — "  so  cheer- 
ful, so  determined,  so  self- 
sacrificing  " — can  be  at  one 
and  the  same  time  the  fellow- 
citizen  of  the  Englishman  who 
is  worth  robbing,  and  of 
Phidias,  Sophocles,  Plato,  and 
A.  E. 


Printed  by  William  Blaokwood  and  Sons. 


BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE. 


No.  MCCLXXIV.        DECEMBEE  1921. 


VOL.  OCX. 


AN  ENGLISHWOMAN'S   EXPEEIENCES   IN 
BOLSHEVIK   PEISONS. 

BY   L.    BOWLER. 


I. 


I  WENT  to  Eussia  in  July 
1914  to  take  a  post  as  "  li- 
seuse "  with  a  Polish  lady. 
On  the  outbreak  of  war  I 
wished  to  return  to  Vienna, 
but  as  the  Woloczysk  Bridge 
was  blown  up,  all  connection 
with  Austria  was,  for  me,  at 
an  end.  I  determined  there- 
fore to  take  a  position  as 
teacher  in  another  family,  but 
as  the  Germans  were  advanc- 
ing, left  them  in  July  1915 
for  Moscow.  On  2nd  March 
1917  the  revolution  began,  all 
the  police  were  arrested,  and 
the  prisons  thrown  open.  Hav- 
ing seen  the  curtain  rise  on  the 
Eed  Terror,  I  was  determined 
to  see  it  fall,  and  in  spite  of 
the  danger  of  being  shot  at 
any  moment,  I  lived  in  Moscow 
till  March  1919,  when  I  was 
forced  to  leave  through  lack 
of  food.  Accordingly  I  went 

VOL.   COX. — NO.    MCCLXXIV. 


to  a  little  Polish  village  in 
White  Eussia,  where  I  had 
some  acquaintances.  When  the 
Poles  advanced  I  managed, 
with  great  difficulty,  to  escape 
over  the  frontier  to  Beresina, 
where  I  took  a  position  as 
head-mistress  in  a  Polish  higher- 
grade  school,  held  in  Count 
Potocki's  palace. 

After  the  failure  of  the  Bol- 
sheviks to  recapture  Beresina, 
they  took  up  their  headquar- 
ters about  forty  versts  distant. 
I  was  very  anxious  about  my 
friends  in  M.  The  Bolsheviks 
had  taken  everything  from 
them.  We  did  not  want  for 
anything  on  the  front,  and  it 
grieved  me  very  much  that 
I  was  powerless  to  aid  them. 
They  suffered  especially  from 
want  of  salt.  I  did  not  taste 
salt  once  during  the  eight 
months  I  spent  at  M. :  one 

2D 


708    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


could  not  buy  it  for  any  money 
at  that  time. 

Suddenly  one  day  the  news 
was  brought  to  us  that  the 
Bolsheviks  had  destroyed  the 
village  of  M.  by  fire,  and  that 
the  villagers  were  homeless. 
Although  the  Poles  had  never 
trespassed  farther  than  twenty 
versts  on  the  Eed  territory, 
our  Commander,  a  very  in- 
trepid young  man,  resolved  to 
make  an  expedition  to  M., 
and  to  bring  the  villagers  back 
to  Beresina.  As  I  had  left 
several  boxes  there,  I  was  most 
anxious  to  join  this  relief  expe- 
dition. The  Commander  tried  to 
dissuade  me,  but  I  was  firm  in 
my  resolution.  He  lent  me  the 
uniform  of  a  Poznanski  soldier, 
so  that  in  case  of  a  rencontre 
with  the  Bolsheviks,  I  should 
not  be  conspicuous  in  female 
garb.  I  did  not  fancy  myself 
as  a  soldier  at  all,  but  it  was 
certainly  the  most  practical 
form  of  dress  for  the  journey 
we  subsequently  made.  Fif- 
teen minutes  before  our  de- 
parture a  soldier  was  sent  to 
inform  me  that  I  must  be 
ready,  and  bound  me  to  the 
strictest  secrecy.  Accordingly, 
at  11  P.M.  on  31st  March  1920, 
I  started  out  on  the  journey 
which  proved  to  be  the  means 
of  mining  my  whole  career, 
undermining  my  health,  and, 
in  fact,  upsetting  my  whole 
life.  I  think  I  have  been 
endowed  with  more  than  my 
share  of  love  for  adventure, 
but  I  believe  if  I  could 
have  foreseen  what  would 
be  the  sequence,  I  should 
have  allowed  prudence  to 


guide  me.  We  were  a  party 
of  120,  and  the  soldiers  sang 
gaily  as  we  rowed  across  the 
river.  Arrived  on  the  other 
side,  they  formed  fours,  and 
then  the  Commander  made  a 
nice  little  speech.  He  exhorted 
the  men  to  bear  in  mind  they 
were  going  to  rescue  unfortu- 
nate people  from  the  excru- 
ciating torments  they  were  sub- 
jected to  at  the  hands  of  the 
Bolsheviks,  and  that  in  case 
of  an  encounter  with  the  latter 
they  must  not  shoot  unless 
in  self-defence.  I  drove  in 
one  of  the  four  carts  which 
accompanied  us,  and  had  a 
trench-mortar  for  my  travelling 
companion  !  The  men  marched 
all  night,  and  told  one  another 
tales  of  similar  expeditions  they 
had  made.  Suddenly  our  horses 
got  stuck  in  a  bog.  I  was 
obliged  to  alight  from  my 
perch,  and  found  myself  knee- 
deep  in  mud.  Soldiers  tried 
to  extricate  me,  but  only  suc- 
ceeded in  falling  into  the  mud 
themselves  !  After  a  consider- 
able elapse  of  time  we  all 
managed  to  get  on  terra  firma 
again,  and  congratulated  one 
another  that  the  Bolsheviks 
did  not  discover  us  in  this 
predicament. 

After  a  few  minutes'  walk  we 
came  to  a  forester's  house  in 
the  wood,  and  heard  that  some 
Magyars  had  been  there,  but 
hearing  our  voices,  when  we 
were  trying  to  get  out  of  the 
bog,  they  took  flight.  If  they 
had  only  been  courageous 
enough  to  come  to  us  when 
we  were  in  that  critical  con- 
dition, not  one  of  us  would 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    709 


have  been  alive  to-day  to  tell 
the  tale.  We  went  very  cau- 
tiously through  the  woods,  until 
we  came  out  on  the  village 
road.  Here  we  were  entirely 
surrounded  by  woods.  We 
had  only  gone  twenty  -  five 
versts  of  our  journey,  and  had 
ten  versts  to  walk  to  complete 
it ;  but,  alas !  for  some  of 
our  party  it  was  the  last 
journey.  One  of  our  soldiers 
fired  a  rocket.  At  the  same 
moment  we  espied  six  mounted 
Magyars  in  the  distance,  emerg- 
ing from  a  wood.  One  of  our 
men  ran  after  them,  as  though 
his  life  depended  upon  their 
capture ;  and  he  did  not  return 
until  he  had  shot  them  from 
their  horses.  The  trench-mortar 
was  placed  on  the  road,  and  a 
terrible  skirmish  ensued.  I  was 
lying  on  a  cart  behind  it.  The 
bullets  from  the  woods  whizzed 
round  us  like  hailstones.  The 
Commander  had  left  his  rifle 
with  me  in  case  of  emergency, 
but  I  could  not  see  the  shadow 
of  a  Bolshevik  anywhere.  Sud- 
denly I  was  aroused  by  a 
cry  of  pain  from  the  operator 
at  the  trench-mortar.  In  his 
hurry  he  had  not  placed  the 
shrapnel  firmly  enough  in  the 
socket  of  the  machine,  which 
caused  it  to  rebound  on  his 
leg  and  smash  the  bone.  I 
bandaged  him  up  as  well  as 
it  was  possible  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, and  then  with  the 
aid  of  two  soldiers  placed  him 
on  a  cart.  The  trench-mortar 
was  damaged  also,  and  was 
put  on  a  second  cart.  The 
Bolsheviks,  guessing  some- 
thing had  happened  to  our 


machine,  fired  at  us  with  in- 
creased vigour.  The  soldiers 
who  had  been  with  us  went 
farther  on  to  join  the  rest  of 
the  company,  and  I  retreated 
with  my  wounded  warrior  to 
a  secluded  part  of  the  wood. 
On  the  way  we  met  another 
seriously-wounded  soldier,  who 
was  driving  himself  in  a  cart 
to  a  place  of  shelter.  I  was 
wounded  also  in  the  heels  with 
shrapnel  splinters,  but  I  had 
no  time  to  think  about  it.  I 
resolved  to  make  an  attempt 
to  take  the  two  wounded  sol- 
diers back  to  Beresina,  although 
the  prospect  of  going  through 
the  terrible  bog  again  was  not 
enticing.  However,  the  Bol- 
sheviks soon  settled  my  fears 
on  that  score. 

We  had  only  gone  a  short 
distance  when  we  realised  the 
woods  were  simply  teeming 
with  Bolsheviks.  My  wounded 
men  took  shelter  behind  some 
trees,  whilst  I  crawled  on  my 
hands  and  knees  to  a  place 
where  I  knew  some  of  our  sol- 
diers were  stationed.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  making  them  under- 
stand that  I  wished  them  to 
come  to  our  assistance,  and 
had  just  returned  to  our  place 
of  concealment  when  a  party 
of  ragged  scoundrels  caught 
sight  of  our  carts  and  opened 
fire  on  us.  I  lay  flat  on 
the  ground  until  the  shoot- 
ing subsided  somewhat.  When 
they  saw  that  we  did  not 
retaliate  they  came  up  to  us. 
They  were  about  thirty  in 
number,  and  each  of  them  held 
his  gun  ready  to  shoot  as  they 
crept  cautiously  towards  me. 


710    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


They  immediately  asked  me 
what  rank  I  held  in  the  army  ! 
On  hearing  that  I  was  not  a 
soldier,  they  said  :  "  Well,  you 
belong  to  the  cursed  race,  and 
therefore  must  die."  I  said 
that  I  was  an  Englishwoman, 
whereupon  they  declared  that 
I  deserved  a  double  dose  of 
bullets  on  that  account ;  and 
forthwith  three  of  them  placed 
their  rifles  on  my  chest.  I 
should  have  been  shot  if  their 
Commissar  had  not  arrived 
at  that  moment.  He  shouted 
to  them  not  to  touch  me. 
Some  of  the  ruffians  wanted 
to  cut  the  two  wounded  men 
into  pieces ;  but  I  broke  loose 
from  my  guards,  and  im- 
plored the  Commissar  not  to 
allow  it.  I  concluded  my 
petition  with  :  "  Surely  you 
Bolsheviks  are  not  all  inhu- 
man. Is  there  not  one  among 
you  with  a  code  of  honour  ?  " 
There  was  a  moment's  silence, 
during  which  every  man  looked 
askance  at  the  Commissar. 
Then  he  answered :  "I  will 
prove  to  you  that  we  are  not 
all  beasts,  and  that  your  con- 
fidence has  not  been  misplaced." 
The  Bolsheviks  were  furious  at 
this  response,  and  I  thought 
for  a  moment  they  would 
lynch  him.  However,  he  calmed 
them,  and  pointed  out  in  his 
diplomatic  manner  that  it 
would  be  a  credit  to  their 
company  that  they  had  been 
successful  in  capturing  three 
prisoners.  This  had  the  desired 
effect  ;  and  they  contented 
themselves  with  searching  me 
and  pocketing  a  few  little  things 
I  was  taking  to  my  friends  in 


M.  They  wanted  to  divest  me 
of  my  uniform,  which  was  quite 
new,  and  would  have  been  a 
great  acquisition  to  one  of 
them.  We  were  hurried  off 
quickly  to  another  village,  be- 
cause, knowing  how  daring 
the  Poznanski  soldiers  are,  al- 
though they  were  120  against 
500  Bolsheviks,  the  latter  felt 
sure  they  would  be  conquered, 
as  they  in  reality  were  subse- 
quently. We  were  taken  to 
the  village  of  Koslovsk,  where 
another  party  of  soldiers  gath- 
ered round  us  and  exulted  over 
their  great  defeat  of  the  Poles 
and  English. 

Amongst  them  was  a  Ger- 
man, who  called  me  a  "  Posener 
swine."  I  must  explain  that 
the  people  called  Poznanzi  are 
the  inhabitants  of  the  province 
of  Posen,  or  Poznan,  as  it  is 
in  Polish.  They  are  Poles, 
and  were,  until  1918,  German 
subjects  ;  but  after  the  Great 
War  they  rebelled  against  the 
German  rule,  and  were  success- 
ful in  regaining  their  liberty. 
They  suffered  very  much  under 
the  German  yoke.  They  were 
not  allowed  to  speak  their 
own  language,  and  had  to 
attend  German  schools,  and 
altogether  were  very  much 
oppressed  ;  consequently  inim- 
ical relations  exist  between  the 
Germans  and  Posener  Poles, 
equal  in  degree  to  those  which 
the  German  harbours  for  the 
Englishman.  When  the  Ger- 
man Bolshevik  knew  that  I 
was  an  Englishwoman,  his 
anger  knew  no  bounds.  He 
declared  I  should  not  leave 
that  place  alive.  He  wanted 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's* Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     711 


the  soldiers  to  take  me  out 
to  the  yard,  where,  he  said, 
I  should  fall  down  quite  by 
accident  —  meaning  he  would 
shoot  me.  However,  the  Com- 
missar would  not  let  me  out 
of  his  sight. 

We  were  taken  into  a  hut, 
where  I  endeavoured  to  ban- 
dage the  wounded  soldiers  with 
my  handkerchiefs,  for  we  could 
not  obtain  any  bandages.  The 
Bolsheviks  jeered  at  their  suffer- 
ings. The  women  scoffed  at  my 
uniform,  and  one  of  them  made 
attempts  to  divest  me  of  it,  be- 
cause she  wanted  to  secure  it  for 
her  son.  She  commanded  me 
to  put  on  a  filthy  torn  cotton 
blouse  and  skirt,  which  she  pro- 
duced. I  firmly  declined  her 
offer  of  raiment.  Whilst  I  was 
occupied  with  my  bandaging, 
two  wounded  Bolsheviks  were 
brought  into  the  hut.  I  at 
once  volunteered  to  render  them 
some  assistance,  but  they  both 
spat  at  me,  and  told  me  to 
let  them  die  in  peace.  After 
a  few  hours  spent  in  this  vil- 
lage, some  officials  came  to 
question  us,  amongst  whom 
I  recognised  men  who  had 
searched  my  boxes  in  M.,  but 
fortunately  they  did  not  appear 
to  recognise  me.  They  in- 
formed us  that  we  were  the 
only  survivors  of  our  party  of 
120,  all  the  rest  having  been 
annihilated  by  them,  and  that 
we  should  feel  particularly 
grateful  to  them  that  they  had 
not  killed  us,  which  was  what 
we  merited.  I  felt  sure  "  the 
boot  was  on  the  other  leg  "  ! 
A  discussion  was  held  as 
to  where  we  should  be  sent. 


At  last  four  soldiers  were 
chosen  to  escort  us  to  a  village 
ten  versts  distant.  It  was  de- 
cided that  only  the  soldier  with 
the  broken  leg  should  have  a 
conveyance,  and  I  with  the 
other  wounded  soldier  must 
walk.  However,  when  the  order 
was  given  for  us  to  depart,  we 
found  two  conveyances  await- 
ing us.  This  was  the  work  of 
the  kind  Commissar,  who  told 
me  to  get  into  one  of  the  carts 
with  one  of  my  wounded.  Just 
as  we  were  about  to  start,  a 
Bolshevik  noticed  the  Polish 
arms  I  had  on  my  cap — a 
silver  eagle,  which  every  Poz- 
nanski  soldier  wears.  He  or- 
dered me  to  take  it  off  and 
throw  it  on  the  ground.  During 
the  preparations  for  our  depar- 
ture I  had  been  watching  the 
German  Bolshevik's  move- 
ments. It  was  obvious  to  me 
that  he  intended  to  follow  us, 
and  I  mentioned  the  fact  to 
the  Commissar.  The  latter 
was  very  tired,  after  his  all- 
night  vigil  in  the  woods  await- 
ing our  arrival,  and  he  had 
intended  to  go  home.  How- 
ever, on  ascertaining  that  the 
German  really  meant  to  in- 
clude himself  in  our  party,  he 
jumped  on  my  conveyance 
just  as  it  was  about  to  start. 
His  men  were  greatly  aston- 
ished at  this,  and  demanded 
an  explanation.  He  said  he 
had  just  recollected  that  he 
had  some  business  in  the  village 
where  we  were  going,  and  so 
would  take  us  there  himself. 
Of  course,  we  three  prisoners 
understood  that  he  j /accom- 
panied us  in  order  to  protect 


712    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 

us  from  the  bullying  German,  loud    burst    of    laughter    from 

The  Commissar  really  fulfilled  the  group  of  onlookers  in  the 

his  promise  to  protect  us.    He  room  saved  the  situation.     He 

was  the  kindest  and  most  hu-  said  that   I    should   receive  a 

mane  man  I  ever  met  amongst  worse    punishment    later    on. 

the    Communists,    and    I    am  However,     shortly    after    this 

sure,    if   it    had   been   in    his  scene,  we  were  taken  to   an- 

power,    he   would   have   liber-  other  place   of  arrest,   and  to 

ated  us.  my  great  satisfaction  we  were 

On    arriving    at     the    next  not  accompanied  by  the  fierce 

village,    Koritzina,    our    Com-  Hungarians.      Each     day    we 

missar  left  us  to  return  home,  were  moved  to  a  different  place, 

We  were  subjected  to   a  sec-  and  we  had  to  depend  wholly 

ond    examination,     and    then  on   the   peasants'    bounty   for 

taken  to  a  hut,  where  I  ban-  food,  which  in  most  cases  was 

daged  my  two  heroes.     Whilst  conspicuous    by    its    absence. 

I  was  thus  engaged,  two  Hun-  One   day  we  met  a  party  of 

garians   came   into   the   room,  mounted  Magyars,  who  wanted 

They  were  frightfully  vicious-  to  kill   us,   because  they   said 

looking  men,  attired  in  bright  it  was  a  waste  of  time  to  take 

scarlet  uniforms  trimmed  with  us   farther.     Our   guards   had 

orange  braid.    There  were  very  a  regular  tussle  with  them,  to 

many  Hungarians  in  that  part  prevent    them    putting    their 

of    Russia.      They    had    been  long  knives  into  us.    We  slept 

prisoners    of    war,     and    had  on    the    dirty    floor    in    every 

secured    their   liberty   by    en-  place  we  went  to,   sometimes 

listing     in     the     Bed     Army,  with  as  many  as  twenty  people 

Many    German    and    Austrian  in   a   tiny   room.      One   night 

prisoners   obtained  their  free-  we  slept  in  a  stable,  but  that 

dom  in  the  same  way ;    and  was    preferable    to    the    evil- 

as  they  always  retain  their  own  smelling,   over-heated    huts   in 

uniforms,  are  easily  recognised,  the  villages.    Eventually,  after 

The    Hungarians    stood    in  four    days'    travelling    on    the 

front    of    me,    and    one    de-  road,  we  arrived  on  4th  April 

manded     in     an     impertinent  in   the   town   of   Mogilev.     It 

manner,  "  What  is  that  ?  "     I  was  Easter  Sunday,  on  which 

did  not  reply,  so  he  said  some-  day  there  was  to  be  feasting 

thing  extremely  vulgar  to  me.  and  an  entertainment  for  the 

I  called  him  a  low  scoundrel,  soldiers  in  Beresina.    We  won- 

whereupon  he  lifted  a  horse-  dered  if  the  merry-makers  there 

whip,  and  declared  he  would  would  cast  a  thought  in  our 

beat  me  to  death  for  these  words,  direction.     It  was  a  very  sad 

As  he  raised  the  whip  I  dashed  Easter  for  us.    It  was  pouring 

it  out  of  his  hand.     This  sim-  rain,  and  we  were  thoroughly 

ply  infuriated  him.     He  ground  drenched    to    the    skin.      We 

his   teeth,   and   seemed   about  were   half -famished ;    my   two 

to  tear  me  to  pieces,  when  a  wounded   companions  were  in 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     713 

great  pain,  and  a  large  crowd  called  Novi-Zubkoff.     There  I 

of    people    gathered   to   mock  spent   a   day   in   a   place   for 

us.      The    two    soldiers    were  Polish   prisoners,    then   twelve 

sent     to     the     hospital,     and  days   at  the   Chay-Ka  Prison, 

I    to    the    staff-prison,    where  and  two   weeks   at  the    base. 

I   spent   the  night  sitting  on  At  the  former  place  a  woman 

the    stone    floor,    shivering    in  gave  me  a   torn   skirt,   which 

my  wet  garments.     The  next  was  a  godsend  to  me.    I  was 

day  I  was   taken  to   a  town  so  tired  of  being  a  soldier ! 


n. 


At  the  base  I  was  the  only 
woman  among  100  Polish  mili- 
tary prisoners.  It  was,  like 
all  the  bases,  a  terribly  dirty 
place.  Many  of  the  prisoners 
escaped,  and  I  attempted  an 
escape  once,  but  my  plans  were 
frustrated  through  a  too  vigi- 
lant guard. 

From  Novi-Zubkoff  I  was 
taken  to  the  base  at  Moscow. 
This  was  a  perfectly  impossible 
place  for  women.  We  were  not 
allowed  to  be  one  second  alone 
on  any  pretence  whatsoever. 
We  slept  in  the  guards'  room 
on  the  floor,  where  they  had 
been  spitting  all  day.  There 
were  about  200  men-prisoners, 
who  were  all  taken  out  in 
batches  to  work  every  day  at 
5  A.M.,  irrespective  of  age  or 
illness.  Many  times  I  have 
seen  men  literally  collapse  with 
typhus  or  some  other  disease, 
and  still  the  guards  hunted 
them  out  to  work,  not  believing 
that  they  were  totally  incap- 
able of  doing  any  physical 
labour.  We  women  had  to 
wash  the  floors  of  all  the  build- 
ing, wash  clothes,  and  do  other 
work.  I  had  bronchitis  at  that 
time,  and  consequently  had  a 


high  temperature.  On  this 
account  I  refused  to  go  to 
wash  soldiers'  dirty  linen^as 
a  result  of  which  I  was  de- 
prived of  my  bread  allowance 
for  three  days.  This  was  no 
punishment  to  me,  for  I  was 
too  ill  to  think  of  food.  From 
the  base  I  was  taken  to  Novi- 
Peskoffski  Concentration  Camp. 
There  I  met  people  poles  asun- 
der in  every  way — members  of 
the  noblest  families  in  Eussia 
hobnobbing  with  some  of  Mos- 
cow's famous  thieves  and  mur- 
derers. Although  it  was  a  dirty 
place,  and  food  was  insufficient, 
I  liked  it  better  than  any  of 
the  other  prisons  that  I  was  in 
afterwards,  because  I  made 
friends  there,  and  the  Com- 
mander and  guards  were  lenient 
with  us. 

On  arriving  at  this  camp  I 
was  so  very  ill  that  I  was 
sent  to  the  infirmary  at  once. 
I  think  I  was  suffering  more 
from  dirt  than  illness.  I  had 
been  nearly  a  month  a  pris- 
oner, and  not  once  during  that 
time  had  I  been  able  to  wash 
myself,  except  my  hands  and 
face — nor  undress,  nor  change 
my  linen ;  and  I  had  slept 


714    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


only  on  dirty  floors  and  in 
cattle-trucks ;  consequently  I 
was  covered  with  lice.  I  begged 
for  some  water  in  order  to 
give  myself  a  good  scrubbing, 
and  after  it,  strange  to  say, 
my  temperature  decreased  con- 
siderably. In  a  few  days' 
time  it  was  discovered  that  I 
had  an  eruption,  brought  on 
through  hunger  and  excessive 
fatigue.  Furthermore,  I  had 
smallpox  as  well.  So  I  was 
taken  to  Sokolniki  Hospital, 
a  splendid  place  for  contagious 
illnesses,  just  outside  Moscow. 
My  fare  during  the  first  three 
weeks  of  my  imprisonment 
consisted  solely  of  black  bread 
and  hot  water.  I  was  in 
hospital  six  weeks,  and  during 
that  time  I  saw  thirty-seven 
women  and  children  die  of 
smallpox.  There  were  no 
medicines  whatever,  and  some- 
times when  the  patients  be- 
came unconscious  no  notice 
was  taken  of  them.  They  were 
not  fed  or  looked  after  in  any 
way,  and  as  a  result  simply 
expired.  A  few  times  I  asked 
the  nurses  why  the  patients 
were  not  cared  for,  and  the 
callous  reply  was  :  "  Why  let 
them  live  ?  They  will  only 
die  of  hunger  sooner  or  later  ; 
and  besides,  we  cannot  feed 
unconscious  people."  We  were 
not  better  fed  than  in  the 
prisons. 

At  that  time  the  British 
Labour  Delegation  was  in  Mos- 
cow. Continually  enthusiastic 
reports  of  speeches  made  by 
them  were  brought  to  me  to 
read.  I  begged  to  be  allowed 
to  speak  to  them  personally. 


However,  this  petition  was 
treated  with  contempt,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  I  should 
have  told  the  members  of  the 
delegation  more  than  they  were 
meant  to  know.  They  were 
treated  seemingly  in  a  very 
charming  hospitable  manner, 
whilst  I,  together  with  several 
of  my  compatriots,  were  suffer- 
ing from  hunger  and  unjust 
terms  of  imprisonment. 

When  I  came  out  of  hospital 
I  returned  to  the  camp  again  ; 
but  a  week  after  my  return  I 
was  sent  to  the  Extraordinary 
Commission.  My  fellow-pris- 
oners all  thought  that  perhaps 
the  members  of  the  British 
Delegation  had  been  endeavour- 
ing to  obtain  the  release  of 
the  British  prisoners,  and  con- 
sequently that  I  should  be 
freed.  However,  I  had  an  in- 
stinctive feeling  that  there  was 
something  unpleasant  in  store 
for  me.  I  took  leave  of  several 
of  my  friends  (poor  things ! 
many  have  been  shot  since  then) , 
and  was  escorted  by  three 
guards  to  the  dreaded  Extra- 
ordinary Commission  or  Chay- 
Ka.  On  arriving  I  asked  why 
I  had  been  brought  there,  and 
was  told  to  mind  my  own 
business.  I  said  I  considered 
this  solely  my  own  affair.  I 
was  given  the  ridiculous  an- 
swer :  "  What  is  done  with 
you  is  not  your  but  our  affair. 
You  have  merely  to  go  where 
we  send  you."  The  next  day 
I  was  sent  with  an  escort  of 
four  guards  back  to  the  town 
of  Mogilev.  No  one  was  allowed 
to  speak  to  me  in  the  train, 
consequently  every  one  had 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     715 


the  impression  that  I  must  be 
some  dangerous  murderess  or 
infamous  criminal  of  some  sort. 
I  was  taken  to  the  prison  of 
the  Sixteenth  Army,  and  occu- 
pied a  tiny  room  with  twenty- 
five  thieves  and  street-girls. 
We  had  no  beds  or  chairs, 
so  we  sat  and  slept  on  the 
floor,  without  any  pillows  or 
covering.  I  could  not  under- 
stand why  I  had  been  brought 
from  Moscow,  the  headquarters 
of  the  Extraordinary  Com- 
mission, to  such  a  remote  place 
as  Mogilev  is ;  however,  the 
Commander  of  the  Sixteenth 
Army  soon  enlightened  me  on 
the  subject. 

The  prison  or  house  of  arrest, 
as  it  is  called,  where  I  was 
in  Mogilev,  was  superintended 
by  the  Commander  of  the 
Sixteenth  Army.  He  is  one 
of  the  strongest  personalities 
I  have  ever  met  —  a  man 
born  to  command  and  rule. 
His  eyes  probe  one  like  gim- 
lets. I  think  it  would  be 
impossible  to  lie  to  him  with- 
out being  found  out.  He  is, 
like  all  the  leaders  of  Bol- 
shevism, a  Jew.  I  have  never 
come  in  contact  with  a  man 
more  cruel  and  callous.  Daily 
he  sentenced  forty  to  eighty 
men  to  death,  and  this  with- 
out the  slightest  consideration. 
I  had  been  three  days  in 
Mogilev  when  I  was  called 
before  this  man.  He  began 
by  showing  me  my  passport, 
a  few  snapshots  I  had  taken 
of  peasants  at  different  times, 
and  the  money  I  had  [left  in 
my  room  at  Beresina,^all  of 
which  I  identified  as  my  own 

VOL.    COX. — NO.   MCCLXXIV. 


property.  Then"  he  handed 
me  a  photo  of  a  village  taken 
from  an  aeroplane,  and  asked 
me  what  that  was.  I  told  him, 
whereupon  he  said  most  sar- 
castically, "  So  you  recognise 
it  ?  "  I  naturally  replied  in  the 
negative.  Then  he  showed  me 
some  splendid  photos  of  a  front 
also  taken  from  an  aeroplane. 
Some  were  photographed  be- 
fore and  others  after  a  battle, 
displaying  the  corpses  of  hun- 
dreds of  soldiers.  I  was  asked 
what  front  they  represented. 
When  I  said  I  had  not  the 
slightest  idea,  the  Commander 
wanted  to  know  how  I  knew 
the  photos  were  taken  from  an 
aeroplane  at  all.  "  You  are 
not  talking  to  a  fool,"  I  re- 
torted warmly.  "  I  know  the 
difference  between  a  photo 
taken  from  the  air  and  one 
taken  on  terra  firma."  "  Yes," 
he  said  ;  "of  course  you  recog- 
nise your  own  work."  Only 
then  did  I  realise  that  these 
condemning  photographs  were 
attributed  to  me.  They  were 
really  works  of  art,  such  as  I 
never  could  have  done.  Then 
he  produced  a  pile  of  plans 
supposed  to  have  been  drawn 
by  me,  also  a  number  of  letters 
that  I  was  supposed  to  have 
written  to  General  Zeligowski, 
and  to  the  Foreign  Office  in 
Warsaw ;  but  my  name  or 
signature  was  not  mentioned 
in  any  of  them.  They  were  all 
written  in  Polish,  with  which 
language  the  Commander  was 
not  familiar,  and  he  would  not 
allow  me  to  examine  them  more 
closely.  Latterly  I  learnt  that 
they  had  really  been  written 

2D2 


716    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


by  the  Commander  of  the 
Polish  forces  in  Beresina.  All 
my  attempts  to  prove  that  I 
was  ignorant  of  the  existence 
of  such  plans,  photos,  papers, 
&c.,  were  fruitless.  After  being 
very  minutely  cross-questioned, 
I  was  told  the  fact  had  been 
established  that  I  had  acted 
as  chief  spy  on  the  Polish 
front,  practically  as  Marshal 
Pilsudski's  right  hand ;  that 
I  had  been  an  aviatress,  and 
thereby  rendered  the  Polish 
Government  great  assistance ; 
that  agents  came  from  War- 
saw every  month  to  give  me 
orders,  and  that  twice  even 
Marshal  Pilsudski  came  in  per- 
son to  see  me  !  Furthermore, 
I  was  told  the  Extraordinary 
Commission  had  proofs  that  I 
had  been  working  in  the  employ 
of  the  British  Secret  Service 
for  ten  years.  These  accusa- 
tions simply  dumfounded  me. 
I  was  perfectly  innocent  of  any 
of  the  charges  brought  against 
me. 

Finally,  this  tyrannical  Jew 
informed  me  that  the  penalty 
of  my  "  great "  crime  was 
death,  but  that  I  could  still 
save  myself  if  I  would  only 
reveal  all  the  Polish  plans,  and 
anything  I  knew  about  people 
connected  with  them.  I  de- 
clared that  I  was  ignorant 
of  anything  concerning  them  ; 
but  of  course  my  words  were 
futile.  The  Commander's  only 
response  was :  "  It  is  useless 
for  you  to  deny  anything.  We 
have  proofs  of  your  guilt.  If 
the  Poles  had  had  a  few  more 
women  like  you,  they  would 
have  won  the  war  long  ago. 


If  you  reveal  all  you  know  in 
reference  to  the  Poles,  I  shall 
have  you  sent  back  to  your 
own  country  within  a  month. 
I  will  give  you  three  days  to 
consider  what  steps  you  will 
take.  If  at  the  end  of  that 
time  you  still  persist  in  saying 
that  you  do  not  know  anything 
about  the  Polish  plans,  I  shall 
have  you  shot  as  a  dangerous 
spy.  It  is  a  great  pity  yon 
were  not  working  for  the  Cause 
on  our  side  ;  but  '  it  is  never 
too  late  to  mend ' ;  and  it  is 
to  be  hoped  you  will  come  to 
your  senses  yet."  I  was  not 
in  the  least  intimidated  by  his 
threats  of  death.  I  knew  my 
nationality  was  a  great  safe- 
guard to  me,  and  that  he  would 
consider  the  matter  well  before 
executing  his  threat ;  therefore 
I  answered  quietly,  "  You  will 
never  dare  to  shoot  me.  I 
know  you  kill  your  Eussian 
deserters  by  the  score  every 
day,  but,  thank  God !  I  am  not 
Eussian,  and  threats  can  never 
frighten  me."  My  words  an- 
noyed him  so  much  that  he 
ordered  a  soldier  to  take  that 
"  impertinent  microbe  "  out  of 
his  sight. 

The  prison  in  Mogilev,  where 
I  experienced  the  greatest  suf- 
fering, was  formerly  a  monas- 
tery. The  soldiers  had  their 
quarters  in  the  church  and 
larger  rooms  of  the  monastery, 
whilst  the  prisoners  and  guards 
occupied  four  small  rooms. 
There  were  always  100  to  200 
men,  and  25  to  35  women. 
Prisoners  were  not  kept  there 
long.  They]  were  sent  either 
to  the  town  prison,^to  concen- 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    717 


tration  camps  in  Moscow,  or, 
which  was  more  often  the  case, 
into  the  next  world.  That 
prison  was  one  of  the  filthiest 
that  one  could  imagine.  The 
windows  were  not  permitted 
to  be  opened,  and  we  were 
not  allowed  to  go  out.  I  was 
there  during  the  month  of  June, 
and  not  once  were  we  allowed 
to  breathe  the  fresh  air.  We 
sat  and  lolled  about  on  the 
floor.  Sometimes,  when  it  was 
particularly  warm,  we  could 
scoop  up  the  lice  in  handfuls. 
Our  only  pastime  was  cleansing 
our  garments  of  these  vile 
insects.  People  were  taken 
daily  to  the  hospital  with 
typhus,  smallpox,  or  some 
other  contagious  disease. 

There  was  only  one  pail  on 
the  premises,  and  it  served 
many  purposes.  For  instance, 
water  was  very  scarce,  because 
it  had  to  be  brought  from  the 
river.  Accordingly  there  was 
never  any  water  to  spare  to 
wash  this  pail.  It  was  used 
in  the  morning  to  wash  the 
floors  in  the  building.  At 
midday  it  was  filled  with  a 
substance  called  soup  —  hot 
water  and  white  beetroot.  The 
latter  was  formerly  used  for 
feeding  pigs  and  cattle,  but 
now  it  is  used  for  human 
consumption.  After  dinner  the 
pail  was  filled  with  water  for 
drinking  purposes,  and  during 
the  night  it  remained  in  our 
room  for  a  certain  convenience. 
I  hope  my  readers  will  be  able 
to  guess  what  decency  forbids 
me  to  put  into  plain  English. 
The  delight  of  my  companions 
when  they  saw  this  filthy  pail 


of  soup  with  its  revolting  odours 
appearing  disgusted  me  beyond 
words.  The  pail  was  never 
rinsed,  because  this  would  have 
entailed  the  use  of  too  much 
water,  consequently  it  was  a 
common  occurrence  for  the 
women  to  find  lice  and  sand  in 
the  dregs  of  this  so-called  soup. 
They  used  to  dive  about  in  it, 
looking  for  pieces  of  beetroot, 
which  they  devoured  raven- 
ously. Although  I  fainted  regu- 
larly from  hunger,  I  would  have 
died  rather  than  touch  the  con- 
tents of  that  pail. 

All  my  fellow-prisoners  in 
the  prison  in  Mogilev — who,  by 
the  way,  were  the  vilest  speci- 
mens of  womanhood  it  has 
ever  been  my  misfortune  to 
meet  on  my  travels — were  suf- 
fering from  incurable  diseases. 
They  mocked  and  jeered  at  me 
continually,  because  I  would 
not  join  them  in  eating  out 
of  the  aforementioned  pail. 
They  did  not  fare  so  badly 
as  myself,  because  each  had 
her  own  particular  friend 
among  the  guards,  who  brought 
daily  little  gifts  of  food,  such 
as  bread,  potatoes,  and  milk. 
I  am  not  by  any  means  a 
"prude,"  but  I  have  witnessed 
such  indecent  scenes  in  that 
place  as  I  never  dreamt  it  was 
possible  to  see.  The  language 
they  used  was  most  revolting. 
Sometimes  I  ventured  to  re- 
monstrate with  the  women, 
but  I  only  received  a  volley  of 
abuse  in  return ;  and  after- 
wards, when  the  guards  would 
hear  that  I  had  been  discussing 
their  conduct,  I  received  a 
sharp  rebuke,  and  was  sent  to 


718     An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


wash  some  dirty  floor  or  carry 
water  from  the  river,  or  had 
some  other  difficult  task  to 
perform,  as  a  punishment  for 
daring  to  criticise  my  "betters." 
Whenever  any  really  revolting 
work  was  required  to  be  done, 
the  women  always  suggested 
that  I  should  be  sent  to  do  it. 
I  was  so  thoroughly  weak  in 
body  that  I  had  no  strength  to 
protest ;  and  besides,  protest 
of  any  kind  would  only  have 
added  to  my  torture.  I  al- 
ways dreaded  the  approach 
of  evening.  We  were  not 
allowed  lights  of  any  kind, 
so  when  night  drew  nigh  we 
curled  ourselves  up  as  small 
as  possible  on  the  floor,  in  a 
vain  attempt  to  sleep ;  but 
there  was  always  a  fight  for 
the  places,  which  invariably 
ended  in  blows.  When  eventu- 
ally we  succeeded  in  obtaining 
places,  it  was  impossible  to 
sleep,  because  the  lice  liter- 
ally swarmed  over  us.  Besides 
this,  continually  our  door  was 
opened  to  admit  new  prisoners, 
who  always  entered  the  room 
screaming  and  crying,  or  the 
guards  came  to  call  different 
women  to  the  judges  to  be 
interrogated,  because  most  of 
the  examinations  took  place 
during  the  night. 

We  were  never  allowed  to 
speak  to  the  men  prisoners  on 
any  pretence  whatever.  Even 
wives  were  not  allowed  to 
speak  to  their  husbands.  How- 
ever, prohibition  is  not  always 
a  safeguard.  The  men's  room 
was  next  to  the  women's  apart- 
ments. There  was  a  locked 
door  leading  from  our  room 


into    the    men's    room.      The 
women   made   a   hole   in   this 
door,     and     so     contrived     to 
speak  with  whom  they  wished. 
One    day    a    girl    was    caught 
in    the    act    of    speaking    to 
her   fiance"   through   this   hole, 
and   one   of   the   guards   beat 
her    most    violently    on    the 
head    and    face.      Then,    with 
her  fiance",  she  was  taken  into 
the    courtyard    and    thrashed 
with  a  stick,  after  which  they 
were   put   in   an   underground 
cellar    for    twenty-four    hours 
without  food.     Such  was  the 
penalty  for  speaking  to  a  man  ! 
Eventually    this    pair    of    un- 
happy   lovers    were    shot    as 
speculators.     One   day   I   ran 
the  risk  of  being  thrashed  also. 
A   girl   told   me   that   a   Poz- 
nanski  officer,  a  prisoner,  would 
like   to   speak   to   me   at   the 
hole.    During  our  conversation, 
which   lasted   about   ten   min- 
utes, we  each  related  how  we 
had  had  the  misfortune  to  fall 
into  the  clutches  of  the  Bol- 
sheviks.   He  told  me  he  hoped 
to  escape  to  Poland  when  he 
got    to    Smolensk,    and    if    I 
would  give  him  my  home  ad- 
dress he  would  write  to  Eng- 
land about  me.     I  wrote  out 
the  address,  and  added  a  few 
words  concerning  my  capture 
and  trial,  and  ended  up  with 
the  sincere  wish  that  he  would 
be  successful  in  his  attempted 
escape.      Then    I    passed    the 
note  through  the  hole.    A  few 
minutes    after    our    door    was 
flung  open,  and  an  angry  voice 
demanded  :     "  Which    woman 
gave  you  the  note  ?  "    Looking 
up,  I  beheld  a  very  handsome 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    719 


Polish  officer.  At  the  same 
moment  I  heard  him  say  in 
Polish  :  "I  don't  know  which 
woman  it  was.  I  read  the  note 
and  destroyed  it  immediately." 
"  You  liar  !  "  the  guard  re- 
torted. It  slowly  dawned  upon 
me  that  this  must  be  the 
officer  I  had  been  speaking  to 
a  few  minutes  previously,  so 
I  came  forward  and  said  that 
I  had  written  him  a  note. 
At  once  two  soldiers  seized 
me  by  the  arms,  and  con- 
ducted me  into  the  courtyard. 
One  of  them  carried  a  stick, 
with  which  he  slashed  the  air 


menacingly.  I  felt  sure  that 
I  was  going  to  be  thrashed. 
However,  I  was  only  taken 
to  a  judge,  and  questioned 
about  the  note ;  but  I  did 
not  tell  him  all  I  had  written. 
As  I  was  a  foreigner  I  escaped 
the  thrashing,  but  not  so  the 
poor  officer.  Eventually  I 
heard  he  managed  to  escape 
from  prison,  and  is  now  safe 
in  his  own  country,  thank 
God !  It  seems  a  spy  among 
the  prisoners  saw  my  note 
being  passed  through  the  hole, 
and  at  once  reported  the  fact 
to  a,  guard. 


m. 


The  night  after  my  first 
interview  with  the  Commander 
of  the  Sixteenth  Army,  I  was 
awakened  rudely  by  a  soldier 
calling  me  to  appear  before  the 
cruel  tyrant.  I  was  asked  if  I 
had  resolved  to  disclose  any 
particulars.  I  answered  in  the 
negative.  There  was  a  long 
pause,  during  which  the  Com- 
mander stared  intently  at  me. 
Suddenly  I  realised  he  was 
trying  to  hypnotise  me.  This 
was  a  favourite  practice  of 
his  :  when  he  could  not  man- 
age to  get  the  truth  from 
prisoners,  he  hypnotised  them. 
However,  I  am  not  susceptible 
to  anything  of  this  sort,  and 
although  that  night  I  was  feel- 
ing very  weak  and  ill  from 
hunger,  I  resisted  his  attempts 
at  mesmerism.  He  once  suc- 
ceeded in  hypnotising  three  of 
my  companions,  and  after- 
wards shot  two  of  them  on 


account  of  the  evidence  he  ex- 
torted from  them  whilst  under 
his  spell.  However,  he  never 
obtained  any  information  what- 
soever from  me,  either  by  fair 
or  foul  means.  He  told  me 
again  that  night  some  con- 
cocted fables  about  myself, 
which  were  so  ludicrous  and 
incredible  that  I  laughed.  I 
was  rebuked  for  my  levity, 
and  asked  if  I  thought  I  had 
come  there  to  amuse  myself. 
"  No,"  I  answered  ;  "  I  am 
feeling  too  ill  to  amuse  myself, 
but  evidently  you  have  come 
here  for  that  purpose,  when 
you  drag  me  from  my  sleep 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
to  hypnotise  me  and  tell  me 
fairy  tales."  These  words  ex- 
asperated him  beyond  descrip- 
tion, and  a  torrent  of  abuse 
and  threats  ensued.  Suddenly 
all  was  darkness,  and  I  felt 
myself  falling  off  the  chair. 


720    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


I  had  fainted  from  sheer  weak- 
ness and  hunger.  I  know  not 
what  followed,  but  when  I  re- 
covered consciousness,  I  found 
myself  lying  on  damp  earth, 
and  something  was  sniffing  at 
my  face.  I  put  out  my  hand 
to  touch  the  "something,"  and 
discovered  it  was  a  rat !  I 
sprang  to  my  feet,  and  found 
I  was  in  total  darkness.  I 
groped  my  way  to  the  wall 
and  leant  against  it,  awaiting 
the  development  of  events. 

I  remained  leaning  against 
the  wall  for  what  seemed  to 
me  an  interminable  time.  Eats 
were  chasing  one  another  and 
squealing,  otherwise  there  was 
no  sound  to  break  the  awful 
monotony.  I  groped  my  way 
round  the  place  to  see  if  I  could 
find  something  to  sit  on,  but 
I  could  not  find  anything.  I 
was  so  weak,  hungry,  and  ill 
that  I  was  powerless  to  think. 
I  felt  myself  sinking  as  though 
into  an  abyss  of  darkness. 
I  longed  to  die,  and  I  hoped 
this  feeling  was  death  coming 
to  liberate  me  at  last  from 
my  persecutors.  Suddenly  the 
door  was  thrown  open,  and 
a  soldier  called  to  me  to 
come  to  the  Commander  again. 
I  was  in  a  semi  -  conscious 
condition.  The  light  stream- 
ing into  the  place  half-blinded 
me ;  in  fact,  my  eyes  smarted 
so  intensely  that  I  could  not 
open  them.  I  was  so  weak 
that  I  could  not  walk  without 
assistance.  Two  soldiers  had 
to  lead  me  to  the  Commander's 
room.  On  the  way  they  told 
me  I  had  been  thrown  into 
the  cellar  when  I  fainted  in 
the  Commander's  room,  and 


that  I  had  been  there  thirty- 
six  hours.  To  me  it  had 
seemed  like  weeks. 

The  Commander  asked  me 
if  I  was  more  sensible  now, 
and  if  I  would  divulge  what 
I  knew  concerning  the  Polish 
forces.  I  replied  that  I  could 
not  if  I  would  relate  anything, 
because  the  Polish  authorities 
were  not  so  foolish  as  to  tell 
their  business  to  simple  women. 
He  stared  at  me  for  several 
minutes,  endeavouring  to  hyp- 
notise me  again,  I  fancy,  and 
then  said,  "  You  are  a  most 
dangerous  spy,  and  as  such 
shall  be  shot.  You  shall  have 
a  few  hours  to  reconsider 
whether  you  will  tell  the  truth 
or  not.  It  is  not  worth  while 
sacrificing  your  life  for  the  Poles, 
a  pack  of  lazy  capitalists." 
"  Your  threats  have  absolutely 
no  effect  on  me,"  I  answered. 
"  I  defy  you  to  shoot  me : 
as  I  said  before,  I  am  not  a 
Eussian,  and  you  cannot  shoot 
English  people  with  impunity. 
One  day,  when  I  am  free,  I 
shall  write  an  account  of  the 
way  you  have  tortured  me  and 
my  companions  in  distress." 
He  foamed  with  rage  and 
beat  the  table  with  his  fists, 
then  told  me  I  should  be 
shot  the  next  day,  and  that 
the  Eussians  did  not  care 
whether  they  shot  English, 
French,  or  any  other  people. 
He  ordered  a  soldier  to  take 
me  back  to  the  women's  apart- 
ments. On  the  way  there  I 
fainted.  When  I  came  to 
myself,  I  was  lying  on  my  back 
in  the  courtyard,  and  two 
soldiers  were  slapping  my  face 
with  towels  !  This  is  a  popu- 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman^  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    72i 


lar  method  of  treatment  for 
fainting  in  Eussia,  and  any- 
thing but  an  agreeable  one. 

When  I  arrived  in  our  room 
I  had  a  chunk  of  bread  thrown 
to  me,  with  the  injunction  to 
get  that  down  and  collect 
strength  to  undergo  a  worse 
ordeal  than  sitting  in  a  cellar. 
That  day  at  least  the  women 
were  kind  to  me.  They  vied 
with  one  another  in  paying  me 
little  attentions.  They  pitied 
me,  because  they  said  I  looked 
as  if  I  had  risen  from  the  dead. 
I  certainly  felt  like  it.  I  did 
not  want  their  black  bread, 
but  only  to  sleep.  I  felt  as 
though  I  had  been  beaten  all 
over.  I  had  caught  cold  in 
the  cellar,  too,  and  was  cough- 
ing terribly.  However,  I  was 
nob  permitted  to  rest  long. 

I  was  brought  before  an- 
other judge,  who  at  my  request 
allowed  me  to  examine  the 
letters,  papers,  photos,  &c., 
which  had  been  shown  to  me 
previously  from  a  distance. 
Some  of  them  were  orders  for 
ammunition,  others  copies  of 
permits  given  to  small  shop- 
keepers to  go  to  another  town 
to  buy  provisions  ;  then  there 
was  a  passport,  said  to  be  my 
Polish  passport  under  an  as- 
sumed name.  When  I  read  it 
through,  I  discovered  it  be- 
longed to  a  certain  Pan  Stanis- 
laus Lapinski,  a  music-master 
who  was  born  in  1857  !  I  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  owner 
of  the  passport.  He  was  a 
feeble  old  man,  over  sixty 
years  of  age.  I  had  never 
possessed  any  Polish  docu- 
ments at  all.  After  a  while 
the  Commander  came  into  the 


room,  and  demanded  if  I 
would  reveal  anything  now, 
because  this  would  be  my 
last  chance.  I  was  so  tired 
of  this  question  that  I  would 
not  reply  to  it.  He  then  pro- 
duced a  paper — my  death-war- 
rant !  My  charges  were  eight 
in  number.  After  he  had 
enumerated  them,  I  was  re- 
quested to  sign  my  name  on 
the  warrant,  proving  that  I 
recognised  that  death  was  a 
just  penalty  for  my  crimes ! 
I  took  a  pen  and  drew  it  across 
the  paper  twice  from  one  side 
to  the  other,  then  handed 
it  back  to  the  Commander. 
He  broke  into  mocking  laughter, 
and  asked  if  I  thought  this 
would  save  me.  I  said  it 
would  neither  save  nor  kill 
me,  and  I  defied  him  to  shoot 
me.  He  told  me  I  should 
be  shot  before  the  day  was 
over,  and  then  he  would  write 
to  Marshal  Pilsudski,  and  in- 
form him  that  his  chief  spy 
had  been  shot.  About  two 
o'clock  that  night  I  was  awak- 
ened to  go  to  the  Commander. 
He  asked  me  again  if  I  had  any- 
thing to  say.  When  I  answered, 
as  usual,  in  the  negative,  he 
told  the  soldier  to  take  me 
away.  It  was  the  last  time 
I  saw  this  bully.  [I  hear  now  the 
Sixteenth  Army  has  deserted, 
and  is  taking  refuge  near  Pskoff . 
This  army  consists  of  a  pack 
of  bandits,  and  it  is  a  pity  it 
was  not  destroyed  long  ago. 

After  quitting  the  Comman- 
der's presence,  I  passed  into 
the  next  room,  and  noticed 
there  were  five  soldiers  sta- 
tioned there.  I  went  on  my 
way,  but  they  followed  me, 


722    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


and  told  me  not  to  go  to  the 
women's  room,  but  to  go 
straight  on.  After  about  twenty 
minutes'  walk  on  the  public 
road,  we  arrived  at  a  wood. 
During  the  walk  I  had  time 
to  realise  what  was  about  to 
take  place.  A  judge  was  wait- 
ing to  receive  me  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  wood,  the  same 
one  that  had  allowed  me  to 
examine  the  photos  and  papers 
previously.  He  asked  me  if 
I  intended  to  be  sensible,  and 
give  the  information  required 
of  me.  "  No,"  I  answered  ; 
"  even  if  I  did  know  something 
about  the  Polish  plans,  I  never 
would  tell  you."  He  at  once 
gave  the  order  to  bind  my  eyes 
with  a  red  handkerchief  ;  but 
I  would  not  allow  this.  They 
tied  my  hands  together  with 
the  handkerchief,  and  I  was 
told  to  walk  twenty  steps 
ahead.  I  did  so,  and  then 
turned  round.  They  com- 
manded me  to  stand  with  my 
back  towards  them  ;  however, 
I  refused.  The  judge  then 
ordered  them  to  let  me  have 
my  own  way,  as  I  was  very 


capricious,  and  to  shoot  me 
facing  them.  Then  he  counted 
one,  two,  and  again  asked  if 
I  would  divulge  what  I  knew. 
He  reminded  me  that  life 
was  sweet,  that  I  was  young, 
and  surely  it  was  not  possible 
that  I  attached  so  little  im- 
portance to  life.  I  replied, 
"  Surely  sentiment  is  not  a 
part  of  your  creed  ?  Get  on 
with  your  base  work,  and 
finish  this  comedy  quickly." 
He  gave  the  order  to  fire,  and 
the  five  soldiers  aimed  at  me, 
and  then  fired  above  my  head 
in  the  air  !  When  the  smoke 
had  faded  away,  the  judge 
unbound  my  hands  and  asked 
if  I  had  been  afraid.  "  No," 
I  rejoined ;  "I  knew  quite 
well  it  was  a  comedy,  and  that 
you  would  not  dare  to  shoot 
me.  Now  I  only  ask  you  to 
let  me  go  back  to  prison,  and 
allow  me  to  sleep  undisturbed 
for  the  rest  of  the  night."  I 
had  been  suffering  physically 
and  mentally  so  acutely  during 
the  past  three  weeks  that  I 
felt  I  should  die  soon  from 
weakness  and  want  of  sleep. 


IV. 


Several  people  have  asked 
me  why  I  was  not  shot.  The 
answer  is  quite  simple — I  am 
an  Englishwoman.  This  fact 
alone  was  my  safeguard.  Fear- 
less and  daring  as  the  Bol- 
sheviks have  proved  them- 
selves to  be  on  a  few  rare  oc- 
casions, their  intrepidity  would 
not  extend  so  far  as  to  shoot 
a  person  of  English  birth. 
Several  English  people  received 


or  saw  their  death-warrants  ; 
a  few  were  brought  to  a  wood 
to  go  through  the  comedy  of 
being  shot,  but  only  two  Eng- 
lishmen are  known  to  have 
been  actually  shot — one,  a  Mr 
Davis,  said  to  have  been  shot 
in  mistake  for  another  man 
whose  name  resembled  Davis. 
Another  story  reports  that  he 
was  connected  with  a  con- 
spiracy against  the  Soviet,  and 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    723 


was  found  in  possession  of  some 
incriminating  papers.  The  sec- 
ond Englishman  was  Captain 
Cromie,  whose  intrepid  con- 
duct cost  him  his  life  during  a 
raid  on  the  English  Embassy 
in  1918. 

All  the  time  I  was  in  prison 
I  felt  convinced  the  Bolsheviks 
would  not  kill  me ;  therefore 
I  felt  quite  calm,  and^their 
threats  had  absolutely  no  effect 
on  me.  The  Bolsheviks  detest 
the  English,  and  I  suppose 
I  represented  the  whole  of  the 
British  race  to  them  ;  conse- 
quently all  their  hate  was  con- 
centrated on  me  as  being  the 
only  one  in  their  power  at 
the  moment. 

Eventually  the  mystery  sur- 
rounding the  papers,  plans, 
and  aeroplane  photographs  was 
solved  for  me.  I  could  not 
account  for  such  things  being 
found  amongst  my  papers,  but 
an  inhabitant  of  Beresina,  who 
had  been  taken  prisoner  there, 
enlightened  me  on  the  sub- 
ject. It  seems  when  I  did  not 
return  with  the  Polish  expedi- 
tion, the  priest  in  whose  house 
I  had  been  living  took  my 
passport,  papers,  and  money 
to  the  Governor  of  the  town, 
and  bade  him  keep  them  in 
safety  in  case  I  should  return. 
When  the  Bolsheviks  advanced 
on  Beresina  the  priest  and  his 
sister  were  obliged  to  flee ; 
and  the  Governor,  who  was 
making  an  inspection  in  the 
villages,  hearing  the  Bed  Army 
was  advancing,  made  good  his 
escape  also,  leaving  all  the 
archives  and  documents  intact 
in  his  office.  The  Bolsheviks 
seized  everything  there,  and 


finding  my  passport,  concluded 
that  all  the  incriminating  papers 
must  belong  to  me.  They  seized 
all  my  belongings,  which  they 
found  in  the  priest's  house,  and 
divided  them  among  them- 
selves. I  am  sure  they  did  not 
believe  that  I  had  been  an 
aviatress,  but  they  thought 
by  attributing  extraordinary 
charges  to  me,  they  would 
obtain  useful  information  about 
the  Polish  Army,  which,  how- 
ever, I  was  totally  unable  to 
supply  them  with.  Needless 
to  say,  even  if  I  had  been 
cognisant  of  anything  concern- 
ing the  Poles,  I  should  never 
have  betrayed  them  in  any 
way. 

After  my  shooting  adven- 
ture I  was  taken  to  the  base  in 
Mogilev.  These  bases  are  the 
filthiest  places  under  the  sun. 
Prisoners  from  all  the  dif- 
ferent places  of  arrest  in  the 
town  are  brought  to  the  base 
to  be  transferred  in  parties  to 
prisons  of  other  towns.  At 
the  base  in  Mogilev  I  was  the 
only  woman  amongst  a  com- 
pany of  Lettish  soldiers  on 
their  way  under  escort  to  the 
front.  One  of  them,  on  hearing 
I  was  English,  asked  me  if  I 
had  ever  resided  in  Beresina. 
I  replied  that  I  had  lived  a 
few  months  in  that  town,  and 
had  been  arrested  near  there. 
He  then  informed  me  that  a 
price  was  out  for  my  head, 
and  that  when  they  occupied 
Beresina  they  arrested  thirty 
Polish  citizens  as  hostages  for 
me  until  they  would  reveal  my 
place  of  concealment.  These 
poor  Poles,  like  every  one  else 
in  Beresina,  had  no  idea  what 


724    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    [Dec. 


had  happened  to  me.  It  was 
known  that  I  had  gone  with 
the  Poznanski  soldiers  one 
night,  and  that  I  had  not 
returned.  Not  even  the  Com- 
mander of  the  Polish  forces 
could  know  whether  I  had  been 
killed  or  taken  prisoner.  I 
begged  the  soldier  to  take 
steps  towards  releasing  the  un- 
fortunate people.  I  had  been 
already  two  months  in  the 
hands  of  the  Bolsheviks  when 
they  arrested  the  Poles  on  a 
charge  of  concealing  my  where- 
abouts— a  curious  and  unpar- 
donable blunder  on  the  part  of 
these  infallibles ! 

From  Mogilev  I  was  taken 
to^the  base  at  Orsha.  From 
there  I  was  taken  to  the  base 
at  Smolensk ;  then  to  the 
Extraordinary  Commission  at 
the  Western  Front  in  the  same 
town.  Here,  after  my  papers 
were  examined,  an  order  was 
given  to  conduct  me  to  a  place 
called  the  town  Governor's 
prison,  and  to  put  me  in  an 
underground  cellar  under  strict 
surveillance.  The  man  who 
issued  this  order  was  a  Lett, 
and  had  a  most  cruel  and  re- 
pulsive countenance.  He  told 
the  guard  in  charge  of  me  to 
make  me  walk  in  the  road,  so 
that  every  one  could  look  at 
the  "  despicable  Polish  spy  "  ; 
and  if  I  did  not  obey  him  at 
once,  he  was  to  shoot  me,  like 
he  would  shoot  a  Pole,  for 
instance.  On  arriving  at  the 
Governor's  prison,  I  was  sub- 
jected to  a  very  minute  ex- 
amination of  my  person,  and 
then  put  in  a  cellar  with 
sixty  men.  I  was  so  tired  and 
weak  with  hunger,  for  I  had 


walked  many  miles  that  day 
and  had  not  even  had  a  glass 
of  water  or  piece  of  bread  for 
forty  hours,  that  when  I  found 
myself  in  the  midst  of  so  many 
men,  and  heard  a  few  imperti- 
nent remarks,  my  self-control 
gave  way,  and  I  sobbed  like 
a  child  for  about  fifteen  min- 
utes. I  was  truly  ashamed 
of  my  weakness,  for  it  was 
the  first  time  I  had  been 
guilty  of  such  a  want  of  self- 
control  ;  but  I  was  perfectly 
worn  out  with  all  the  suffer- 
ings I  had  undergone  during 
the  past  few  weeks,  and  this 
unnecessary  punishment  seemed 
the  culmination  of  all.  The 
men,  as  I  found  out  later,  were 
not  criminals,  as  I  had  thought. 
They  had  been  guilty  of  un- 
punctuality  or  irregularity  at 
their  work,  and  were  confined 
to  this  cellar  for  a  few  days. 
They  all  behaved  very  gallantly 
towards  me  when  they  heard  I 
was  English.  They  had  heaps 
of  food  ;  and  although  a  feel- 
ing of  pride  prompted  me  to 
declare  I  was  not  hungry, 
they  forced  pieces  of  food 
on  me,  and  I  had  more 
to  eat  that  night  than  since 
I  had  been  arrested.  Two 
guards  sat  in  the  room  to  keep 
strict  watch  over  me,  but  they 
revolted  at  the  thought  of 
guarding  a  woman  who  looked 
so  weak  and  harmless.  They 
brought  me  portions  of  their 
own  soup  and  bread,  too  ;  so 
that  altogether  I  had  not 
such  a  bad  time  as  the  cruel 
Lett  at  the  Extraordinary 
Commission  had  intended. 
After  three  days  I  was  again 
taken  back  to  the  base, 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    725 


to  be  sent  on  to  Moscow. 
However,  the  Commander  there 
said  he  knew  by  my  papers 
that  I  must  be  shot,  so  sent 
me  again  to  the  Extraordinary 
Commission  of  the  Western 
Front.  There  a  quarrel  ensued 
between  my  guards  and  the 
Commander.  The  latter  said 
he  would  go  and  shoot  the 
Commander  of  the  base  for 
being  such  a  silly  donkey  as 
not  to  know  that,  if  I  was  to 
be  shot,  I  must  be  sent  to  the 
Extraordinary  Commission  in 
Moscow,  and  that  at  once, 
too ;  so  they  marched  me 
back  to  the  base  for  the  third 
time.  After  walking  backwards 
and  forwards  to  these  different 
places,  I  left  Smolensk  with 
a  large  party  of  prisoners 
for  the  base  at  Dolgabush. 
Then  I  was  taken  to  Viasma, 
where  I  remained  six  days. 
The  Commander  there  was  very 
kind  to  me.  He  allowed  me  to 
play  the  piano  in  the  Com- 
munists' Hall,  and  let  me  go 
bathing  in  the  river  twice, 
unattended  by  the  guards.  Al- 
together I  did  not  feel  like  a 
prisoner.  From  Viasma  I  was 
sent  to  Yakitz,  and  then  to 
the  base  at  Moscow ;  from 
thence  to  the  Extraordinary 
Commission's  headquarters,  and 
then  to  the  town  -  prison, 
Butirka. 

Here  I  was  again  in  hos- 
pital. I  was  very  ill  from 
the  effects  of  privation  and 
utter  exhaustion.  I  had  no 
pain,  but  lay  on  my  back 
quite  helpless  for  a  couple  of 
weeks.  So  ill  was  I  that 
I  could  not  ±m  remember  my 
name  for  a  few  days ;  and 


although    I    understood    what 
people  said,  I  could  not  think 
what  language  they  spoke.    We 
were    over    3000    prisoners    in 
this   place,   and  whilst  I  was 
there  many  interesting  and  at 
the   same   time   sad   incidents 
took   place.     Apart   from   the 
lack  of  air  and  proper  food,  we 
were  not  very  badly  treated. 
The   French   Bed   Cross    and, 
after  their  departure  from  Eus- 
sia,    the    Danish    Eed    Cross 
brought   me   packets    of   food 
every  week ;    but  there  were 
so  many  starving  people  around 
me  that  the  contents   of  the 
packets  were  soon  exhausted. 
We    were    not    allowed    to 
have   knives,    razors,    scissors, 
or    any    sharp    instrument    in 
our  possession,   but  neverthe- 
less there  were  many  cases  of 
suicide  whilst  I  was  in  Butirka. 
In  hospital  a  little  more  liberty 
was  allowed,  and  it  was  there 
that  most  of  them  took  place. 
One  man  threw  himself  down 
four  flights   of   stairs   because 
he  had  been  threatened  with 
death ;     another   one,   for  the 
same   reason,    cut    his    throat 
with  a  broken  piece  of  plate. 
Yet  another  one  stuck  a  darn- 
ing-needle  into    several    veins 
in    his    wrists,    and    bled    to 
death,   because    his   wife    had 
died  of  starvation  during  his 
arrest.      A    nurse,    who    had 
been  a  spy  in  Denikin's  army, 
had  been  sentenced  to  death, 
but  gained  a  reprieve  through 
consenting  to   act  as   spy  for 
the  Chay-Ka.     The  Socialists, 
being  aware   of   this,   taunted 
her  with  it  on  every  occasion. 
Eventually    she    took    poison 
whilst  standing  before  my  bed 


726    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


engaged  in  a  conversation  with 
me.  I  asked  her  what  she 
had  in  the  glass  she  was  hold- 
ing, and  she  said  it  was  cascara. 
She  lay  down  on  her  bed,  and 
suddenly,  without  any  apparent 
reason,  began  to  cry.  On  ap- 
proaching her,  I  noticed  that 
her  eyes  were  shining  most 
unnaturally.  I  at  once  ex- 
amined the  dregs  of  the  glass 
she  had  been  drinking  from, 
and  discovered  it  was  opium. 
I  called  the  doctor,  but  he 
made  very  little  effort  to  re- 
store her.  She  was  a  par- 
ticular enemy  of  his.  I  sat 
up  with  her  all;  night,  and 
towards  morning  she  recovered 
sufficiently  to  get  up  and  go 
outside  the  ward  for  a  few 
minutes.  When  she  returned 
she  was  staggering  like  a  drunk 
person.  She  had  taken  a  second 
dose  of  opium  that  she  had 
concealed  somewhere.  She  was 
made  to  walk  about  nearly  all 
day  in  the  open  air,  and  was 
not  permitted  to  rest  a  mo- 
ment. It  was  pitiful  to  see 
her,  unable  to  drag  her  feet 
along,  staggering  like  a  para- 
lytic. She  lost  the  use  of  her 
feet  for  many  days.  Her  only 
thought  was  to  end  her  miser- 
able existence,  because  she  was 
ashamed  that  she  had  become 
a  spy  for  the  Bolsheviks. 

I  was  only  examined  once 
in  Butirka.  The  judge  asked 
me  the  same  questions  I  had 
been  asked  in  Mogilev.  :  I 
persisted  in  saying  that  I 
was  totally  ignorant  of  any- 
thing concerning  the  Polish 
forces.  So  he  dismissed  me 
with  :  "  You  are  pig-headed, 
like  all  your  race.  You  have 


made  up  your  mind  not  to 
divulge  anything,  and  even  a 
gun  at  your  head  has  not 
succeeded  in  extorting  any- 
thing but  impertinence  from 
you.  It  is  such  people  as  you 
who  could  help  our  good  Cause, 
and  instead  you  are  an  impedi- 
ment to  us.  You  can  thank 
your  stars  you  are  English, 
for  if  you  were  a  Pole  you 
would  be  shot  at  once.  We 
shall  see  what  England  in- 
tends to  do  about  trade  ne- 
gotiations ;  your  fate  will 
depend j,  upon  England's  deci- 
sion." Quite  unconsciously  he 
had  confessed  that  I  could 
not  be  shot  because  I  was 
English.  "  If  England  does 
not  decide  in  your  favour, 
then  one  weak  woman  will 
bear  the  brunt  of  your  anger  ?  " 
I  asked.  "  Yes,"  he  answered, 
"  a  weak  woman,  but  a  very 
dangerous  one ;  and  as  your 
people  have  sent  Russian  Com- 
munists to  Africa  to  work  in 
an  insupportable  climate,  so 
we  will  send  you  to  Siberia  or 
some  other  outlandish  place." 
I  was  three  months  in  Butirka, 
and  the  latter  part  of  the  time 
I  worked  with  another  English 
lady  in  the  department  for 
repairing  the  prison  garments. 
Our  prison  doctors  were  con- 
stantly being  shot  on  imaginary 
charges  of  counter-revolution, 
and  new  ones  being  arrested 
to  take  their  places.  As  I  had 
studied  medicine  for  three  and 
a  half  years,  I  was  asked 
several  times  to  accept  work 
in  a  medical  capacity,  but  I 
refused  to  work  for  the  Bol- 
sheviks. I  asked  to  be  allowed 
to  work  in  the  repairing  depart- 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    727 


ment,  because  through  doing 
so  I  was  enabled  to  speak  occa- 
sionally to  some  of  my  fellow- 
prisoners,  and  it  was  always 
interesting  to  know  why  each 
one  had  been  arrested.  It 
was  so  dreary  sitting  all  day 
in  our  room  without  any  occu- 
pation and  listening  to  the 
woes  of  our  companions.  Be- 
sides this,  there  were  continual 
fits  of  hysterics,  crying,  or 
heart  attacks  going  on  round 
about  us,  and  one  simply 
yearned  for  another  atmos- 
phere. Our  only  excitement 
wasTwhen  some  one  was  set 


free.  Then  there  was  a  great 
clapping,  cheering,  and  bang- 
ing on  the  door  after  their 
departure.  Often  a  person  was 
told  they  would  be  set  free,  and 
instead  they  were  taken  away 
to  be  shot. 

There  were  six  other  English 
people  with  me  in  Butirka, 
who  had  been  members  of  the 
English  Belief  Committee  in 
Petrograd.  After  a  year's  im- 
prisonment they  were  released, 
and  it  was  only  on  their  arrival 
in  England  that  they  learnt 
they  had  been  condemned  to 
death  also. 


v. 


Eventually  I  was  taken  from 
Butirka  to  Ivanoffsky  Camp. 
There  every  one  was  obliged 
to  rise  at  7  A.M.  and  work  for 
eight  hours  daily  in  different 
workshops,  such  as  bookbind- 
ing, printing,  making  clothes 
for  the  Eed  Army,  or  sawing 
wood.  I  was  determined  I 
should  not  do  any  compulsory 
work,  especially  as  I  had  heard 
that  a  party  of  English  officers, 
who  had  been  there  before  me, 
had  staunchly  refused  to  take 
part  in  any  work  whatsoever. 
In  that  camp,  life  was  not  so 
dull.  We  were  allowed  to  walk 
about  the  grounds  and  build- 
ing without  escort ;  we  had 
a  fairly  good  library,  and  once 
a  week  there  was  a  theatrical 
entertainment,  and  occasion- 
ally different  prisoners  gave 
lectures  on  useful  subjects. 
Whilst  I  was  there  •  a  .rebellion 
among  the  troops  7  in  Moscow 
took  place.  We  heard  that 


Lenin  was  even  hunted  out  of 
the  Kremlin,  but  returned  vic- 
torious to  his  place  after  twenty 
minutes'  absence !  I  don't  know 
how  much  truth,  if  any,  there 
was  in  this  report,  but  180 
prisoners,  chiefly  officers,  were 
sent  from  our  camp  one  night 
to  Siberia  ;  and,  in  fact,  there 
was  a  general  evacuation  of 
the  old  inmates  of  all  the  camps 
and  prisons  to  Siberia  and  to 
the  next  world,  whilst  several 
hundreds  of  the  rebels  took 
their  places  in  Moscow.  Event- 
ually over  a  thousand  of  them 
were  shot. 

I  remained  in  Ivanoffsky 
Camp  a  month,  when  suddenly 
I  heard  my  compatriots  in 
Butirka  had  been  sent  home 
to  England.  I  at  once  went 
to  the  Commander  and  declared 
I  should  go  on  hunger-strike  if 
I  was  not  repatriated  at  once. 
It  was  impossible  for  me  to 
undergo  the  severity  of  a  Eus- 


728    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


sian  winter  clothed  as  I  was. 
I  had  no  boots,  and  only  wore 
linen  slippers,  with  which  I 
was  obliged  to  walk  about  in 
rain  or  snow  alike ;  I  pos- 
sessed one  thin  costume  and 
no  underclothing,  consequently 
I  suffered  from  intense  rheu- 
matism, which  I  think  I  will 
take  with  me  to  my  grave. 
The  Commander  went  to  the 
Chay-Ka  and  explained  my 
position,  and  the  next  day  I 
was  sent  to  Pokrovsky  Camp, 
where  I  remained  only  one 
day.  Then  I  was  sent  to 
Andronievsky  Camp,  a  place 
exclusively  for  foreigners.  Here 
life  was  particularly  hard  for 
the  women  ;  but  I  made  many 
friends  there,  and  I  did  not 
mind  the  hardships  so  much. 
The  very  strictest  punishments 
were  meted  out  to  the  men 
and  women  who  dared  to 
speak  to  one  another ;  but 
still  we  always  managed  to 
speak  to  whom  we  liked.  We 
were  obliged  to  work  there 
also,  and  I  became  a  danseuse 
for  the  camp  theatre.  The 
latter  had  been  built  by  sixteen 
English  officers  of  the  Siberian 
Eailway  Mission,  who  were 
very  gay  and  enterprising,  and 
found  time  hang  heavily  on 
their  hands,  as  they  refused  to 
take  part  in  the  compulsory 
work.  They  made  a  fairly 
decent  theatre  out  of  a  dirty 
stable.  These  officers,  espe- 
cially one,  a  Mr  Eooney,  have 
made  their  names  famous  in 
Ivanoffsky  and  Andronievsky 
Camps,  because  the  theatres 
in  both  places  made  great  pro- 
gress during  their  confinement. 
People  admired  them  very 


much,  and  the  guards  stood 
in  awe  of  them. 

When  I  had  been  a  few  days 
in  Andronievsky  Camp,  I  sent 
in  a  petition  to  the  Chay-Ka, 
asking  to  be  allowed  to  go  to 
Poland  with  the  first  batch  of 
Polish  prisoners,  because  we 
were  expecting  peace  to  be 
signed  daily  between  Eussia 
and  Poland.  All  the  English 
prisoners  had  been  sent  home, 
winter  had  begun,  and  I 
was  getting  tired  of  being 
marched  about  from  prison  to 
prison,  and  being  detained  for 
no  reason  whatever.  As  I  was 
really  a  Polish  prisoner  of  war, 
I  thought  they  were  keeping 
me  until  peace  was  signed  be- 
tween Eussia  and  Poland.  I 
received  a  satisfactory  answer  to 
my  petition.  They  said  as  I  had 
been  a  medical  student  I  ranked 
among  the  doctors,  and  as  such 
should  be  liberated  with  the 
first  batch  of  Polish  prisoners. 
On  the  23rd  of  November  I 
read  a  note  from  Lord  Curzon 
in  the  newspaper,  to  the  effect 
that  trade  negotiations  between 
England  and  Eussia  could  not 
be  concluded  until  all  British 
prisoners  had  been  repatriated. 
I  knew  that  this  note  would 
alleviate  my  position  at  once, 
but  I  had  become  almost  in- 
different to  everything,  and 
was  incapable  of  experiencing 
any  great  joy  or  pain. 

It  seems  Chicherin,  the 
Foreign  Minister,  had  said  he 
did  not  know  how  to  deal  with 
me,  whether  to  treat  me  as  a 
Polish  spy  or  as  an  English 
hostage.  However,  he  evi- 
dently decided  definitely  on 
26th  November,  for  on  that 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    729 


date  I  was  told  to  get  ready 
to  go  to  the  Extraordinary 
Commission.  I  went  to  our 
Commander  and  asked  why  I 
must  go.  He  said  probably  I 
was  going  to  be  sent  to  Eng- 
land. I  told  him  I  wanted  to 
go  to  Poland ;  but  he  said, 
"  What  sort  of  a  person  are 
you  ?  Don't  think  of  Poland, 
but  go  to  your  country,  and 
be  glad  you  are  at  last  free. 
Forget  your  life  here.  You 
gain  everything  by  leaving  here 
now,  and  only  we  shall  be 
poorer  in  losing  our  little  dan- 
seuse."  After  taking  a  sorrow- 
ful leave  of  my  friends  in  dis- 
tress, some  of  whom  had  grown 
very  dear  to  me,  I  was  taken 
in  a  motor-car  to  the  Chay-Ka, 
and  was  there  joined  by  Mrs 
Harding,  a  journalist,  who  had 
been  interned  most  unjustly 
in  Butirka  for  five  months ; 
also  Mr  and  Mrs  Schwartz, 
American  Socialists,  who  had 
been  with  me  in  Andronievsky 
Camp.  The  latter,  better  known 
in  America  as  Jessie  Molle, 
went  on  hunger-strike  to  obtain 
the  release  of  her  husband  and 
herself.  She  was  an  elderly 
woman,  and  her  health  and 
brain  suffered  considerably  dur- 
ing her  four  months'  confine- 
ment in  prison.  We  were  shut 
up  in  a  very  small  cell  without 
air  for  the  last  time,  and  given 
some  dirty  water  with  unwashed 
potato-peelings  in  it  for  supper  ! 
I  amused  myself  writing  tirades 
against  the  Bolsheviks  on  the 
walls,  f:  We  were  all  to  have 
been  sent  together  to  Eeval, 
but  at  the  last  moment  the 
Schwartzes  were  detained,  and 
only  Mrs  Harding  and  myself 


were  taken  in  a  motor-car  again 
to  the  station  with  a  Chay-Ka 
agent  as  escort.  We  were  the 
last  British  prisoners  to  leave 
Eussia. 

Later  I  learnt  the  Schwartzes 
were  detained  a  few  days  after 
us,  and  that  Mrs  Schwartz 
started  hunger-striking  again. 
When  she  was  eventually  set 
free,  she  died  in  Eeval  a  few 
days  after  from  the  effects  of 
privation  and  confinement  in 
prison.  Her  husband,  who  was 
deeply  attached  to  her,  was 
naturally  very  bitter  against 
the  Bolsheviks.  Poor  Mrs 
Schwartz  was  only  one  of  the 
many  thousands  of  Bolshevik 
victims  ;  but,  unlike  others,  she 
and ',  her  husband  had  '  advo- 
cated the  cause  of  the  Bolshe- 
viks before  coming  to  Eussia. 
They  had  believed  them  to  be 
the  exponents  of  justice  to 
the  workers,  but  they  soon 
realised  what  a  terrible  mis- 
conception they  had  had  of  the 
Soviet  Government. 

When  Mrs  Harding  and  I 
arrived  at  the  station  a  very 
amusing  incident  took  place. 
A  hideous-looking  Jew  from 
the  Foreign  Office  was  wait- 
ing to  see  us  off,  and  the  train 
was  just  about  to  start.  Mrs 
Harding  was  hurriedly  hustled 
on  to  the  train,  but  before  I 
could  follow  her  the  train 
started  off.  Our  escort  urged 
me  to  jump  on  to  the  train, 
but  as  I  had  two  bags  in  my 
hands,  Mrs  Harding's  property, 
I  refused  to  run  the  risk  of 
breaking  my  legs  just  as  I 
was  about  to  be  liberated  from 
the  Bolshevik  clutches ;  con- 
sequently Mrs  Harding  went 


730    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


off  to  Petrograd  alone,  and  the 
escort  and  myself  were  left 
standing  on  the  station  shout- 
ing at  the  receding  train  to 
stop !  I  shall  never  forget 
the  anxiety  of  the  poor  agent. 
He  walked  up  and  down  the 
platform  beating  his  head,  and 
shouting  :  "  O  God,  what  has 
happened  ?  O  God,  what  shall 
I  do  f  "  The  man  from  the 
Foreign  Office  made  matters 
worse  by  saying  :  "  Now  what 
have  you  done  1  You  have 
let  one  of  the  famous  spies 
go  off  alone.  You  will  answer 
for  this  at  headquarters."  In 
reality  the  poor  fellow  was  not 
to  blame.  The  motor-car  had 
arrived  too  late  to  take  us  to 
the  station  in  time  to  catch 
the  train.  After  a  while  it 
was  discovered  that  the  Estho- 
nian  Mission  were  departing 
at  midnight  for  Petrograd,  and 
it  was  agreed  that  I,  with  my 
escort,  should  travel  on  that 
train.  In  the  meantime  the 
telephone- wires  were  set  in 
action  to  recapture  Mrs  Hard- 
ing. At  the  first  stopping- 
place  two  soldiers  got  into  her 
compartment,  and  took  charge 
of  her  until  she  got  to  Petro- 
grad. I  fared  exceedingly  well 
on  my  journey  to  Petrograd.  I 
was  the  only  woman  on  the 
train,  and  the  Esthonian  Mis- 
sion members  were  extremely 
kind  to  me.  Several  of  them 
spoke  English ;  and  one  old 
gentleman,  a  Mr  Dollar,  fed 
me  with  white  bread  and  butter, 
ham,  chocolate,  and  wine,  things 
of  which  I  had  almost  forgotten 
the  existence.  On  arriving  at 
Petrograd  our  agent  received 


an  order  that  we  were  to  travel 
vid  Finland  instead  of  Eeval, 
as  was  formerly  arranged. 
We  were  obliged  to  remain  in 
Petrograd  three  days  until  our 
escort  could  obtain  permission 
for  me  to  travel  farther,  be- 
cause the  Extraordinary  Com- 
mission had  not  returned  my 
passport  to  me.  It  is  a  com- 
mon thing  for  foreign  passports 
to  get  lost  if  they  once  have 
the  misfortune  to  get  into  the 
office  of  the  Extraordinary  Com- 
mission, because  they  are  given 
to  Soviet  spies  and  propagan- 
dists who  resemble  the  rightful 
owners  of  the  passports  ;  and 
armed  with  the  stolen  docu- 
ments, these  impostors  go  to 
America,  France,  and  other 
countries,  and  begin  their  pro- 
paganda. So  there  is  probably 
another  Letitia  Bowler  airing 
her  views  on  Bolshevism  in 
another  part  of  the  world ; 
and  perhaps  at  some  future 
date  I  may  read  an  account 
in  the  newspaper  that  I  have 
been  arrested  as  a  Bolshevik 
agitator  in  some  part  of  the 
globe ! 

Eventually,  on  30th  Novem- 
ber 1920,  we  left  Petrograd 
with  all  its  abject  misery, 
dilapidation,  and  squalor  be- 
hind, and  travelled  to  Bialias- 
troff,  the  Finnish  frontier. 
There  our  Chay-Ka  spy  left 
us  to  return  to  Moscow.  At 
Bialiastroff  we  were  divested 
of  all  our  garments,  all  of 
which  were  most  minutely  ex- 
amined. Mrs  Harding  had 
more  than  200,000  Soviet 
roubles  taken  from  her,  because 
one  was  only  allowed  to  take 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    731 


10,000  roubles  out  of  the  coun- 
try, as  though  one  could  make 
use  of  even  a  million  of  that 
worthless  paper.  After  we  had 
filled  in  several  papers,  we  were 
ushered  into  a  large  room,  where 
we  found  about  forty  sub- 
jects of  different  nationalities. 
There  were  American,  French, 
Belgian,  Italian,  German,  Dan- 
ish, Swedish,  Finnish,  besides 
English  subjects  ;  but  nearly 
all  of  them  spoke  only  Eussian. 
Some  of  the  last  had  never 
seen  England's  shores.  They 
had  had  an  English  parent, 
and  consequently  were  entitled 
to  a  British  passport ;  so  when 
things  became  intolerable  in 
Eussia,  they  took  advantage 
of  their  passport  and  became 
fired  with  a  desire  to  visit 
England,  although  their  hearts, 
souls,  and  sympathies  remained 
in  Eussia.  Towards  evening 
we  were  all  hustled  together 
up  the  railway  line  to  the 
broken  bridge  which  divides 
Eussia  from  Finland.  We  stood 
there  about  fifteen  minutes, 
eagerly  scanning  the  line  on 
the  other  side.  On  the  Eus- 
sian side  there  were  two  ragged 
sentries  without  any  uniform, 
just  dressed  like  the  ordinary 
peasant,  standing  in  a  slouch- 
ing attitude.  On  the  Finnish 
side  there  were  two  smartly- 
uniformed  sentries  standing  in 
a  military  attitude.  Even  the 
railway  line  on  the  Finnish 
side  was  cleaner  than  the  Eus- 
sian. Suddenly  in  the  distance 
we  saw  a  party  of  well-dressed 
men  coming  down  the  line  to- 
wards us.  These  were  the  for- 
eign Consuls  and  different  rep- 


resentatives of  foreign  missions 
coming  to  receive  us.  Across 
the  broken  bridge  which  divides 
Finland  from  Eussia  a  tem- 
porary plank  was  laid,  at  the 
end  of  which  there  was  a 
small  open  gate.  A  Finnish 
officer  approached  this  gate 
first,  acknowledged  the  salute 
of  the  Bolshevik  representa- 
tive, then  shut  the  gate  before 
negotiations  were  begun.  The 
ceremony  of  handing  over  the 
passports,  or  testimonials  certi- 
fying the  nationality  of  those 
whose  passports  had  been  stolen 
from  them,  was  soon  accom- 
plished. Then  an  order  was 
given  for  the  British  subjects 
to  go  over  the  bridge  first. 
Major  Fitzhughes,  the  British 
Eed  Cross  representative,  called 
out :  "  Mrs  Harding  and  Miss 
Bowler  first,  please."  This 
was  because  we  were  the  last 
British  prisoners  from  Eussia. 
We  passed  through  the  little 
gate,  received  a  hearty  wel- 
come, and  were  at  last  free ! 
Free  after  eight  months  of 
torture,  after  being  at  the 
mercy  of  nothing  better  than 
bloodthirsty  beasts.  No  one 
knows  what  magic  the  word 
freedom  possesses  except  those 
who  have  undergone  a  long 
term  of  imprisonment.  I  was 
so  profoundly  grateful  to  those 
good  Finns  and  Major  Fitz- 
hughes for  receiving  us,  for 
liberating  us  from  those  mur- 
derous villains,  that  I  could 
have  knelt  down  in  the  dust 
and  kissed  their  feet.  It  was 
one  of  the  holiest  moments 
of  my  life,  and  one  I  shall 
never  forget.  It  meant  so 


732     An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.     [Dec. 


much  to  each  ofj[us — liberty, 
home,  food,  and  the  beginning 
of  a  new  and  better  life.  Whilst 
the  other  foreigners  were  being 
received  I  stood  motionless, 
looking  back  on  that  road  we 
had  just  traversed,  and  my 
heart  ached  for  the  thousands 
of  suffering  people  I  had  left 
behind,  who  were  the  innocent 
victims  of  that  horde  of  fan- 
atics. 

When  all  the  refugees  had 
passed  through  the  little  gate, 
we  were  taken  farther  up  the 
line  to  a  spotlessly  clean  wait- 
ing-room, where  we  were  sup- 
plied with  a  substantial  plate 
of  quaker  oats,  milk  and 
sugar,  and  a  cup  of  coffee, 
white  bread  and  butter,  and 
a  dough-nut.  Most  of  our 
company  were  simply  speech- 
less at  receiving  such  luxurious 
fare,  for  it  was  years  since 
they  had  seen  such  things. 
Every  one  was  so  kind  and 
polite  to  us  ;  but  what  struck 
us  most  was  the  extreme 
cleanliness  and  order  of  every- 
thing and  everybody.  After 
our  refreshing  meal  we  went 
by  train  to  a  place  called 
Terijoki,  where  our  tempera- 
tures were  taken,  and  then 
we  were  housed  in  two  villas. 
We  remained  in  Terijoki  in 
quarantine  over  three  weeks. 
We  were  fed  very  well,  and 
given  Finnish  money  to  buy 
any  little  extra  necessity.  The 
Vice-Consul  from  Helsingfors 
came  one  day  to  question  us. 
When  he  heard  my  name  he 
said  :  "So  you  are  the  famous 
Miss  Bowler  ?  Well,  I  do 
congratulate  you  on  your  de- 


livery from  the  Bolsheviks." 
When  I  asked  him  how  he 
had  heard  of  me,  he  said  that 
I  had  given  trouble  to  every 
one  from  the  Consul  at  Hel- 
singfors to  Lord  Curzon  in 
London ;  because  when  they 
tried  to  trace  me  I  disappeared 
from]  prison  to  prison,  and 
they  had  despaired  of  ever 
being  able  to  get  me.  On  the 
24th  December  we  left  Teri- 
joki for  Hango,  where  we  ar- 
rived the  next  day.  After  five 
days'  pleasant  sailing  via  Copen- 
hagen we  arrived  at  Hull  on 
30th  December  1920.  I  had 
been  eleven  years  away  from 
England,  and  arrived  home 
literally  a  pauper.  All  that  I 
had  earned  during  thirteen 
years  had  been  confiscated, 
and  I  [came  back  just  as  I 
stood,  without  any  luggage 
whatever,  and  without  a  penny 
in  the  world. 

My  story  is  told  entirely tfrom 
an  individual  point  of  view. 
It  is  not  concerned  with  politics 
or  European  commercial  rela- 
tions. It  is  merely  the  story 
of  a  woman  who  has  endured 
much,  and  who  knows  the 
horror  which  is  in  Eussia  from 
the  inside,  and  who  speaks  of 
what  she  has  seen  and  suffered. 
I  have  seen  Bolshevism  from 
its  genesis  until  November  1920. 
I  wish  I  could  say  something 
good  about  it,  but  I  have  ex- 
perienced such  ghastly  horrors 
that  I  can  only  say  I  am  thank- 
ful to  God  I  have  escaped  from 
that  hell.  I  have  lived  there 
six  and  a  half  years  under  the 
Czar  and  with  the  Bolsheviks. 
I  know  the  language,  and  have 


1921.]    An  Englishwoman's  Experiences  in  Bolshevik  Prisons.    733 


the  experience  necessary  to 
make  comparisons,  totally  un- 
like those  visitors  to  Eussia 
under  Bolshevist  auspices,  who 
have  joyously  described  with 
all  the  credulity  of  the  wilfully 
blind  the  remarkable  unanim- 
ity of  the  workmen  and  the 
Bolsheviks  .The  truth  is,  the 
strength  of  the  Bolshevik  posi- 
tion lies  in  the  fact  that  no 
one  who  opposes  them  can 
live.  The  greater  part  of  the 
population  loathes  the  Soviet 
Government,  to  which  it  is  in 
abject  slavery.  The  Eussians 
only  dissemble  loyalty  in  order 
to  escape  arrest.  Most  of  the 
people  do  not  care  who  rules 
— the  Whites  or  the  Eeds, — it 
is  immaterial  to  them.  They 
only  want  peace  with  the  world, 
which  will  ameliorate  their  suf- 
ferings. Under  Bolshevism  per- 
sonal freedom  has  vanished — 
robbery  and  outrage  is  its 
creed. 

Force  has  been  openly  advo- 
cated in  England  as  being  the 
only  means  by  which  a  speedy 
"  victory  "  can  be  gained.  We 
have  been  recommended  by  the 
agitators  to  follow  Eussia,  where 
three-fourths  of  its  people  are 
illiterate.  After  all  we  have 
heard  of  the  horrors  of  Bol- 
shevism, we  sons  and  daughters 
of  free  Britain  are  advised  to 


follow  Eussia !  Lenin  and 
Trotsky  were  successful  in  their 
bloody  revolution.  The  pro- 
letariat have  overthrown  the 
capitalists,  but  they  have  not 
got  what  they  were  promised. 
They  are  more  oppressed 
now  than  ever  they  were. 
Lenin  and  his  satellites  have 
brought  Eussia  to  a  complete 
economic  ruin,  and  have 
wrecked  the  homes,  lives,  and 
careers  of  millions.  They  have 
destroyed  more  people  in  their 
three  years'  reign  than  the 
Czars  did  in  hundreds  of  years. 
Their  autocracy  has  ^brought 
Eussia  to  starvation,  disease, 
and  death. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the 
time  is  drawing  nigh  when 
peace  and  order  will  come  to 
Eussia.  Already  Bolshevism 
is  dying  and  disintegrating. 
Soon  Lenin  and  his  despotic 
partner  will  be  obliged  to  seek 
refuge  in  that  land  where  they 
have  stored  up  their  ill-gotten 
gold  for  a  "  rainy  day,"  if  they 
do  not  receive  a  well-merited 
punishment  before  then  ;  and 
I  hope,  for  the  sake  of  the  poor 
suffering  Eussians,  that  the 
day  is  not  far  distant  when 
they  will  be  liberated  from 
these  two  evil  spirits,  for 
they  have  made  a  hell  of 
Eussia. 


734 


[Dec. 


A  FISHING   TEIP   IN   THE   EMEEALD   ISLE. 


BY   A.   W.   LONG. 


ENGLISH  people,  who  have 
once  come  under  the  spell  of 
the  fascinating  and  ever-chang- 
ing beauty  of  the  West  of 
Ireland,  used  to  return  there 
year  after  year — some  for  fish- 
ing and  shooting,  while  others 
went  simply  to  enjoy  the  won- 
derful beauty  of  the  scenery, 
which  is  never  the  same  for 
two  days  in  succession,  and 
will  even  completely  change  in 
the  course  of  a  few  hours,  ow- 
ing to  the  sudden  and  violent 
changes  in  the  atmospheric 
conditions  of  the  Atlantic.  And 
though  the  scenery  is  naturally 
grand  and  wild,  yet  there  is 
no  doubt  that  its  chief  charm 
lies  in  the  wonderful  lights  and 
shades  of  colour  imparted  to 
mountain  and  moor  by  these 
peculiar  atmospheric  conditions, 
largely  caused  by  the  close 
proximity  of  the  Gulf  Stream. 

Hardly  had  my  brother 
Charles  and  I  returned  from 
our  shooting  trip  in  the  West 
of  Ireland  than  we  began  to 
make  plans  for  a  fishing  trip 
there  the  following  summer ; 
before  a  month  had  passed  we 
had  determined  to  include 
spring  fishing  if  possible,  and 
finally  to  put  in  an  autumn's 
pike  -  fishing  on  some  of  the 
great  western  lakes,  and  to 
wind  up  with  another  winter's 
shooting. 


Unfortunately  we  showed  too 
great  an  enthusiasm,  with  the 
result  that  our  sister  Mary 
announced  her  intention  of 
accompanying  us  on  this  trip 
and  seeing  for  herself  this  won- 
derful country  about  which  she 
said  we  were  always  raving — 
which  meant  that  Mary's  dog 
"  Dash,"  a  black  spaniel,  over- 
fed and  under-disciplined  from 
its  youth,  would  surely  make  a 
fourth. 

Charles  hastily  tried  to  ex- 
plain to  her  that^the  western 
climate  of  Ireland  was  far  too 
damp  for  dogs,  and  that  all 
the  dogs  we  had  seen  there 
were  martyrs  to  rheumatism  ; 
further,  that  the  dogs  there, 
like  the  natives,  were  ever 
ready  to  fight,  and  that  there 
was  no  limit  to  the  number  of 
bites  allowed  to  these  savage 
dogs  by  Irish  law.  But  it  was 
too  late,  and  Mary  again  ex- 
pressed her  intention  of  taking 
the  dog,  and  that  was  the  end 
of  it. 

Once  more  Mary  rifled  all 
the  second-hand  bookshops  she 
knew  of,  not  only  for  books 
on  the  West  of  Ireland,  but 
for  old  treatises  on  the  gentle 
art  of  angling,  and  again  we 
were  nightly  regaled  with  ex- 
tracts from  these  old  books — 
some  amusing,  others  trying. 

Though   not   a   fisherwoman 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


735 


nor  by  any  means  stupid,  yet 
even  Mary  was  greatly  puzzled 
by  the  following  fishing  story 
which  she  found  in  one  of 
these  old  Irish  books,  and  read 
out  to  us  in  spite  of  the  groans 
of  Charles. 

"  The  voracity  of  the  pike 
is  most  strongly  exemplified  in 
the  following  extract  from  a 
provincial  newspaper.  Of  the 
truth  of  the  occurrence  we  pre- 
sume that  there  can  be  no 
reasonable  doubt,  even  in  the 
minds  of  the  most  sceptical ; 
but  we  believe  that  there  is 
no  instance  of  animal  ferocity 
on  record  which  could  parallel 
it,  excepting  the  celebrated 
case  of  the  Kilkenny  cats, 
whose  respective  demolition  of 
each  other  is  as  wonderful  as 
authentic.  A  party  of  anglers 
on  one  of  the  large  lakes  in 
Connaught  made  one  of  the 
members  to  sit  across  the 
head  of  the  boat  as  a  punish- 
ment inflicted  on  him  for  wear- 
ing his  spurs  when  on  a  fishing 
expedition.  Another,  having 
caught  a  small  perch,  stuck  it 
on  one  of  the  spurs,  which  he 
(the  delinquent  in  the  bow), 
not  perceiving,  in  a  few  minutes 
an  enormous  pike  bit  at  the 
perch,  and  the  spur  being  crane- 
necked,  entangled  in  the  gills 
of  the  pike,  which  in  attempt- 
ing to  extricate  itself,  actually 
pulled  the  unfortunate  person 
out  of  the  boat.  He  was  with 
difficulty  dragged  on  shore  and 
the  pike  taken,  which  was 
found  to  be  of  prodigious  size. 
Now  after  this  cautionary  notice 
of  ours,  we  do  assert  that  any 
gentleman  who  goes  to  fish  in 


crane-necks,  and  disposes  of 
his  legs  overboard  with  a  perch 
on  the  rowel,  is  not  exactly 
the  person  on  whose  life,  were 
we  agents  to  a  company,  we 
should  feel  justified  in  effecting 
a  policy  of  insurance." 

And  to  increase  our  know- 
ledge of  fishing  we  were  given 
the  following  "  maxims  of  fish- 
ing," in  spite  of  Charles's  pro- 
tests that  he  already  knew 
quite  well  how  to  fish. 

"  Do  not  imagine  that,  be- 
cause a  fish  does  not  instantly 
dart  off  on  first  seeing  you,  he 
is  less  aware  of  your  presence  ; 
he  almost  always  on  such  occa- 
sions ceases  to  feed  and  pays 
you  the  compliment  of  devot- 
ing his  whole  attention  to  you, 
whilst  he  is  preparing  for  a 
start  whenever  the  apprehended 
danger  becomes  sufficiently  im- 
minent. 

"  If  you  pass  your  fly  neatly 
and  well  three  times  over  a 
trout,  and  he  refuses  it,  do  not 
wait  any  longer  for  him  ;  you 
may  be  sure  he  has  seen  the 
line  of  invitation  which  you 
have  sent  over  the  water  to 
him,  and  does  not  intend  to 
answer. 

"  Eemember  that,  in  whip- 
ping with  the  artificial  fly,  it 
must  have  time  when  you  have 
drawn  it  out  of  the  water  to 
make  the  whole  circuit,  and 
to  be  at  one  time  straight  be- 
hind you  before  it  can  be 
driven  out  straight  before  you. 
If  you  give  it  the  forward  im- 
pulse too  soon,  you  will  hear 
a  crack :  take  this  as  a  hint 
that  your  fly  has  gone  to  grass. 

"  It  appears  to  me  that,  in 


736 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


whipping  with,  an  artificial  fly, 
there  are  only  two  courses  in 
which  a  fish  taking  the  fly 
will  inf  allibly  hook  himself  with- 
out your  assistance — viz.,  first, 
when  your  fly  touches  the 
water  at  the  end  of  a  straight 
line ;  second,  when  you  are 
drawing  your  fly  for  a  new 
throw.  In  all  other  cases  it 
is  necessary  that,  in  order  to 
hook  him  when  he  has  taken 
the  fly,  you  should  do  some- 
thing with  your  wrist  which  is 
not  easy  to  describe. 

"  If  your  line  should  fall 
loose  and  wavy  into  the  water, 
it  will  either  frighten  away  the 
fish,  or  he  will  take  the  fly 
into  his  mouth  without  fasten- 
ing himself  ;  and  when  he  finds 
that  it  will  not  answer  his  pur- 
pose, he  will  spit  it  out  again 
before  it  has  answered  yours. 

"  Never  mind  what  they  of 
the  old  school  say  about  '  play- 
ing him  until  he  is  tired  ' — 
much  and  valuable  time,  and 
many  a  good  fish,  may  be  lost 
by  this  antiquated  proceeding. 
Put  him  into  your  basket  as 
soon  as  you  can.  Everything 
depends  on  the  manner  in 
which  you  commence  your  ac- 
quaintance with  him.  If  you 
can  at  first  prevail  upon  him 
to  walk  a  little  way  down- 
stream with  you,  you  will  have 
no  difficulty  afterwards  in  per- 
suading him  to  let  you  have 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  at 
dinner. 

"Do  not  leave  off  fishing 
early  in  the  evening  because 
your  friends  are  tired.  After 
a  bright  day,  the  largest  fish 
are  to  be  caught  by  whipping 


between  sunset  and  dark.  Even, 
however,  in  these  precious  mo- 
ments you  will  not  have  good 
sport  if  you  continue  throwing 
after  you  have  whipped  your 
fly  off.  Pay  attention  to  this  ; 
and,  if  you  have  any  doubt 
after  dusk,  you  may  easily 
ascertain  the  point  by  drawing 
the  end  of  the  line  quickly 
through  your  hand,  particu- 
larly if  you  do  not  wear  gloves. 

"  When  you  have  got  hold 
of  a  good  fish  which  is  not 
very  tractable,  if  you  are  mar- 
ried, gentle  reader,  think  of 
your  wife,  who,  like  the  fish, 
is  united  to  you  by  very  tender 
ties,  which  can  only  end  with 
her  death,  or  her  going  into 
weeds.  If  you  are  single,  the 
loss  of  the  fish,  when  you 
thought  the  prize  your  own, 
may  remind  you  of  some  more 
serious  disappointment." 

Much  as  Charles  and  I  would 
have  liked  to  return  to  the 
Brogans'  shooting-lodge,  yet  on 
talking  the  matter  over  we  de- 
cided that  it  would  be  wiser 
to  try  and  find  a  house  with 
better  accommodation,  as  Mary 
and  Dash  were  to  be  of  the 
party.  I  was  sorry  not  to  go 
to  the  Brogans'  again,  but  was 
quite  sure  that  if  we  did  Paddy 
or  Grouse  would  eat  Dash, 
and  that  all  hope  of  peace  or 
quiet  would  be  gone  for  ever 
as  long  as  Mary  remained  at 
the  lodge. 

Advertisements  in  the 
'  Field '  and  '  Irish  Times  ' 
brought  us  shoals  of  the  usual 
answers — after  our  previous 
experience  of  advertising  for  a 
shooting  Charles  had  suggested 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


737 


that  it  might  be  as  well  to 
advertise  for  a  hunting-box  or 
a  poultry  farm — in  fact,  every 
hard-up  landlord  in  the  whole 
of  the  South  and  West  ap- 
peared to  be  anxious  to  let  us 
his  house. 

At  last,  when  we  were  in 
despair,  a  letter  came  from  an 
undertaker  in  the  West,  who, 
from  the  printed  inscriptions  at 
the  top  of  his  writing-paper, 
appeared  to  out  -  Whiteley 
Whiteley.  He  sold  the  best 
of  Irish  and  Scotch  whisky,  also 
Guinness's  XXX  stout ;  would 
bury  you  and  provide  a  fitting 
tombstone,  mourning  coaches 
a  speciality.  If  you  wanted 
a  castle  or  a  cabin,  he  could 
give  you  a  grand  selection ; 
was  agent  for  German  pianos 
and  American  reaping-mach- 
ines, English  sewing-machines 
and  Belgian  bicycles  ;  and  last- 
ly, supplied  fresh  bread  twice 
a  week  at  your  door,  and  re- 
joiced in  the  name  of  Paddy 
Mulligan. 

Mr  Mulligan  begged  to  offer 
us  the  finest  sporting  estate 
in  the  West  of  Ireland,  situated 
amidst  romantic  scenery  ;  the 
best  of  spring  fishing,  also 
grilse  and  sea-trout  fishing  ;  an 
unique  old  Irish  house  with 
a  full  staff  of  servants  inside 
and  out :  in  fact,  as  Mr  Mulli- 
gan put  it,  the  place  might 
have  walked  straight  out  of 
one  of  Charles  Lever's  books. 

Charles  was  preparing  meth- 
odically to  file  this  letter  with 
the  others,  when  Mary,  who 
had  by  now  started  to  read 
Lever  and  was  in  the  middle 
of  '  Charles  O'Malley,'  inter- 


vened, and  insisted  that  it  was 
just  the  place  we  were  looking 
for, — did  not  Mr  Mulligan  say 
that  the  fishing  was  of  the  very 
best,  and  she  would  never  be 
happy  until  she  had  lived  in  a 
real  "  Eackrent  Hall." 

Charles  and  I  did  our  best 
— we  offered  to  take  her  abroad, 
even  round  the  world,  and  reck- 
lessly threw  in  Dash  in  our 
agony,  but  it  was  quite  use- 
less :  that  very  evening  it  was 
decided  that  we  should  take 
up  our  abode  at  "  Eackrent 
Hall "  as  soon  as  the  mere 
detail  of  rent  could  be  fixed. 
And  Mary  refused  to  go  to 
bed  until  the  letter  to  Mr  Mul- 
ligan had  been  written.  Charles 
sulked  for  fully  a  week,  but 
that  only  made  Mary  more 
determined,  and  we  had  to 
make  up  our  minds  to  make 
the  best  of  it. 

We  sbill  had  hopes  that  Mr 
Mulligan  might  ask  a  preposj 
terous  rent ;  but  his  reply, 
which  came  by  return  of  post, 
killed  this  last  hope  of  escape. 
It  appeared  that  the  place 
belonged  to  an  old  couple  who 
came  of  the  "  real  old  quality," 
and  who  had  spent  their  lives 
there,  but  now  had  suddenly 
been  ordered  abroad  by  their 
doctor  on  account  of  the  old 
lady's  health.  The  place,  all 
the  sporting  rights,  fishing  and 
shooting,  would  be  let  for  half 
nothing  to  careful  tenants,  and 
the  wages  of  all  the  servants 
would  be  paid  by  the  owners. 

Charles  remarked  that  it  was 
useless  to  fight  against  fate, 
and  that  he  only  prayed  that 
the  fishing  would  turn  out  to 


738 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


be  a  quarter  as  good  as  Mulli- 
gan's account  made  out. 

During  the  next  few  days 
we  spent  most  of  OUT  time  in 
fishing-tackle  shops  and  fitted 
ourselves  out  for  every  kind 
of  fishing  ;  luckily  Mary  showed 
no  inclination  to  fish,  confining 
her  attention  to  panoramic 
cameras  and  books. 

At  last  we  got  started,  going 
by  the  night  mail  from  Euston, 
and  on  arriving  at  Holyhead 
proceeded  to  board  the  mail- 
boat.  Here  Mary  met  her 
match  in  the  form  of  an 
Irish  steward.  Charles,  seeing 
the  coming  storm,  disappeared 
at  once,  muttering  something 
about  seeing  after  the  luggage. 

Mary  had  made  up  her  mind 
that  Dash  was  to  sleep  with 
her  in  a  cabin,  which  had  been 
ordered  by  wire,  in  order  that 
she  might  attend  to  the  dog 
if  he  was  sea-sick,  whilst  the 
steward  was  equally  firm  that 
Dash  was  to  make  the  voyage 
in  the  cook's  galley. 

Mary  replied  that  cooks  al- 
ways gave  dogs  bones,  and  that 
bones  and  the  smell  of  cooking 
were  bound  to  make  Dash  both 
ill  and  sea-sick. 

At  this  point  I  stupidly  sug- 
gested that  Mary  might  like 
to  stay  with  Dash  in  the  cook's 
galley,  to  look  after  him  and 
make  certain  that  the  cook 
gave  him  no  bones,  only  to  be 
told  to  mind  my  own  business. 

A  complete  deadlock  ap- 
peared imminent,  and  we  looked 
like  spending  the  voyage  argu- 
ing in  the  gangway  with  the 
steward.  Then  the  wily  Irish- 
man suggested  that,  as  it  was 


a  fine  night  (it  wasn't),  Mary 
might  Like  to  sit  up  on  deck 
and  keep  the  dog  with  her. 
Honours  were  now  easy,  and 
after  wrapping  Mary  up  in 
rugs,  I  retired  to  the  warmth 
of  the  smoking-room. 

We  did  not  see  Charles  again 
until  the  boat  was  moored 
alongside  the  pier  at  Kings- 
town, when  he  informed  us 
that  he  had  spent  most  of  the 
night  searching  the  boat  for 
us,  and  that  he  had  been  quite 
anxious. 

We  missed  the  early  morn- 
ing breakfast  train  from  the 
Broadstone  Station  to  the  West 
owing  to  some  infernal  box 
containing  Dash's  kit  being 
lost,  and  found  ourselves  with 
several  hours  to  wait  in  Dublin. 
After  breakfast  at  the  Shel- 
bourne,  Charles  and  I  left  Mary 
and  Dash  there,  and  set  out 
to  try  and  hire  or  buy  a  car. 

It  would  appear  that  in 
Ireland,  if  you  want  to  buy 
a  motor-car  and  the  shopkeeper 
has  not  got  one  for  sale,  noth- 
ing will  induce  him  to  say  so  ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  will  at  once 
offer  to  sell  you  something  else, 
quite  ignoring  the  fact  that 
you  have  asked  for  a  motor — 
it  may  be  a  sewing-machine, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may 
be  a  self-binding  reaping-ma- 
chine. 

And  so  we  found  it  in  Dublin. 
On  entering  the  first  motor 
shop  we  found,  and  asking  the 
man  if  he  had  a  car  for  hire, 
he  counter-attacked  by  trying 
to  palm  off  on  us  an  ancient 
motor-bicycle  and  side-car ;  and 
when  we  firmly  refused  he 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


739 


switched  on  to  a  motor  mowing- 
machine  in  a  perfectly  natural 
and  easy  manner,  as  though 
conferring  a  favour  on  us. 

After  trying  in  vain  at  five 
different  shops  to  hire  a  decent 
car,  we  determined  to  buy  a 
new  Ford;  and  after  making 
the  necessary  arrangements  for 
the  car  to  be  sent  on  after  us, 
we  returned  to  the  hotel  to 
collect  Mary. 

As  we  were  leaving  the  hotel 
a  housemaid  came  running  after 
Mary,  holding  in  her  fingers  a 
bright  new  farthing,  which  she 
handed  to  Mary  with  the  re- 
mark that  "  perhaps  her  lady- 
ship might  be  setting  some 
value  on  this  little  coin."  For 
a  second  Mary  did  not  under- 
stand, then  realising  that  she 
must  have  given  the  girl  the 
bright  new  farthing  in  mistake 
for  a  sixpence,  she  handed  the 
girl  a  shilling  and  walked  out 
of  the  hotel  hall  with  her  nose 
in  the  air,  followed  by  the 
grinning  Charles.  On  our  way 
to  the  station  Charles  remarked 
that  he  had  never  heard  a 
better  criticism  of  the  amount 
of  a  tip,  and  Mary  could  only 
retort  that  the  girl  was  a  hussy. 

Our  journey  lay  due  west, 
and  we  could  not  help  noticing 
the  wonderful  vivid  green  of 
the  fields  after  England,  and, 
as  on  our  former  trip,  the  com- 
plete lack  of  any  beauty  in 
the  landscape  of  the  centre  of 
Ireland. 

But  the  farther  west  we  went 
the  wilder  grew  the  scenery, 
until  at  last  the  train  passed 
through  an  endless  panorama 
of  mountains,  lakes,  and  great 

VOL.  COX. — NO.  MCOLXXIY. 


valleys,  and  everywhere  an  in- 
describable softness  and  air  of 
mystery.  Villages  and  farm- 
houses grew  smaller  and  smaller 
and  fewer  and  fewer,  until  we 
seemed  to  be  passing  into  an 
uninhabited  wilderness  ;  only 
at  rare  intervals  could  one 
detect  with  difficulty  an  odd 
small  low  cottage  hiding  itself 
in  some  sheltered  valley. 

At  long  intervals  the  train 
would  stop  at  some  station, 
built  for  no  apparent  reason 
in  the  midst  of  an  open  moor. 
For  several  minutes  nothing 
would  happen,  then,  very  slowly 
and  with  endless  chatter,  quaint 
brown  -  faced  women  covered 
with  shawls  and  showing  bril- 
liant scarlet-flannel  petticoats, 
their  skirts  pinned  up  high  out 
of  harm's  way,  and  carrying 
large  empty  baskets,  would 
descend  from  the  train.  The 
station  and  train  staffs  would 
at  once  start  an  animated 
political  argument,  which  one 
began  to  think  would  never 
end,  until  suddenly  the  guard 
would  take  a  notion  to  blow 
his  whistle  frantically,  and 
we  would  pull  slowly  out  of 
the  station,  while  the  station- 
master  and  engine-driver  would 
endeavour  to  get  in  the  last 
word  of  the  argument  at  the 
top  of  their  voices. 

At  last  we  reached  our  desti- 
nation, a  tiny  grey  station  on 
the  shores  of  a  lake  hemmed  in 
on  all  sides  by  mountains,  and 
found  a  convoy  of  outside  cars 
and  carts  waiting  for  us.  We 
were  received  with  every  mark 
of  respect  by  the  wild-looking 
drivers — men  and  boys  ranging 
2  E 


740 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


in  ages  from  seventy  to  four- 
teen, and  dressed  in  grey  and 
brown  homespuns. 

Mary  and  I  with  Dash  set 
off  at  once  on  one  outside  car, 
leaving  Charles  to  follow  on 
the  other  after  he  had  super- 
intended the  packing  of  our 
kit  on  the  carts,  and  if  our 
progress  was  slow  we  did  not 
notice  it  in  enjoying  the  scenery. 

After  leaving  the  station  the 
road  turned  north,  following 
the  shores  of  a  long  narrow  lake 
dotted  with  small  wooded 
islands,  from  the  shores  of 
which  the  mountains  rose 
straight  up  on  both  sides,  the 
road  in  places  being  simply  a 
ledge  on  the  mountain-side. 

It  was  now  one  of  those  per- 
fectly clear  West  of  Ireland 
afternoons  when  there  does  not 
appear  to  be  a  vestige  of  mois- 
ture in  the  air ;  and  in  the 
wonderful  light  one  could  see 
and  even  count  every  rock  to 
the  very  tops  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  make  out  with  ease 
the  difference  between  a  moun- 
tain sheep  and  a  wild  goat 
quite  fifteen  hundred  feet  above 
us. 

We  must  have  driven  miles 
without  meeting  a  human  being. 
Twice  the  car  disturbed  small 
packs  of  grouse,  busy  dusting 
themselves  on  the  sandy  sur- 
face of  the  road,  and  once  an 
otter  and  cubs  crossed  the  road 
only  a  few  yards  ahead  of  us. 
Several  times  we  saw  hovering 
kestrels  intent  on  finding  their 
supper,  but  no  small  birds  ex- 
cept a  few  bog  larks. 

We  must  have  driven  about 
fifteen  miles,  the  road  rising 


gradually  all  the  time,  before 
we  reached  the  gate  lodge  of 
"  Eackrent  Hall,"  and  after  the 
gates  had  been  opened  by  a 
small  barefooted  gossoon,  we 
told  the  driver  to  walk  his 
horse  down  the  avenue,  so  that 
we  could  take  in  the  scenery. 

The  avenue  appeared  to  lead 
straight  down  into  a  long  nar- 
row arm  of  the  sea,  which 
looked  as  though  it  had  been 
brought  from  Norway  and  fitted 
into  the  West  Coast  of  Ireland, 
a  perfect  fiord  about  seven 
miles  in  length  and  with  an 
average  width  of  half  a  mile, 
with  sheer  mountains  on  each 
side  for  its  full  length,  and  at 
the  narrow  mouth  a  glimpse  of 
the  open  Atlantic,  now  lit  up 
by  the  fast  sinking  sun  on 
the  western  horizon.  At  first 
the  mountain  land  ran  up  to 
the  sides  of  the  avenue,  while 
in  the  near  foreground  there 
were  woods,  some  of  fir  and 
larch,  but  chiefly  of  oak  and 
hazel,  and  here  and  there  groups 
of  birch  and  Scotch  fir,  and 
large  patches  of  gorse,  a  blaze 
of  yellow,  in  the  open  spaces 
between  the  woods. 

After  about  half  a  mile  we 
came  to  the  grounds :  great 
patches  of  holly  bushes  and 
rhododendrons,  and  small  green 
fields  surrounded  by  great 
hedges  of  fuchsias,  but  still  no 
sign  of  the  house. 

At  last  we  came  to  a  point 
where  the  avenue  became  as 
steep  as  the  side  of  a  moun- 
tain, and  below  us  lay  the 
house,  or  rather,  at  first  sight, 
it  looked  like  a  collection  of 
houses  joined  together. 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


741 


And  the  view  here  was  quite 
the  finest  I  have  ever  seen. 
The  house  stood  about  two 
hundred  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea,  and  beyond  it  the 
land  fell  away  sheer  to  the 
water ;  and  so  clear  was  the  air 
that  it  looked  as  though  you 
could  throw  a  stone  with  ease 
from  the  hall  door  into  the  sea 
— in  reality  a  distance  of  nearly 
a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

At  the  back  of  the  house, 
about  half  a  mile  away,  ran 
a  long  narrow  ridge  covered 
with  stunted  oak-trees  at  the 
top  and  beech-trees  at  the  foot, 
which  sheltered  the  house  com- 
pletely from  the  westerly  gales. 
In  every  other  direction  as  far 
as  you  could  see,  mountains 
and  yet  more  mountains,  and 
the  sea  at  your  feet. 

When  we  entered  the  hall 
the  place  seemed  to  be  packed 
with  servants  of  all  ages  and 
sizes,  waiting  to  welcome  us 
eagerly.  A  small  squat  man 
bade  us  a  thousand  welcomes, 
and  told  me  he  was  Patsey 
the  butler — asked  if  we  would 
like  a  fresh  spring  fish  for 
dinner,  and  without  waiting 
for  an  answer  bade  us  follow 
him. 

Patsey  led  us  down  by  a 
winding  path  towards  the  sea 
to  a  tiny  gravel  bay,  where  we 
found  a  group  of  wild-looking 
men  just  hauling  in  a  salmon- 
net.  They  caught  about  a 
dozen  grand  silvery  spring  fish 
that  haul,  out  of  which  Patsey 
picked  a  perfect  fish  of  about 
ten  pounds  with  sea-lice  still 
on,  tied  the  fish  up  head  and 
tail  with  a  piece  of  twine,  and 


conducted  us  back  to  the  house 
and  dinner. 

At  dinner-time  we  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Patsey 's  assist- 
ants— Porgeen,  the  first  foot- 
man, and  Maria,  the  second 
footman.  Porgeen  was  quite 
the  queerest-looking  man  I 
have  ever  seen,  or  probably 
ever  will  see  :  a  small  man  and 
very  thin,  painfully  thin,  whose 
chief  features  at  first  sight 
appeared  to  be  a  sloping  fore- 
head, a  huge  pointed  nose,  no 
chin,  a  great  Adam's-apple  set 
in  a  long  thin  neck,  no  body, 
ending  in  a  pair  of  enormous 
flat  feet.  Dressed  in  an  old 
livery  swallow-tail  coat,  the 
tails  of  which  were  not  far 
from  the  ground,  and  a  pair  of 
grey  tweed  trousers  ending  in 
fully  half  a  dozen  wrinkles 
over  his  shoes,  he  presented  a 
truly  wonderful  sight,  and  as 
regards  waiting  at  table  was 
quite  useless. 

Maria,  a  girl  as  her  name 
implies,  was  the  reverse  of 
Porgeen  in  every  respect  ex- 
cept the  feet.  Her  wild  shock 
of  flaming  red  hair,  capless, 
contrasted  strangely  with  Por- 
geen's  wisp  of  scanty  grey 
locks,  and  she  could  have  given 
the  old  man  sufficient  flesh  to 
make  his  figure  appear  human 
and  not  have  missed  it.  But 
Maria  made  an  excellent  foot- 
man, obeying  Patsey's  loud 
orders  at  a  double,  while  Por- 
geen reminded  one  of  a  family 
jester  of  old. 

Opposite  to  where  Mary  sat 
was  a  magnificent  old  mahogany 
sideboard,  with  the  bottom 
corner  of  one  of  the  cupboard 


742 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


doors  eaten  away.  Soon  after 
dinner  had  started  Mary  asked 
Patsey  what  had  happened  to 
this  door.  "  Eats,  miss,"  an- 
swered Patsey.  "  Sure  the 
place  bes  alive  wid  them." 
Towards  the  end  of  dinner 
Dash,  who  was  lying  in  front 
of  the  fire,  made  a  wild  rush 
for  a  great  bookcase  which 
lined  one  wall  of  the  room, 
upsetting  Porgeen  carrying  a 
pile  of  plates  on  his  way,  and 
started  to  bark  furiously  at 
something  behind  the  book- 
case. 

Mary  lost  no  time  in  standing 
on  her  chair,  and  the  sudden 
and  terrific  yells  of  Patsey  to 
his  underlings  made  her  gather 
her  skirts  closely  round  her  legs. 

Apparently  a  rat  -  hunt  in 
the  dining-room  was  an  every- 
day occurrence  from  the 
promptitude  with  which  Maria 
stopped  up  a  large  rat-hole 
under  one  of  the  windows,  and, 
swiftly  seizing  the  poker,  took 
up  a  waiting  position  at  the 
opposite  end  of  the  bookcase 
to  Dash.  Porgeen  merely 
rushed  aimlessly  about  the 
room. 

Patsey  then,  seeing  that  all 
was  ready,  tiptoed  over  to 
Dash's  end,  took  hold  of  the 
protruding  butt  of  a  Castle 
Connell  salmon-rod,  and  started 


to  rattle  it  behind  the  bookcase 
for  all  he  was  worth. 

The  rat  had  his  choice  be- 
tween Maria  and  Dash,  and 
foolishly  chanced  the  former, 
to  be  laid  out  flat  by  a  well- 
directed  blow  of  the  poker ; 
but  a  second  rat  swiftly  fol- 
lowed— startled  by  an  unearthly 
scream  from  the  frenzied  Patsey 
— to  be  badly  missed  by  Maria, 
and  Dash  joining  in,  a  wild 
hunt  round  and  round  the  room 
started. 

Maria,  who  up  to  now  had 
kept  her  head  splendidly,  un- 
fortunately got  excited — Patsey 
never  ceased  yelling  directions 
to  her — and,  aiming  a  savage 
blow  at  the  rat,  missed  it  only 
to  take  the  following  Dash, 
who  was  in  full  chase,  fair  on 
the  nose.  The  dog  had  pro- 
bably never  received  a  hard 
blow  before  in  his  lifetime,  and 
his  frightened  and  surprised 
yowls,  joined  with  Patsey's 
curses  at  Maria,  filled  the  room. 
Mary,  quickly  forgetting  her 
fear  of  rats  in  her  anger  with 
Maria,  jumped  off  her  chair 
and  joined  in  the  chorus,  while 
Charles  and  I  slipped  out  of 
the  room. 

Charles  said  the  noise  had 
given  him  indigestion,  and  re- 
tired to  bed  cursing  all  dogs 
and  rats. 


n. 


I  awoke  the  following  morn-  during  the  night-time  ;  and 
ing  early  to  the  cries  of  sea-  every  time  a  flock  of  these 
birds,  curlew  and  sandpipers  birds  would  pass  over  or  near 
chiefly,  returning  from  feeding  to  the  house,  the  starlings  sit- 
on  the  shores  of  the  ocean  ting  on  the  eve-runs,  busy  with 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


743 


their  morning  toilet  in  the 
spring  sunshine,  would  stop 
gossiping  and  nearly  burst  their 
throats,  imitating  the  cries  of 
the  curlew  and  sandpipers  to 
perfection.  So  well  could  they 
imitate  the  call  of  a  curlew, 
that  on  several  occasions  they 
actually  drew  small  flocks  of 
this  wary  but  very  inquisitive 
bird  from  a  considerable  dis- 
tance to  pass  over  or  round  the 
house,  seeking  in  vain  for  the 
authors  of  the  cries  ;  but  by 
this  time  the  starlings  would 
be  hard  at  their  toilet  again, 
chuckling  with  delight  at  hav- 
ing made  fools  of  the  curlew. 

In  every  direction  across  the 
sunlit  bay  herons  and  cormo- 
rants were  hurrying  off  in 
search  of  food,  the  herons 
being  in  a  hurry  because  their 
young  ones,  in  some  scattered 
nests  perilously  near  the  tops 
of  some  larch -trees  near  the 
house,  were  making  a  noise 
resembling  the  grinding  of 
pebbles,  a  reminder  to  their  pa- 
rents that  their  breakfast  hour 
had  come. 

Lying  in  bed,  I  could  see 
through  the  open  window  the 
whole  panorama  of  mountains 
and  sea,  even  the  glint  of  the 
morning  sun  on  the  breakers  of 
the  open  Atlantic,  and  over  all 
the  wonderful  faint  pearly  haze 
of  an  early  spring  morning. 
In  the  near  foreground  a  family 
of  young  rabbits  were  playing 
hide-and-seek  in  a  large  rhodo- 
dendron-bush, and  from  every 
tree  and  bush  in  the  place  a 
blackbird  or  thrush  was  doing 
his  best  to  thank  God  for  a 
perfect  spring  day.  Patsey  at 


last  broke  the  spell  calling  me 
and  his  voice  even  scared  the 
baby  rabbits. 

Patsey  and  Maria  waited  on 
us  at  breakfast,  discoursing 
freely  to  us  on  the  merits  and 
demerits  of  the  various  dishes 
in  a  perfectly  natural  and 
frank  manner ;  in  fact,  they 
never  stopped  talking  during 
the  meal,  but  were  never  in 
the  slightest  degree  familiar, 
and  always  amusing. 

But  not  a  sign  did  we  see 
of  the  wonderful  and  weird 
Porgeen.  After  breakfast  I 
asked  Patsey  what  had  become 
of  him,  to  be  told  that  Master 
Charles  had  given  orders  that 
he  should  not  attend  at  break- 
fast ;  and  Charles  told  me  after- 
wards that  he  was  not  suffi- 
ciently recovered  from  the  jour- 
ney to  stand  the  shock  of  the 
man's  appearance  at  breakfast. 

We  then  set  out  on  a  tour 
of  inspection  under  the  guid- 
ance of  Patsey,  who  seemed  to 
have  a  complete  and  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  place  and  its 
owners.  The  house  had  obvi- 
ously been  added  to  several 
times,  and  was,  in  fact,  a  col- 
lection of  houses  joined  to- 
gether :  apparently  every  gen- 
eration had  added  on  a  room 
or  rooms  for  his  or  her  special 
hobby.  One  wing  had  been 
built  right  away  from  the  main 
part  of  the  house  by  an  unfor- 
tunate owner  who,  as  Patsey 
put  it,  "  found  himself  landed 
with  a  long  weak  family,"  in 
order  that  he  might  have  some 
peace  and  ease.  Another  part 
had  been  built  by  a  lady  owner 
to  hold  her  pet  dogs  ;  while 


744 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


the  smoking-room  had  been 
built  a  special  size  with  an 
enormous  recess,  to  take  the 
twenty-two-foot  Castle  Connell 
rods,  which  its  owner  affected, 
along  pegs  on  the  wall. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  archi- 
tecture or  rhyme  or  reason  in 
the  house  at  all,  merely  a 
medley  of  rooms  of  all  sizes 
and  shapes. 

After  this  Charles  insisted 
that  we  really  must  find  out 
how  many  servants  there  were 
in  the  place,  adding  that  he  had 
been  round  part  of  the  house 
alone  before  breakfast,  but  had 
got  lost ;  and  that  in  every 
room  he  looked  into  there  was 
either  a  maid  or  a  cat — in  some 
of  them  both. 

Mary  retorted  that  the  ser- 
vants had  nothing  whatever  to 
do  with  Charles,  and  that  she 
would  stand  no  interference 
from  any  one ;  but  Charles 
was  firm,  and,  to  keep  the 
peace,  I  called  Patsey  into  the 
smoking-room. 

On  the  question  being  put 
to  Patsey,  he  replied  that  it 
was  a  "  puzzler,"  but  that  he 
would  do  his  best,  and  then 
proceeded  to  reel  off  a  list 
of  housemaids,  kitchen-maids, 
herds,  garden  boys,  hen- women, 
grooms,  and  odds  and  ends  of 
people  like  stillroom  maids  and 
turf  gossoons,  to  an  accompani- 
ment of  groans  from  Charles, 
who,  when  Patsey  had  finished, 
remarked  that  we  would  be 
ruined  by  the  place.  Patsey 
then  started  off  with  the  char- 
acters of  the  principal  servants. 

Starting  with  Porgeen,  he 
told  us  how,  many  years  ago, 


when  the  mistress  first  started 
housekeeping,  she  wanted  a 
boy  to  help  the  butler  of  those 
days,  and  in  due  course  Por- 
geen presented  himself  for  in- 
spection. When  asked  for  his 
character  and  references  he 
could  produce  none,  but  men- 
tioned casually  the  name  of  a 
certain  butler  who,  he  said, 
would  speak  a  kind  word  for 
him. 

And  when  this  butler  was 
asked  what  he  knew  about 
Porgeen,  he  gave  him  the 
following  dubious  character. 
"Is  it  Porgeen  to  work,  me 
lady  ;  sure  he'll  do  as  much 
work  as  an  ass,  and  by  the 
same  token  he'll  drink  as  much 
as  would  drown  that  same  ass." 
And  with  that  character  Por- 
geen started  his  career  as  a 
pantry-boy,  to  be  promoted 
in  due  course  of  time  to  the 
rank  of  first  footman. 

Charles  remarked  that  he 
hoped  Porgeen  had  outgrown 
the  latter  part  of  his  char- 
acter, to  be  told  by  Patsey 
that  "indeed  he  has  not." 

Maria,  Patsey  informed  us, 
he  had  known  since  a  foot  of 
cloth  would  make  a  coateen 
for  her,  which  we  took  to  mean 
since  she  was  a  baby,  and  that 
she  was  a  quiet  decent  girl, 
but  too  fond  of  dancing  by 
nights. 

But  when  Patsey  came  to 
Biddy  the  cook,  Mary  called  a 
halt  and  swiftly  turned  the 
conversation.  It  would  appear 
that  some  time  or  other  Biddy's 
character  had  suffered  a  "  regu- 
lar blast,"  according  to  Patsey, 
— an  inquiry  by  Charles  was 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


745 


quickly  suppressed  by  Mary  ; 
that  she  could  hide  a  quart  of 
spirits,  and  it  would  never  show 
on  her  ;  that  she  was  mighty 
dangerous  in  any  gentleman's 
place,  and  would  scandalise  the 
family  yet. 

Even  Mary,  accustomed  to 
our  modest  staff  of  servants  at 
home,  was  taken  aback  at 
Patsey's  list  of  menials ;  but, 
womanlike,  quickly  pulled  her- 
self together,  insisted  that  they 
were  all  delightful  and  neces- 
sary for  such  a  place,  and  that 
the  cook  had  told  her  that  they 
eat  nothing  but  potatoes,  cab- 
bages and  bacon,  soda -bread, 
and  fish  which  "  any  one  could 
catch  in  the  say  for  the  ask- 
ing!" 

Seeing  from  the  look  of 
Mary's  set  face  that  further 
argument  was  futile,  I  said 
nothing  ;  but  Charles,  who  had 
been  very  busy  calculating  how 
many  tons  of  bread,  potatoes, 
cabbage,  and  bacon  this  host 
would  consume  in  the  course  of 
a  year,  refused  to  be  quieted, 
and  started  to  wrangle  with 
Mary,  insisting  that  half  of 
the  servants  must  be  got  rid 
of. 

At  this  point  Patsey,  mutter- 
ing that  "  sure  the  craytures 
must  live,"  quickly  faded  from 
the  room,  and  I  quickly  fol- 
lowed suit,  leaving  Mary  and 
the  obstinate  Charles  to  fight 
it  out. 

InVthe  hall  I  found  Eobert, 
the  head  keeper,  waiting  for 
his  interview.  He  told  me 
that  there  would  be  no  spring 
fishing  until  we  had  heavy  rain, 
and  suggested  that,  as  it  was 


a  grand  day,  we  should  drive 
out  with  him  and  have  a  look 
round.  So  calling  Charles,  who 
was  only  too  thankful  to  escape, 
we  made  our  way  to  the  stables 
and  ordered  an  outside  car  to 
be  got  ready  at  once. 

During  the  drive  Eobert  ex- 
plained to  us  that  there  were 
two  salmon  rivers  on  the  estate 
— that  though  they  both  ran 
into  the  bay  within  a  few  miles 
of  each  other,  yet  the  large 
river,  the  Duffmore,  was  only 
good  for  spring  fish,  and  the 
smaller  river,  the  Glenowen, 
for  grilse  and  sea -trout;  and 
that  they  had  always  been 
the  same  since  he  could  re- 
member. 

It  seemed  that  originally — 
Eobert  did  not  know  how  long 
ago,  but  it  must  have  been 
many  thousands  of  years — 
the  north  side  of  the  bay  was 
the  coast-line  of  Ireland,  which 
ran  south-east  towards  Galway 
Bay,  and  that  in  those  days 
the  land  on  which  the  house 
now  stood  did  not  exist.  The 
proof  of  this  was  that  whereas 
red  sandstone  was  to  be  found 
freely  on  the  land  to  the  south, 
on  the  north  side  there  was 
not  a  sign  of  it  anywhere. 
When  the  land  to  the  south  of 
the  bay  was  thrown  up  out  of 
the  sea,  the  smaller  river  was 
formed ;  and,  according  to 
Eobert's  original  theory,  this 
accounted  for  the  salmon  in  it 
being  smaller  than  those  in  the 
Duffmore  river. 

Our  road  ran  along  the  shore 
of  the  bay  for  several  miles, 
when  we  came  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Duffmore  river,  where 


746 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


there  was  a  waterfall  with  quite 
a  good  salmon- ladder  at  one 
side.  Here  we  found  a  small 
salmon  hatchery,  worked  by 
Bobert,  and  of  which  he  spoke 
with  supreme  contempt,  saying 
that  it  was  only  "  providing 
food  for  them  hungry  divils 
of  kelts."  Leaving  the  car  here 
we  walked  up  the  river  for 
fully  four  miles  with  Bobert, 
who  pointed  out  to  us  the 
different  pools,  now  very  low 
owing  to  the  continuous  fine 
weather.  And  though  the  pools 
held  some  water,  the  rest  of 
the  river  was  a  mere  trickle 
over  a  gravel  bed.  Many  of 
the  pools  had  high  banks,  and 
it  was  obvious  that  they  would 
only  fish  well  with  a  strong 
westerly  wind. 

At  one  pool  we  surprised  a 
large  otter — water-dog,  Bobert 
called  him — on  a  rock  with  a 
fine  sea -trout  in  his  mouth  ; 
and  at  a  sharp  bend  in  the 
river  put  up  several  ravens  and 
grey  crows  feeding  on  the  body 
of  a  drowned  sheep,  which  had 
been  left  high  and  dry  on  a 
gravel  bank. 

During  our  walk  we  hardly 
passed  or  saw  a  human  habita- 
tion until  we  were  on  the  point 
of  retracing  our  steps.  Here, 
in  a  straggling  wood  of  stunted 
oak  and  birch  trees,  was  a  low 
thatched  cottage,  where  Bobert 
told  us  that  a  river  watcher 
called  Pat  Lyden  lived. 

Lyden  met  us  at  his  door, 
surrounded  by  barefooted  chil- 
dren (the  smallest  in  a  dress 
made  from  a  flour -sack,  and 
bearing  the  brand  of  the  flour 
in  large  blue  letters  across  his 


little  chest),  hens,  ducks,  and 
several  dogs,  and,  with  the 
western  peasant's  usual  cour- 
tesy, insisted  that  we  should 
enter  his  cottage  to  rest ;  but 
remembering  M'Kensie's  smoky 
home,  Charles  firmly  declined. 
Seeing  a  look  of  pain  and  sur- 
prise in  the  man's  eyes,  I  at 
once  entered  and  endeavoured 
to  make  myself  agreeable. 

While  in  the  river  watcher's 
house  I  several  times  heard  the 
loud  grunts  of  pigs,  but  failed 
to  locate  them  at  all,  and  on 
the  way  back  asked  Bobert  if 
he  knew  where  the  pigs  were. 
"  Indeed  and  I  do  well,  yer 
honour,"  answered  Bobert  with 
a  laugh.  "  Sure  Pateen  always 
kapes  his  pigs  under  his  bed." 
Charles  shuddered,  thankful 
that  he  had  stayed  outside, 
and  remarked  that  it  was  an 
unusual  place.  "  In  troth  yer 
right,  Master  Charles,"  replied 
Bobert;  "but  sure  that  same 
man  has  a  fortune  made  out 
of  them  same  pigs,  and  all 
through  kaping  them  'neath 
the  bed." 

For  some  time  Charles  did 
not  speak:  doubtless  he  was 
trying  to  find  the  connection 
between  a  fortune  and  a  pig 
under  the  bed.  At  last  his 
curiosity  got  the  better  of  his 
dignity,  and  he  asked  Bobert 
how  a  man  could  amass  a  for- 
tune in  such  a  way. 

"  Begorra,"  laughed  Bobert, 
"  many  a  man  has  asked  that 
same  question  of  Pateen  and 
got  no  satisfactory  answer,  but 
sure  I'll  tell  yer  honour.  It's 
easy  enough  to  sell  a  pig,  but 
bad  enough  to  know  the  right 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


747 


time  to  sell  that  same  pig, 
and  that's  where  the  bed  comes 
in." 

Again  Charles  walked  on, 
thinking  hard,  but  still  the 
connection  between  the  fortune 
and  the  pigs  under  Ly den's 
bed  escaped  him,  and  reluc- 
tantly at  last  he  had  to  ask 
Eobert  to  throw  more  light 
on  the  subject. 

"  Sure  yer  honour's  letting 
on  to  be  mighty  simple  (I 
could  see  Charles  squirm  out 
of  the  corner  of  my  eye)  to- 
day," said  Eobert.  "  Pateen 
has  the  bed  set  so  that  when 
his  pigs  is  big  enough  to  make 
bacon  of,  it's  how  they'll  be 
after  rising  the  bed  on  him 
scratching  their  backs — so  they 
would  the  craytures, — and  when 
he  can't  sleep  quiet  and  aisy 
like,  he  knows  it's  time  the 
pigs  be  gone."  And  Charles 
laughed  for  the  first  time  since 
we  came  to  Ireland. 

On  our  way  back  to  the  car 
we  disturbed  several  herons — 
cranes,  Eobert  called  them — 
carefully  stalking  eels  and  small 
brown  trout  in  the  shrunken 
pools.  Dippers  we  saw  wher- 
ever there  were  rocks  stand- 
ing out  of  the  river,  and  at 
one  bend  two  gorgeous  king- 
fishers flashed  past  us,  uttering 
their  sharp  little  wild  screech. 
So  calm  and  peaceful  was  the 
day  that  it  was  hard  to  realise 
that  possibly  in  the  next  twenty- 
four  hours,  so  quickly  does  the 
weather  change  in  the  West  of 
Ireland,  such  a  storm  from  the 
Atlantic  might  be  blowing  that 
it  would  be  nearly  impossible 
to  walk  against  it,  and  to  be 

VOL.  OCX. — NO.  MCCLXXIV. 


out  ten  minutes  in  it  would 
mean  being  wet  to  the  skin. 

On  the  way  home  Eobert 
suggested  that  after  lunch  he 
should  take  us  out  in  the  bay 
to  set  a  spillet  for  flat-fish  near 
the  mouth  of  the  Glenowen 
river,  where  there  was  a  long 
sandbank  famous  for  sole  and 
plaice. 

Lunch  over,  we  set  out  in  a 
fourteen-foot  dinghy,  and  after 
half  an  hour's  row  reached  our 
fishing  ground,  where  we  an- 
chored while  Eobert  put  the 
finishing  touches  to  the  spillet. 

The  spillet,  which  was  coiled 
on  a  wooden  tray,  looked  to 
us  to  be  simply  a  tangle  of 
line  and  hooks,  baited  with 
horrible  -  looking  lugworms. 
However,  Eobert  soon  showed 
us  that  there  was  method  in 
his  tangle,  and  after  buoying 
one  end  of  the  line,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  let  out  the  spillet 
at  a  great  pace,  whilst  Charles 
slowly  rowed  the  boat.  I  did 
not  try  to  count  the  hooks, 
but  Eobert  assured  me  that 
there  were  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  of  them.  After  buoying 
the  end,  we  left  the  spillet 
down  for  two  hours,  and  during 
that  time  tried  to  catch  whiting 
with  hand-lines. 

At  the  end  of  the  two  hours 
we  lifted  the  spillet,  and  though 
many  of  the  hooks  only  held 
starfish  and  small  crabs,  we 
got  altogether  thirty-five  plaice 
and  three  pairs  of  black  sole. 
Spillet-fishing  is  a  poor  form 
of  sport,  but  has  its  reward  at 
meal-times. 

•   After  tea  we  went  over  the 
stables  and  farm-buildings,  and 
2  E2 


748 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
numerous  grooms  and  herds. 
On  our  way  to  the  garden  we 
suddenly  heard  the  father  and 
mother  of  rows  arise  —  men 
shouting  and  screaming,  dogs 
barking,  and  above  all  rose  an 
agonised  wail  from  Mary  of, 
"  Don't  dare  to  touch  him." 
The  garden  had  a  high  wall 
all  round,  and  the  first  two 
doors  we  came  to  were  locked. 
However,  we  managed  to  get 
in  at  the  third  and  found  Mary 
clinging  to  Dash,  surrounded 
by  a  crowd  of  excited  garden 
boys,  whom  John,  the  head 
gardener,  was  endeavouring  to 
pacify.  Our  appearance  was 
the  signal  for  a  fresh  outburst, 
every  one  trying  his  hardest 
to  tell  us  at  the  top  of  his  voice 
what  had  happened,  with  the 
result  that  we  could  make  out 
nothing  except  something  about 
a  dog. 

At  last  they  could  shout  no 
longer,  and  Mary  managed  to 
explain  to  us  how  one  of  the 
stupid  boys  must  have  trodden 
on  poor  Dash,  and,  of  course, 
the  dog  bit  him  in  self-defence. 
A  boy  then  showed  us  a  tear 
in  his  trousers  and  a  slight 
mark  on  his  leg.  Mary  took 
up  her  story  again,  and  said 
that  she  had  offered  to  com- 
pensate the  boy  with  money, 
which  the  horrid  brute  had 
indignantly  refused,  demanding 
poor  Dash's  liver. 

By  now  the  boy  had  re- 
gained his  wind,  and  on  my 
turning  to  him  for  an  explana- 
tion, told  us  how  his  eldest 


brother  had  been  bitten  last 
year  by  one  of  "them  wild 
mountainy  dogs,"  and  of  how 
the  bite  refused  to  heal.  First 
the  doctor  was  called  in,  and 
failed;  then  a  wise  woman, 
who  gave  them  a  "  grand 
charm,"  but  who  charged  more 
than  the  doctor  did,  and  also 
failed ;  and  lastly,  of  how  they 
had  gone  on  a  night  with  a  full 
moon  and  no  frost  to  the 
village  where  the  mountainy 
dog  resided,  decoyed  him  away 
with  a  rabbit,  despatched  him, 
and  finally  removed  the  un- 
fortunate animal's  liver,  which 
was  afterwards  put  on  the  bite, 
which  healed  completely  within 
a  few  days.  And  the  garden- 
boy  was  full  sure  that  his  bite 
would  never  get  well  until  he 
became  possessed  of  Dash's 
liver. 

At  this  point  Mary  again 
called  the  boy  a  horrid  brute, 
and  started  to  make  her  way 
towards  the  house,  holding  Dash 
firmly  by  the  collar.  Once 
more  the  awful  racket  started, 
every  garden -boy,  half  mad 
with  excitement,  calling  loud- 
ly for  the  sacrifice  of  Dash. 
Luckily  Patsey  appeared  at 
this  stage,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
pacified  the  boy  with  a  lock 
of  Dash's  hair  to  place  on  the 
bite  (Patsey  said  it  was  far 
more  efficacious  than  any  liver) 
and  some  money.  But  ever 
afterwards,  during  our  stay 
at  "  Eackrent  Hall,"  Mary  took 
good  care  that  Dash  never  put 
his  nose  inside  the  garden 
again. 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


749 


m. 


For  some  days  after  our 
arrival  at  "  Eackrent  Hall  "  the 
weather  was  glorious,  with  the 
result  that  salmon-fishing  was 
out  of  the  question  ;  in  fact, 
so  low  did  the  Duffmore  river 
become  that  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  any  fish 
to  run  up  it.  In  many  parts 
of  the  river  between  the  pools 
there  could  not  have  been 
more  than  two  or  three  inches 
of  water  at  the  most. 

However,  to  keep  us  amused, 
Eobert  insisted  that  we  should 
go  out  to  sea  in  the  motor-boat 
to  trawl  for  flat-fish  and  to  set 
lobster-pots.  In  spite  of  our 
protestations  that  he  would 
be  sea-sick,  Mary  insisted  on 
bringing  Dash,  being  in  dread 
that  if  she  left  him  behind 
the  evil  garden-boy  would  at- 
tempt the  threatened  operation 
on  the  dog,  in  spite  of  Patsey's 
assurance  that  he  would  mind 
him  safely. 

The  mouth  of  the  bay  lay 
about  five  miles  from  the  house 
pier,  and  for  the  whole  dis- 
tance the  bay  was  the  same 
breadth,  about  half  a  mile ; 
so  steep  were  the  sides  of  the 
bay  that  it  would  only  have 
been  possible  to  land  at  about 
three  places.  At  one  point  we 
passed  a  narrow  valley  at  right 
angles  to  the  bay,  down  which 
ran  a  small  mountain  stream 
through  woods  of  oak  and 
hazel — a  great  place,  Eobert 
told  us,  for  woodcock  in  the 
winter-time. 

The   launch    was   fast,    and 


Mary,  who  was  not  very  fond 
of  the  sea,  asked  Eobert  if 
there  was  any  danger  from 
submerged  rocks,  to  be  told 
by  Eobert  that  he  had  known 
every  rock  in  the  bay  since  he 
could  walk,  and  that  she  need 
have  no  fear  at  all. 

Charles,  who  had  not  spoken 
since  we  left  the  pier,  astounded 
us  by  telling  Eobert  the  story 
of  the  Irish  pilot  who  told  the 
crew  of  a  vessel  he  was  in 
charge  of  that  he  knew  every 
rock  on  the  coast  for  miles. 
"  And  there's  one  of  them," 
he  said,  as  the  vessel  struck  a 
rock. 

For  some  time  Eobert  said 
nothing,  but  gazed  out  to  sea 
with  a  face  like  a  graven  image. 
After  fully  five  minutes,  he 
turned  to  Charles  and  said  : 
"Well  now,  Mr  Charles,  that 
story's  tremendous  auld."  And 
Charles  never  tried  to  palm  off 
any  of  his  chestnuts  on  Eobert 
again. 

Suddenly,  without  any  warn- 
ing, the  bay  ended  in  the  open 
sea,  or  rather  in  another  broad 
bay  dotted  with  small  rocky 
islands,  on  some  of  which  we 
could  see  mountain  sheep  half 
buried  in  the  thick  heather, 
left  there,  Eobert  told  us,  by 
the  people  from  the  mainland 
for  months  at  a  time. 

Eound  one  island  we  sud- 
denly ran  into  a  large  flock  of 
cormorants.  There  must  have 
been  three  or  four  hundred  of 
them,  and  almost  touching 
each  other.  Not  having  time 


750 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


to  rise,  they  dived  as  one  bird, 
as  though  at  a  word  of  com- 
mand, to  appear  again,  min- 
utes afterwards,  scattered  over 
a  large  expanse  of  sea. 

After  standing  out  to  sea 
clear  of  the  islands,  we  turned 
northward  until  we  came  to 
a  sandy  bay  at  the  very  foot 
of  a  mountain — the  line  of 
demarcation  of  sand  and  rock 
was  most  distinct  and  curious. 
Here  Robert  proceeded  to  let 
down  the  trawl,  and  to  take  a 
drag  across  the  bay. 

The  sea  was  calm,  but,  as 
usual  in  the  Atlantic,  there 
was  a  distinct  roll,  which,  com- 
bined with  the  sun  and  absence 
of  wind,  soon  had  the  expected 
effect  on  Dash,  and  Mary  in- 
sisted that  she  must  at  once 
be  landed  with  the  dog ;  and 
on  Robert  telling  her  that  if 
she  landed  there  she  would 
have  to  cross  a  range  of  moun- 
tains and  then  swim  the  bay, 
or  else  walk  about  twenty 
miles  round  it  before  she  could 
reach  home,  she  insisted  that 
we  must  take  up  the  trawl 
and  go  home.  However,  by 
the  time  the  argument  was 
finished,  Dash  was  able  to  sit 
up  and  take  nourishment,  and 
in  the  end  we  were  allowed  to 
carry  on. 

On  our  way  back  we  stood 
farther  out  to  sea,  passing 
under  the  lee  of  a  large  island, 
which  Robert  told  us  was  in- 
habited by  a  dozen  families, 
all  of  whom  were  descended 
from  two  men  who  had  origin- 
ally settled  on  the  island  and 
ruined  each  other  by  a  lawsuit. 
In  fact,  it  was  a  famous  case 


in  the  West,  and  was  often 
referred  to  by  parish  priests 
as  a  warning,  when  endeavour- 
ing to  restrain  their  parish- 
ioners from  having  the  law 
on  each  other  over  some  trivial 
dispute. 

According  to  Robert,  these 
two  men  left  the  mainland 
over  a  hundred  years  ago,  and 
settled  on  the  island  with  a 
handful  of  sheep,  and  in  time 
built  up  a  flock  of  a  hundred 
and  one. 

As  long  as  they  remained 
single  all  went  well,  but  a 
trip  to  the  mainland  one  Christ- 
mas time  resulted  in  both 
returning  with  a  wife,  and 
then  the  trouble  started. 
"  Trust  the  women  to  see  to 
that,  saving  yer  presence,  miss," 
remarked  Robert,  turning  to 
Mary. 

It  was  now  decided  to  divide 
the  flock,  fifty  sheep  to  each 
proprietor,  but  the  hundred 
and  first  sheep — that  was  the 
problem.  Neither  would  give 
way,  and  a  long  and  angry 
dispute  followed,  the  sheep 
remaining  the  common  pro- 
perty of  both. 

Even  then  all  might  have 
been  well  but  for  one  of  the 
women,  who,  though  the  shear- 
ing season  was  long  passed, 
wanted  some  wool  to  make  a 
pair  of  stockings,  and  insisted 
on  her  husband  shearing  his 
half  of  the  unfortunate  hundred 
and  first  sheep. 

Some  days  afterwards  the 
sheep  was  found  dead  in  a 
ditch.  One  owner  ascribed 
the  accident  to  the  cold  feel- 
ings of  the  animal  having 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


751 


urged  him  to  seek  shelter  in 
the  fatal  ditch,  while  the 
other  contended  that  the  wool 
remaining  upon  one  side  had 
caused  the  sheep  to  lose  its 
balance  and  so  to  find  its  grave 
in  the  ditch.  The  inevitable 
lawsuit  followed,  and  in  the 
end  the  hundred  sheep  had  to 
be  sold  to  pay  the  lawyers, 
and  both  men  were  reduced 
to  a  state  of  utter  beggary. 

On  our  way  home  we  set 
lobster-pots  in  the  passages 
between  the  small  rocky  is- 
lands at  the  mouth  of  the  bay, 
and  got  back  in  time  for  tea 
with  a  fine  catch  of  sole  and 
plaice. 

At  last  the  glass  began  to 
fall  rapidly  ;  then  the  storm 
burst,  and  for  two  days  and 
nights  the  rain  fell  in  a  solid 
sheet.  During  this  time  you 
could  not  see  more  than  a  few 
yards  from  the  house  for  the 
thick  mist  of  rain. 

On  the  third  day  we  came 
down  to  breakfast  to  find  the 
sun  shining  again,  and  to  see 
the  great  waves  of  mist  rolling 
away  off  the  mountains,  leav- 
ing their  slopes  and  spurs 
exactly  as  though  they  had 
been  washed  clean  of  all  ugly 
colours,  while  the  tiny  moun- 
tain streams  had  become  foam- 
ing torrents. 

We  found  Eobert  waiting 
for  us  in  the  hall  with  the 
good  news  that  the  Duffmore 
river  was  in  great  flood,  too 
high  to  fish  for  some  hours 
yet,  but  that  it  ought  to  have 
run  down  to  fishing  level  by 
lunch-time  ;  and  further,  that 
the  river  watchers  had  re- 


ported a  great  run  of  spring 
fish. 

After  breakfast  Charles  and 
I  drove  off  with  Eobert  to 
wait  at  the  river-side  until 
we  could  start  fishing.  When 
near  the  river  we  were  joined 
by  an  understudy  of  Bobert's, 
Jack  O'Mara.  We  then  drove 
up  the  river  valley  to  a  point 
where  the  river  and  road  ran 
parallel  for  some  distance,  and 
waited  there.  When  we  arrived 
the  river  was  well  over  its 
banks,  a  mad  brown  torrent, 
carrying  branches  of  trees, 
leaves,  and  even  a  dead  moun- 
tain sheep,  at  a  great  rate 
towards  the  bay. 

We  had  lunch  early,  and 
even  while  we  watched  the 
river  grew  quieter  and  gradu- 
ally shrank  within  its  usual 
banks,  while  the  colour  cleared 
rapidly. 

Charles,  who  was  to  fish 
the  upper  pools  with  Jack 
O'Mara  while  I  fished  down 
towards  the  bay,  insisted  on 
starting  now  at  the  pool  where 
we  were,  and  Eobert  and  I 
lit  our  pipes  and  watched  him. 

If  Porgeen  was  an  unusual- 
looking  individual,  Jack  O'Mara 
was  his  match,  though  not  in 
shape.  Jack  could  not  have 
been  more  than  five  feet  two 
inches  in  height,  but  had  the 
greatest  pair  of  shoulders  and 
arms  I  have  ever  seen  on 
any  man ;  and  so  large  was 
his  body  in  proportion  to  the 
rest  of  him,  that  he  appeared 
to  have  five  feet  of  body  and 
two  inches  of  legs ;  but,  of 
course,  that  is  an  exaggeration 
— in  fact,  he  resembled  a  gor- 


752                    A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle.  [Dec. 

ilia,    and    Charles    often    used  Charles's   next   cast   was   so 

to    say    afterwards   that   Jack  near    the     cow    that    Eobert 

had   two    rows    of   teeth  —  he  gasped.      It    missed,    and    we 

swore  he  could  see  them  when  waited  intently  for  his   next, 

the  man  laughed.  to  be  again  disappointed.     The 

When  I  first  saw  Jack  he  following  cast,  however,  Charles 

had  on  an  old  green  cardigan  let  the  top  of  his  rod  back  just 

waistcoat,   sizes  too  small  for  a  little  farther,  the  line  refused 

him,  and  a  pair  of  old  Harris  to     come    forward,     the     reel 

knickerbockers,  with  boxcloth  started  to  scream,  and  Eobert, 

continuations,  which  had  once  jumping   up,    excitedly    yelled 

belonged  to  the  master ;    and  out,   "  Sure  yer  stuck  fast  in 

as    the    master   was    six    feet  Mrs  Hughes 's  auld  cow."    And 

three  and  Jack  five  feet  two,  sure  enough  Charles's  fly  was 

the    continuations    just    but-  stuck  fast  in  the  tail  of  the 

toned    nicely    over    the    tops  cow. 

of  his  boots  like  a  pair  of  leg-  Now  a  3/0  salmon-fly  driven 

gings  would,  giving  the  weird  well  home  over  the  barb  by  a 

impression  of  a  pair  of  feet  at  powerful  sixteen-foot  split-cane 

the  end  of  two  thighs  ;    and  rod  can  be  exceedingly  pain- 

for    headgear    he    sported    an  ful.      Anyway    the    old    cow 

ancient  greeny-black  wideawake  seemed  to  think  so,  and  started 

hat,  which  had  long  ago  cov-  to    take    the    country    out   of 

ered  his  reverence.  face. 

Charles,  in  his  well-fitting  Charles,  who  was  not  fond 
clothes,  presented  a  strange  of  spending  money  on  fishing- 
contrast  to  Jack  standing  a  tackle,  and  hated  more  than 
few  yards  from  him,  armed  with  anything  to  lose  a  good  fly, 
an  enormous  landing-net  in  gave  chase  as  best  he  could, 
one  hand  and  a  gaff  in  the  followed  by  Jack  at  a  swift 
other — his  badges  of  rank.  For  amble  with  the  landing-net 
some  time  I  idly  watched  and  gaff.  And  a  great  sight 
Charles  getting  out  line,  ex-  they  made, 
pecting  every  cast  to  see  him  First,  the  auld  cow,  bellow- 
stick  in  a  spring  fish  in  the  ing  with  pain  and  rage  and 
now  perfect  -  looking  fishing  carrying  her  tail  high  over 
water,  when  I  was  startled  her  back ;  then  Charles  with 
by  Eobert  saying  in  a  low  an  agonised  expression,  keep- 
voice,  "  The  next  cast  and  he's  ing  the  point  of  the  rod  well 
in  her."  Of  course  I  thought  up,  and  falling  every  ten  yards  ; 
Eobert  meant  a  spring  fish  by  and  lastly,  Jack  cantering  along 
her,  but  on  looking  at  him  I  in  his  old  pantaloons,  and 
saw  that  his  eyes  were  directed  waving  the  net  and  gaff  over 
not  at  the  pool,  but  behind  his  head. 

Charles,  at  a  small  black  moun-  The    cow    made    a    bee-line 

tain    cow    standing   peacefully  for  home,   a   cottage  about   a 

chewing  the  cud.  quarter    of    a    mile    from    the 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


753 


river,  but  being  in  too  great 
a  hurry,  got  badly  bogged 
half-way  in  an  old  drain,  and 
then  started  to  roar  in  earnest. 
Charles  now  carefully  reeled 
up  his  line  with  a  view  to 
catching  the  cow's  tail  and 
extricating  his  fly,  but  was 
frustrated  by  the  violent  efforts 
of  Jack  to  gaff  the  unfortunate 
animal  by  the  tail,  and  the 
determined  way  in  which  the 
cow  insisted  in  carrying  it 
high  over  her  back  and  well 
out  of  reach  of  hand  or 
gaff. 

At  this  point  old  Mrs  Hughes, 
the  owner,  appeared  on  the 
scene,  and  naturally  thinking 
that  Charles  and  Jack  were 
trying  to  kill  her  precious  cow, 
started  to  curse  and  abuse 
the  two  at  the  top  of  her 
voice.  As  Jack  put  it  after- 
wards, "  Such  abuse  as  she 
gave  Master  Charles  hasn't  been 
heard  in  the  barony  for  many 
a  long  year." 

Charles  did  his  best  to  find 
out  from  Jack  what  the  woman 
wanted;  but  all  Jack  would 
mutter  was,  "  The  Lord  save 
us,  and  she  be  so  small  and  to 
have  so  long  a  tongue  on  her." 
In  the  end  the  fly  was  retrieved, 
but  it  cost  Charles  more  to 
stop  Mrs  Hughes's  "  long 
tongue "  than  the  price  of 
the  fly  by  a  long  way. 

As  soon  as  Charles  regained 
his  wind  and  dignity  he  started 
to  fish  again,  this  time  taking 
a  careful  look  behind  him 
each  cast  to  see  that  there 
was  no  obstruction.  Eobert 
and  I  sat  down  again  to  watch 
and  to  recover  from  the  ex- 


haustion of  violent  laughing. 
Even  Jack  wanted  a  rest. 

Charles  started  to  fish  care- 
fully from  the  top  of  the 
pool,  where  the  water  was 
obviously  too  strong  to  hold 
fish  yet;  but  about  a  quarter 
of  the  way  down  the  pool 
there  was  a  boil  on  the  smooth 
surface  of  the  black-looking 
water,  most  likely  caused  by 
a  large  rock,  and  a  certain- 
looking  spot  for  a  spring  fish. 

Gradually  Charles's  fly  ap- 
proached this  spot,  and  I  could 
see  the  sudden  double  tug  a 
spring  fish  often  gives  before 
the  strike,  a  pause  of  a  fraction 
of  a  second,  the  screech  of 
the  reel  while  the  line  cut 
diagonally  across  the  pool  with 
a  wicked  hiss  ;  and  then  twenty 
pounds  of  silver  and  opal  flung 
itself  fully  three  feet  clean  out 
of  the  water,  to  hit  the  surface 
with  a  loud  smack  and  dis- 
appear into  the  depths  of  the 
pool.  The  fish  now  became 
quieter — the  mighty  leap  had 
winded  him, — and  Charles  set- 
tled down  to  kill  him  in  good 
style. 

Again  the  fish  went  mad, 
heading  at  full  speed  for  the 
sea,  and  when  we  guessed  it 
must  have  reached  the  tail  of 
the  pool,  to  our  utter  astonish- 
ment it  gave  another  mighty 
leap  fully  thirty  yards  above 
where  Charles  was  standing. 

At  this  point  Eobert  nudged 
me,  saying  in  a  hoarse  whisper, 
"Look  at  himself."  For  a 
second  I  could  see  nothing ; 
then  some  whitish  object  mov- 
ing fast  through  the  heather 
about  forty  yards  behind 


754 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


Charles  caught  my  eye,  to 
emerge  in  the  open  a  mountainy 
ram  with  lowered  head,  charg- 
ing full  tilt  at  Charles. 

A  runaway  cow  is  one  thing, 
but  a  charging  ram  with  horns 
as  big  as  himself  quite  another. 
As  I  yelled  out  a  warning 
to  Charles,  up  jumped  Jack, 
and  using  the  handle  of  his 
net  as  a  pike,  charged  straight 
at  the  onrushing  ram  ;  and  so 
powerful  was  Jack  that  he 
actually  stopped  the  animal, 
but  being  unable  to  hold  him, 
was  gradually  driven  back  yard 
by  yard  towards  the  edge  of 
the  river. 

So  intent  was  Charles  with 
his  fish  that  he  was  quite 
oblivious  of  the  desperate 
struggle  going  on  at  his  back, 
and  only  missed  joining  his 
fish  by  inches  when  the  furious 
ram  drove  Jack  head  over  heels 
into  the  pool  below.  Having 
settled  Jack,  the  ram  now 
turned  his  attention  to  Charles, 
who  for  some  minutes  managed 
to  skilfully  play  his  fish  and 
dodge  the  ram,  and  yet  find 
time  to  yell  for  help. 

In  the  meantime  Eobert  had 
gaffed  Jack  by  a  pantaloon  and 
dragged  him  ashore,  and  the 
two  at  once  gave  chase  after 
the  ram.  Quickly  and  skil- 
fully Jack  succeeded  in  en- 
tangling him  in  the  large  net, 
when  Kobert  soon  put  him 
out  of  action  by  tying  his  legs 
together  with  a  piece  of  rope. 
Hardly  was  this  over  when 
loud  shouts  were  heard  from 
Charles.  We  found  him  at 
the  tail  of  the  pool  with  his 
fish  dead-beat  on  the  surface 


in  a  back-water,  and  Eobert 
quickly  slipped  the  net  under 
it  to  lay  a  beautifully  made 
fresh-run  twenty-pounder  on 
the  bank.  Leaving  Charles 
and  Jack,  we  now  made  our 
way  down  the  river  to  our 
first  pool. 

The  day  was  by  now  perfect. 
So  wonderful  was  the  scenery 
that  one's  mind  continually 
wandered  from  the  fishing  to 
the  beauty  of  the  surrounding 
mountains  with  their  wonderful 
shades  of  yellow,  green,  orange, 
and  purple,  all  perfectly  blend- 
ed, and  yet  changed  from 
minute  to  minute  with  the 
passing  of  fleecy  clouds  across 
the  blue  sky. 

The  first  pool  we  came  to 
was  a  deep  natural  basin, 
formed  by  a  sudden  turn  of 
the  river,  where  the  banks  on 
either  side,  nearly  perpendicu- 
lar, rose  to  a  considerable 
height,  and  to  the  water's  edge 
were  thickly  covered  with  hol- 
lies and  high  heather.  At  the 
top  of  the  pool  a  great  rock, 
crowned  with  yellow  gorse, 
forced  the  river  into  a  narrow 
channel  for  a  space  of  several 
yards,  to  form  a  deep  and 
black  -  looking  pool  below  ; 
while  the  winter  flood  had 
scoured  out  the  river-bed  on 
one  side  at  the  tail  to  a  depth 
of  fully  ten  feet,  and  piled  up 
a  long  gravel  bed  on  the  oppo- 
site side. 

Before  I  started  to  fish, 
Eobert  showed  me  his  own 
collection  of  flies,  tied  by  him- 
self, and  assured  me  that  I 
would  kill  three  fish  with  them 
to  every  fish  I  would  kill  with 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


755 


my  own  —  Jock  Scots,  Lea 
Blues,  and  Grey  Monkeys 
chiefly.  He  pointed  out  that 
my  flies,  which  I  had  used 
successfully  in  Scotland  and 
the  South  of  Ireland,  were 
suitable  for  certain  rivers  where 
there  were  no  surrounding 
mountains  and  the  water  was 
not  stained  brown  from  always 
running  through  boggy  land 
— turf-stain,  he  called  it ;  but 
that  his  flies,  all  of  which 
had  plain  mallard  wings,  gold 
tinsel,  rough  greeny-brown  mo- 
hair bodies,  and  golden  olive 
or  claret  hackles,  blended  with 
the  subdued  light  and  turf- 
stained  water. 

To  please  Eobert  I  put  up 
a  Jock  Scot  at  the  tail  and  one 
of  his  flies  as  a  dropper,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  day's  fishing 
had  verified  his  prophecy,  kill- 
ing only  one  fish  on  the  Jock 
and  four  on  Eobert's  flies. 

Charles's  first  fish  was  easily 
the  biggest  we  got  that  day. 
He  killed  three  and  I  got  five, 
and  the  lot,  including  the 
twenty-pounder,  averaged  thir- 
teen and  a  half  pounds — all 
fresh-run  fish,  and  most  of 
them  with  sea-lice  on.  I  also 
killed  two  sea-trout  at  the 
lowest  pool,  of  three  and  three 
and  a  half  pounds  weight. 

Charles  had  a  great  story 
when  we  met  in  the  evening 
of  losing  a  whale  in  the  same 
pool  that  he  killed  the  twenty- 
pounder,  and  appealed  to  Jack 
for  confirmation,  who,  with 
the  western  peasant's  love  of 
trying  to  please  people,  assured 
us  that  the  fish  was  surely  as 
big  as  the  mountainy  ram,  and 


must  have  weighed  at  least 
four  pounds.  Charles,  thinking 
that  Jack  was  trying  to  make 
a  fool  of  him,  was  furious 
when  I  started  to  laugh,  and 
turned  on  the  unfortunate  Jack; 
but  Eobert  saved  the  situation 
by  quickly  telling  us  that 
Jack  meant  no  harm, — that 
he  was  simple  and  like  a  crow, 
could  only  count  up  to  four, 
so  four  pounds  was  his  way 
of  saying  that  it  was  the  biggest 
fish  he  had  ever  seen. 

The  eight  spring  fish  made 
a  great  show  lying  in  a  row 
in  the  heather,  the  lovely 
shades  of  opal  and  pink  still 
on  their  sides,  and  we  made 
our  way  to  the  waiting  car, 
proud  if  very  tired  fishermen. 

At  dinner-time  there  was  no 
sign  of  Porgeen,  and  on  Charles 
remarking  on  his  absence,  Pat- 
sey  told  us,  with  a  private 
wink  at  me,  that  the  poor 
creature  had  taken  a  small 
pain,  and  was  after  going  to 
bed  for  a  while. 

Mary  at  once  wanted  to 
send  for  a  doctor,  but  Patsey 
assured  her  that  the  old  man 
often  took  a  small  pain,  but 
that  there  would  be  nothing 
on  him  in  the  morning.  And 
true  for  Patsey,  old  Porgeen 
took  many  a  small  pain  during 
our  stay  at  "  Eackrent  Hall," 
and  before  long  the  suspicion 
that  the  little  pain  was  caused 
by  a  big  dose  of  poteen  re- 
ceived ample  confirmation. 

After  dinner  Mary  Informed 
us  that  she  had  a  surprise  for 
us,  but  before  she  could  spring 
it  Charles  lit  his  candle  and 
made  for  the  door,  saying  that 


756 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


he  was  too  tired  for  any  more 
surprises  that  day,  and  left 
me  to  deal  with  it. 

It  appeared  that  among  the 
many  forms  of  sport  to  be  had 
at  this  wonderful  place,  rat- 
hunting  took  a  high  place, 
with  Patsey  as  the  master  rat- 
hunter;  and  that  the  kitchen 
was  his  chief  scene  of  opera- 
tions, which  was  fitted  up  to 
serve  as  a  rat-pit  on  occasions. 

At  one  time  a  thoughtful 
house-carpenter  found  that  he 
was  spending  a  large  part  of 
his  time  repairing  the  holes 
made  nightly  by  the  rats  in 
the  various  kitchen,  scullery, 
and  servants'  hall  doors.  To 
put  an  end  to  this  monotonous 
work  he  hit  on  the  ingenious 
idea  of  making  little  trap- 
doors over  these  various  holes, 
lined  them  with  tin  and 
weighted  them  with  lead,  and 
connected  all  by  a  clever  sys- 
tem of  cords  and  pulleys  to  one 
main  cord,  which  led  into  the 
haU. 

Then,  when  it  was  decided 
to  use  the  kitchen  as  a  rat- 
pit,  all  that  was  required  was 
to  carefully  test  and  set  these 
trap-doors,  well  ground-bait  the 
kitchen  floor  with  the  interior 
economies  of  rabbits,  and  all 
was  ready.  The  maids  would 
receive  instructions  to  retire 
to  bed  at  an  early  hour,  and 
at  or  about  midnight  the  main 
cord  would  be  released,  down 
would  fall  the  trap-doors  with 
a  bang,  and  all  that  remained 
was  to  kill  the  rats. 

Wet  weather  was  usually 
the  best  time  for  this  perform- 
ance, the  rats  then  making 


for  the  shelter  and  warmth  of 
the  house  ;  and  after  the  heavy 
rain  of  the  last  few  days 
Patsey  had  insisted  on  a  rat- 
hunt  being  held  without  delay. 
Dash  was  to  be  the  chief  per- 
former, according  to  Mary's 
idea,  assisted  by  two  terriers 
which  Patsey  had  brought  down 
from  his  cottage. 

Soon  after  midnight  Patsey 
came  to  the  smoking-room  to 
wake  me  up,  and  to  say  that 
all  was  ready.  He  then  armed 
each  of  us  with  a  lamp  and 
a  stick,  and  we  made  our  way 
to  the  kitchen  with  the  dogs, 
and  quickly  closed  the  door 
behind  us. 

The  kitchen  was  a  large 
room,  but  when  we  got  inside 
there  literally  did  not  seem  to 
be  a  square  inch  of  the  floor 
which  was  not  covered  with 
rats.  The  whole  place  looked 
to  be  seething  with  them,  and 
at  first  the  dogs  could  only 
stand  stock  -  still  and  yell, 
bothered  to  know  which  rat 
to  take  first.  And  at  the 
sight  of  the  struggling,  squirm- 
ing, and  squeaking  rats  bolting 
in  every  direction  in  search  of 
cover,  Mary  started  to  scream, 
and  made  frantic  efforts  to 
open  the  door  and  escape ; 
on  being  frustrated  by  Patsey 
she  jumped  on  to  the  kitchen 
table  and  stayed  there  until  we 
had  finished. 

But  in  less  than  a  minute 
from  the  time  of  our  entry 
there  was  not  a  rat  to  be  seen 
anywhere,  and  the  kitchen  was 
again  as  silent  as  the  grave — 
the  whole  scene  was  like  a  very 
bad  nightmare. 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


757 


Patsey  now  produced  two 
fine  old  Court  swords,  and 
giving  me  one,  bade  me  to 
use  it  at  one  end  behind  a 
large  old  dresser  which  stood 
near  the  great  fireplace,  while 
he  prodded  at  the  other  end 
with  his  sword.  At  the  first 
prod  the  rats  started  to  bubble 
out  in  an  endless  stream,  and 
the  terriers  got  to  work  in 
great  style,  while  Dash,  who 
was  quite  useless  as  a  ratter, 
made  it  his  business  to  break 
every  bone  in  the  rats'  bodies 
after  the  terriers  had  done  the 
dirty  work,  at  the  same  time 
keeping  up  a  maddening  bark- 
ing. 

Every  piece  of  heavy  furni- 
ture which  gave  any  cover 
yielded  the  same  steady  flow 
of  rats — young,  middle-aged, 
and  old  rats,  brown  rats,  yellow 
rats,  and  grey  rats.  Even  the 
plate-rack  in  the  scullery — full 
of  plates — was  stiff  with  the 
brutes  squashed  in  between 
the  plates,  and  as  still  as  the 
plates  themselves,  hoping  to 
escape  by  silence. 

Here  the  swords  were  most 
useful,  picking  the  rats  out 
from  between  the  plates,  with- 
out breaking  a  single  plate,  like 
picking  winkles  out  of  their 
shells  with  a  hair-pin. 


Even  dish-covers  and  the 
like,  hung  on  nails  in  the  walls, 
when  lifted  off  were  found  to 
hold  rats.  And  when  I  thought 
all  was  over,  the  wily  Patsey 
produced  yet  more  rats  from 
the  inside  of  roller-towels  on 
the  doors,  flour-bins,  potato- 
boxes,  and  out  of  a  pair  of  the 
cook's  boots  on  a  chair. 

By  the  time  we  had  finished 
the  kitchen  and  scullery,  all 
the  terriers  could  do  was  to 
hurl  themselves  flat  on  the 
floor,  their  tongues  hanging 
out  to  the  roots,  and  their 
breath  coming  in  short  dry 
gasps  ;  and  indeed  Patsey  and 
I  were  not  in  a  much  better 
plight,  while  Dash  was  as 
fresh  as  paint  and  barking  for 
more. 

As  soon  as  we  had  recovered 
we  made  a  move  for  the  ser- 
vants' hall,  only  to  find  that 
one  of  the  trap-doors  there 
leading  outside  had  stuck,  with 
the  inevitable  result  that  the 
rat-hunt  was  over  for  that 
night,  and  I  was  not  sorry. 

After  a  whisky-and-soda  with 
Patsey  I  crawled  up  to  bed,  to 
dream  that  I  was  trying  to 
net  a  mountainy  ram  in  a 
plate-rack,  and  of  a  vain  at- 
tempt to  gaff  Charles's  whale 
with  a  Court  sword. 


IV. 


For  some  days  after  the 
famous  rat-hunt  we  had  great 
spring  fishing  with  never  a 
blank  day,  and  Charles  escaped 
the  attentions  of  the  native 
live  stock.  And  after  the  great 


deluge  of  rain  the  weather  was 
perfect  —  soft  westerly  winds 
with  a  real  feeling  of  spring 
in  them,  and  not  too  much 
sunshine  to  spoil  fishing.  But 
gradually  the  river  fell,  and 


758 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


day  by  day  we  met  less  fish, 
until  at  last  Eobert  advised 
us  to  put  up  our  rods  and  wait 
for  the  next  flood. 

Mary  was  by  now  deeply 
interested  in  the  gardens — the 
evil  garden-boy  had  been  ban- 
ished to  his  mountain  home, — 
and  Charles  and  I  found  time 
begin  to  hang  a  little  heavily 
on  our  hands. 

The  westerly  winds  brought 
a  certain  amount  of  sea  in 
from  the  Atlantic  and  made 
trawling  in  the  motor-boat  out 
of  the  question  for  the  present ; 
and  for  some  unknown  reason 
our  Ford  had  not  arrived  from 
Dublin. 

Porgeen,  at  work  or  at  play, 
drunk  or  sober,  was  a  never- 
ceasing  source  of  wonder  and 
amusement  to  us,  but  more 
wonderful  still  were  the  stories 
Patsey  used  to  tell  us  of  the 
old  ruffian's  career. 

Porgeen  was  an  old  man 
when  we  came  to  "  Eackrent 
Hall,"  and  though  I  never  saw 
him  work  as  hard  as  an  ass  is 
supposed  to  work,  yet  in  our 
time  alone  he  must  have  con- 
sumed enough  drink  to  drown 
several.  All  came  alike  to  him 
— whisky,  stout,  or  poteen.  And 
though  he  might  have  partaken 
of  all  three  overnight,  the  drink 
never  knocked  a  feather  out 
of  him,  and  he  would  come  up 
smiling  the  next  morning  at 
breakfast.  I  never  saw  him 
eat,  but  the  cook  used  to  tell 
Mary,  "  Sure  ye  could  not  get 
the  potatoes  on  to  his  plate 
fast  enough." 

For  many  years  the  mistress 
kept  a  herd  of  shorthorns,  and 


at  one  time  had  a  very  danger- 
ous bull,  called  Don  Juan, 
which  was  continually  breaking 
out  of  his  box  and  frightening 
the  wits  out  of  every  one  in 
the  place.  So  wicked  and  dan- 
gerous did  the  bull  become  at 
last,  that  the  master  swore  he 
would  surely  shoot  him  the 
very  next  time  he  broke  out 
of  his  box. 

There  came  a  day  when  the 
mistress  was  above  in  Dublin 
and  the  master  away  at  a  shoot- 
ing-party, the  bull  broke  out  of 
his  box  and  went  tearing  mad 
through  the  place.  James,  the 
herd,  tried  every  device  he 
could  think  of  to  coax  the 
brute  back  into  his  box,  but 
all  in  vain,  not  one  yard  would 
he  go  ;  and  any  moment  the 
master  might  drive  into  the 
yard.  Then  he  would  surely 
shoot  Don  Juan,  and  when  the 
mistress  returned  from  Dublin 
she  would  surely  murder  James. 

Black  night  came,  and  still 
the  bull  roared  and  roamed 
through  the  place,  and  James 
gave  it  up  in  despair.  At  this 
point  Porgeen,  who  was  a 
notorious  coward  and  terrified 
of  the  bull,  put  his  head  out 
of  the  pantry  window  and  in 
a  loud  voice  like  the  master's 
shouted  into  the  yard,  "James." 

Poor  James,  thinking  that 
his  worst  fears  were  realised 
and  that  the  master  had  re- 
turned home,  rushed  to  the 
pantry  window  only  to  find 
Porgeen's  long  nose  stuck  out 
over  the  top.  "  Look  it  here, 
James,"  said  Porgeen,  "do  ye 
knowphatye'lldo?"  "Phat?" 
queried  James.  "  Sure,  niy 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


759 


God,"  shouted  Porgeen,  "would 
yerself  walk  into  a  dark  room 
at  night?  Put  a  light  in  the 
baste's  box,  and  I'll  engage 
he'll  walk  in  quiet  and  aisy 
like,  the  crayture." 

James  had  a  supreme  con- 
tempt for  the  likes  of  Porgeen, 
but  he  was  desperate  by  now, 
and  so  proceeded  to  hang  a 
lighted  lamp  in  the  bull's  box. 
And,  sure  enough,  as  Porgeen 
had  said,  within  ten  minutes 
the  crayture  walked  in  quiet 
and  aisy  like,  as  though  the 
only  thing  in  the  world  he  had 
been  waiting  for  was  the  light. 

Now  James,  far  from  being 
thankful  to  Porgeen  for  his 
useful  advice,  was  mad  to  think 
that  a  dirty  little  leprechaun 
like  Porgeen  should  be  able  to 
teach  him  anything  about  bulls ; 
and,  moreover,  he  knew  full 
well  that  if  he  did  not  turn  the 
tables  on  the  old  footman,  and 
that  very  quickly,  for  the  rest 
of  his  days  he  would  never 
hear  the  end  of  Don  Juan  and 
the  light.  He  could  hear  the 
housemaids  and  kitchen-maids 
asking  him  softly,  "  And  how's 
the  bull  to-day,  Mr  James  ?  " 
and,  "  Would  he  like  a  loan  of 
one  of  the  mistress's  nightlights 
for  the  bull's  box  this  evening?  " 
James  lit  his  pipe  and  thought 
his  hardest  for  a  time,  and  then 
prepared  for  action. 

They  had  at  the  time  a 
shorthorn  heifer,  as  Patsey 
graphically  described  her  to 
us,  "  The  dead  spit  of  himself," 
meaning  by  himself  Don  Juan. 
The  next  evening  at  dusk, 
after  changing  the  heifer  into 
Don  Juan's  box,  James  after 


a  lot  of  trouble  managed  to 
coax  Porgeen  out  of  the  house 
to  see  how  fine  and  aisy  the 
bull  was  in  his  box  with  a 
light,  and  insinuating  that  it 
was  all  due  to  Porgeen's  clever- 
ness. In  the  meantime  one  of 
James's  numerous  understudies 
had  hidden  himself  in  the  box, 
leaving  the  door  closed  but  not 
bolted. 

Slowly  but  surely  James 
manoeuvred  the  old  footman 
round  to  the  bull's  box,  all 
the  time  coaxing  and  flattering 
him  until  he  felt  as  brave  as 
a  lion  and  fit  for  any  bull. 
At  last  they  reached  the  box, 
and  when  Porgeen  leant  over 
the  half-door  as  he  thought 
to  have  a  good  look  at  Don 
Juan,  the  lad  hidden  in  the 
box  hit  the  heifer  a  terrific 
belt  across  the  quarters  with 
an  ash-plant ;  the  heifer  let  out 
a  great  roar,  and  half  mad  with 
the  sudden  pain  and  fright, 
charged  straight  for  and  through 
the  unfastened  half-door.  James 
let  a  screech  out  of  him  fit 
to  wake  the  dead,  and  yelled, 
"  My  God,  the  bull's  out  agin," 
and  Porgeen  turned  to  sprint 
for  dear  life  and  the  pantry. 

James  and  his  understudies 
(who,  of  course,  shared  James's 
disgrace)  had  thought  out  the 
assault  carefully  beforehand. 
They  had  argued,  and  rightly, 
that  Porgeen  would  be  sure  to 
take  the  nearest  way  to  the 
pantry,  which  lay  through  the 
big  cow-house,  down  the  middle 
of  which  ran  a  long  passage. 
And  as  the  heifer  generally 
lived  in  this  big  cow-house,  she 
would  be  certain  to  follow  close 


760 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


on  Porgeen's  heels,  and  even 
with  great  good  luck  might 
catch  him  up ;  but  he  had 
been  a  noted  runner  in  his 
youth,  and  it  would  likely  be 
a  very  close  thing. 

Though  Porgeen  had  run 
some  fine  races  in  his  time,  he 
ran  the  race  of  his  life  that 
night,  and  the  chances  are  he 
would  have  reached  sanctuary 
in  the  pantry  well  before  the 
heifer  could  have  caught  up 
with  him  had  the  cow-house 
passage  been  clear ;  but  this 
was  where  James's  revenge 
came  in. 

As  Porgeen,  knowing  every 
inch  of  the  ground,  dashed 
headlong  in  the  dark  into  the 
passage,  he  tripped  over  a  pig- 
trough  full  of  swill ;  his  eyes 
and  mouth  full  of  the  swill, 
he  gathered  himself  together, 
only  to  fall  over  a  sharp-edged 
bucket  full  of  boiling  water ; 
up  once  more  and  on,  he  fell 
flat  on  his  face  from  a  rope 
stretched  knee-high  across  the 
passage.  At  last  the  unfortu- 
nate man  arrived  at  the  pantry, 
feeling  as  though  every  bone 
in  his  body  was  broken,  scalded 
by  the  boiling  water,  and  his 
face  and  clothes  a  [mass  of 
swill,  and  dashed  into  the  grin- 
ning Patsey's  arms  screaming, 
"  The  bull,  the  bull !  " 

Patsey  told  us  that  for  a  full 
month  afterwards  Porgeen  re- 
fused to  set  a  foot  outside  the 
door,  and  that  nothing  short 
of  setting  fire  to  the  house 
would  have  moved  him.  And 
ever  afterwards  when  James 
used  to  put  his  head  in  at  the 
pantry  window  and  invite  the 


old  footman  to  come  out  and 
have  a  look  at  the  bull,  Por- 
geen would  grin  with  rage  and 
answer,  "  Ah,  run  away  and 
play  now,  James ;  sure  I  have 
the  tay  things  to  wash,  and 
what's  more,  herself  (the  mis- 
tress) would  be  vexed  if  I  were 
to  go  out  now." 

For  many  years  priests  and 
pledges  completely  failed  to 
prevent  Porgeen  from  smug- 
gling drink  into  the  house  and 
consuming  it  at  his  leisure. 
It  used  to  be  part  of  Patsey's 
many  queer  duties  to  try  and 
keep  out  Porgeen's  drink,  but 
the  old  man  was  always  one 
too  many  for  Patsey.  Finding 
that  he  could  not  stop  Porgeen 
getting  drink  into  the  house, 
Patsey  directed  all  his  energies 
to  seizing  (and  most  probably 
consuming  himself)  the  drink 
in  the  house,  and  the  two  were 
always  engaged  in  a  battle  of 
wits. 

For  a  long  time  the  old  grand- 
father clock  in  the  big  hall 
stood.  Porgeen  in  good  stead  to 
hide  his  black  bottles  in,  and 
completely  defeated  the  butler. 
But  at  last  suspicion  was  di- 
rected to  the  clock  through 
Porgeen  being  repeatedly  found 
gazing  intently  at  it,  there 
being  another  clock  in  the 
pantry,  and  also  it  was  common 
knowledge  that  he  could  not 
read  the  time.  Inside  the  clock 
Patsey  found  a  large  black 
bottle,  and  Porgeen  had  to  try 
another  hiding-place. 

Next  his  fox-like  brain  hit 
on  the  bolster  of  the  bed  in 
the  master's  dressing  -  room, 
knowing  well  how  an  Irish 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


761 


housemaid  made  a  bed,  or 
rather  didn't  make  it ;  and 
this  hiding-place  lasted  him 
until  one  unlucky  day  the  cork 
came  out  of  the  bottle,  and 
the  master  on  going  to  dress 
for  dinner  found  his  room 
reeking  of  poteen. 

On  these  occasions  Porgeen 
was  always  given  notice,  but 
invariably  replied,  "  Don't  be 
onaisy,  me  lady,  sure  I'll  never 
leave  ye  " — and  he  never  did. 

After  we  had  been  at  "  Back- 
rent  Hall "  about  a  month,  Por- 
geen reached  such  a  state  of 
chronic  exhilaration  that  Charles 
said  something  really  must  be 
done.  Mary  suggested  that  he 
should  be  made  to  take  the 
pledge,  Charles  said  he  must 
go,  and  on  their  appealing  to 
me  I  could  think  of  nothing 
better  than  to  try  and  ration 
the  old  man's  drink.  But,  of 
course,  nothing  was  done  ex- 
cept to  tell  him  to  go  home,  of 
which  he  did  not  take  the 
slightest  heed. 

The  following  night  at  dinner 
he  was  worse  than  ever,  his 
walk  round  the  dinner-table 
resembling  that  of  an  indifferent 
tight-rope  walker  with  a  vege- 
table dish  just  clinging  to  each 
hand.  Twice  Charles  jumped 
up,  expecting  to  get  the  con- 
tents of  a  dish  on  top  of  his 
well-groomed  head,  but  each 
time  the  old  man  saved  the 
situation  by  a  terrific  effort  of 
mind  over  body. 

After  dinner  we  consulted 
Patsey,  who  told  us  that  when 
Porgeen  got  too  bad  entirely 
he  used  to  be  chastised,  and 
that  he  would  see  to  that ; 


and  having  boundless  faith  in 
Patsey 's  powers,  we  left  it  at 
that  and  prayed  for  the  best. 
Mary  wanted  to  ask  Patsey 
foolish  questions,  but  we  man- 
aged to  persuade  her  to  leave 
it  to  him. 

The  following  afternoon 
Charles  and  I  were  on  our 
way  to  Eobert's  house,  and 
when  near  the  gardens  we 
heard  the  most  terrible  cries 
of  an  old  man  in  great  distress 
in  the  big  walled-in  kitchen 
garden,  and  foolishly  rushed  as 
hard  as  we  could  to  the  rescue. 
Of  course,  we  ought  to  have 
guessed  what  the  noise  was 
about.  Inside  the  kitchen  gar- 
den a  horrible  sight  met  our 
eyes — the  chastisement  of  poor 
old  Porgeen. 

In  the  centre  of  the  garden 
stood  a  group  :  Porgeen  look- 
ing very  dejected ;  John,  the 
head  gardener,  and  also  Por- 
geen's  brother-in-law — a  huge 
man,  as  broad  both  ways  as 
he  was  long,  and  looking  very 
truculent ;  Porgeen's  wife — a 
great,  wild -looking,  strapping, 
mountainy  woman ;  and  lastly, 
Patsey  with  a  stout  ash-plant. 

As  we  entered,  Porgeen,  roar- 
ing and  bellowing,  at  Patsey 's 
direction  was  mounting  on 
John's  great  back  pick-a-back 
fashion  (Patsey  told  us  after- 
wards that  Porgeen  always  re- 
minded him  of  a  fly  on  a  round 
of  beef  on  these  occasions), 
while  his  wife,  Honor,  having 
received  the  ash-plant  from 
Patsey,  stood  ready  for  action. 
But  before  the  first  blow  could 
fall  Porgeen  started  to  cry  out, 
"  'Arrah,  mind  me  livery  but- 


762 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


[Dec. 


tons.  My  God,  the  mistress'll 
murder  me  if  I  lose  one,"  and 
kept  it  up  throughout  the 
severe  beating  which  followed 
from  Honor,  while  all  the  time 
a  cloud  of  dust  rose  at  every 
blow  from  the  old  man's  clothes. 

At  last  Patsey  shouted, 
"  Enough,  enough,  woman ;  do 
ye  want  to  kill  yer  husband  f  " 
John  released  his  grip  of  the 
old  man,  who  at  once  ambled 
off  for  the  pantry,  while  we 
stole  away  before  the  party 
knew  that  we  had  witnessed 
the  chastisement  of  Porgeen. 
A  drastic  remedy  of  other  days, 
but  it  had  a  wonderful  effect 
on  the  old  footman,  who  showed 
no  signs  of  poteen  for  many 
days  after  it. 

For  years  Porgeen  had  one 
arch -persecutor,  a  man  called 
Eogan,  who  drove  the  bread- 
van  which  used  to  deliver  Mr 
Mulligan's  fresh  bread  through- 
out that  part  of  the  country 
twice  a  week.  Eogan  always 
managed  to  turn  up  at  the 
house  at  dinner-time,  and  after- 
wards would  spend  a  pleasant 
(to  him)  half -hour  or  hour  in 
the  pantry  gossiping  with  Pat- 
sey and  badgering  Porgeen. 
Apparently  Porgeen  was  madly 
jealous  of  the  bread-van  man's 
attentions  to  his  wife — probably 
all  imagination, — and  Eogan 's 
parting  shot  used  always  to  be, 
"  Ah,  well,  I  must  be  getting 
along  now,  sure  Honor  (Por- 
geen's  wife)  will  be  after  ex- 
pecting me  this  last  hour  or 
more." 

At  this  Porgeen  would  spring 
up,  livid  with  rage,  and  scream 
at  the  breadman,  "  Get  along 


to  blazes  out  of  this,  ye  dirty 
robber,  or  I'll  hit  ye  a  bat  along 
the  lug-hole."  Then  Eogan, 
who  was  a  huge  man  with 
fingers  like  harrow  pins,  would 
grip  Porgeen  by  the  first  part 
of  him  which  came  handy, 
deposit  him  in  the  sink  on  top 
of  the  "  tay  "  things,  boiling 
water  and  soda,  and  be  out 
and  off  before  Porgeen,  scream- 
ing with  rage  and  pain  from 
the  boiling  water,  could  extri- 
cate himself.  And  this  used 
to  happen  regularly  twice  a 
week  for  years. 

Mary  once  asked  Patsey  why 
so  much  poteen  did  not  kill 
Porgeen.  "Is  it  to  kill  that 
man,  miss  ;  sure  hasn't  he  the 
constitution  of  an  ass,  and  did 
any  one  ever  see  a  dead  ass 
anyhow  ?  "  replied  Patsey,  and 
then  proceeded  to  tell  us  how 
Porgeen  once  really  did  very 
nearly  meet  his  end  from 
drink. 

Both  the  master  and  mistress 
were  above  in  Dublin  at  the 
time,  and  the  steward  brought 
Porgeen  a  present  of  a  pint  of 
fresh-made  poteen  from  some 
farm  in  the  mountains  where 
he  had  been  buying  sheep, 
meaning  to  give  the  old  man  a 
small  dose  at  a  time. 

But  the  first  taste  of  the 
fiery  newly-made  poteen  set 
the  old  man  crazy  for  more, 
and  knowing  where  the  steward 
had  locked  up  the  bottle,  he 
broke  open  the  press  at  the 
first  chance  and  retired  to  the 
pantry  with  the  bottle. 

Some  time  afterwards  Patsey 
found  him  lying  on  the  pantry 
floor,  apparently  stone  -  cold. 


1921.] 


A  Fishing  Trip  in  the  Emerald  Isle. 


763 


Of  course  there  was  tremendous 
excitement  among  the  servants 
and  a  lot  of  talk,  but  nothing 
done  :  one  and  all  were  afraid 
that  the  old  fellow's  death 
would  be  the  cause  of  getting 
them  into  serious  trouble.  The 
steward  then  appeared  on  the 
scene,  which  now  resembled  the 
beginning  of  a  wake,  and  being 
a  northerner  at  once  took 
action. 

Porgeen  was  placed  on  a 
groom's  back  and  carried  up 
to  the  big  sleeping-room  over 
the  harness-room  where  he  usu- 
ally slept,  except  during  the 
week-ends,  when  he  used  to 
visit  his  family.  They  then 
put  him  to  bed  with  a  red-hot 
brick  on  every  part  of  his 
anatomy,  covered  him  up  with 
a  pile  of  horse-sheets,  and  left 
him  there  to  recover  or  die. 
The  following  morning  the 
hardy  old  lad  was  down  and 
about  as  early  as  usual,  and 
quite  unconscious  of  anything 


unusual  having  happened  over- 
night. 

During  one  of  the  first  walks 
we  took  we  passed  Porgeen's 
home,  which  had  originally 
been  a  small  outhouse  at  the 
gable-end  of  his  wife's  parents' 
home — a  small  mountain  farm 
just  outside  the  demesne  walls. 

Honor  was  a  housemaid  be- 
low at  the  big  house  at  the 
time  of  her  marriage  to  Por- 
geen, and  as  soon  as  the  cere- 
mony was  over  the  question 
arose  as  to  where  Honor  was  to 
live.  Porgeen's  idea  was  that 
she  should  continue  to  reside 
with  her  parents,  but  unfor- 
tunately they  held  different 
views,  knowing  the  vagaries 
of  the  bridegroom.  Eventually 
Porgeen  paid  some  handyman 
to  fit  up  this  outhouse — it  was 
little  better  than  a  hen-house 
— as  a  dwelling,  and  here  they 
had  brought  up  a  large  family, 
and  appeared  perfectly  content 
and  happy. 


764 


[Deo. 


WOELD   EEVOLUTION. 


SINCE  the  '  Life  of  Lord 
Halifax  '  was  written  by  Miss 
Helen  Foxcroft,  we  have  had 
no  historical  work  by  a  woman 
equal  in  importance  to  Mrs 
Webster's  '  French  Eevolution,' 
or  to  her  later  book,  '  World 
Eevolution,'  which  deals  with 
what  she  calls  the  plot  against 
civilisation. 

Miss  Foxcroft 's  writing  is 
chiefly  remarkable  for  that  fine 
balance  of  qualities,  of  historic 
insight  and  controlled  imagina- 
tion, by  which  she  proves  her 
possession  of  the  rarest  gift 
granted  to  historians,  the  gift 
of  the  judicial  mind  ;  it  is,  no 
doubt,  as  much  a  moral  trait 
as  a  matter  of  intellectual 
training.  Mrs  Webster,  though 
nob  the  equal  of  Miss  Foxcroft 
in  this  particular  point,  yet 
resembles  her  in  others  —  in 
breadth  of  outlook  combined 
with  closeness  of  investigation, 
and  in  that  patient  industry 
which  is  the  essence  of  culture 
as  of  conscientiousness. 

It  belongs  perhaps  to  the 
nature  of  her  subject  that  she 
is  occasionally  heard  speaking 
rather  as  an  advocate  than  a 
historian.  To  say  this  is  in 
no  way  to  detract  from  the 
credit  due  to  her  careful  pre- 
sentment of  facts  and  com- 
parison of  evidence.  No  one 
could  fail  to  be  impressed  by 
the  earnestness,  the  candour, 
and  scrupulous  fairness  of  her 
general  treatment.  But  it  is 
nevertheless  a  fact  that  she 


has  a  case  to  make  out,  and 
it  obliges  her  to  adopt  from 
time  to  time  an  argumentative 
line.  Her  case  is  this,  that — 

"  The  crisis  of  to-day  is  no 
development  of  modern  times, 
but  a  mere  continuation  of  the 
immense  movement  that  began 
in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  In  a  word,  it  is  all 
one  and  the  same  revolution — 
the  revolution  that  found  its 
first  expression  in  France  of 
1789.  Both  in  its  nature  and 
its  aims  it  differs  entirely  from 
former  revolutions,  which  had 
for  their  origin  some  localised 
or  temporary  cause.  The  re- 
volution through  which  we  are 
now  passing  is  not  local  but 
universal,  it  is  not  political 
bat  social,  and  its  causes  must 
be  sought,  not  in  popular  dis- 
content, but  in  a  deep-laid 
conspiracy  that  uses  the  people 
to  their  own  undoing." 

Secret  societies  are  not  an 
indigenous  growth  in  our  island. 
Strenuous  efforts  have  been 
made  to  plant  them  here,  but 
hitherto  with  conspicuous  want 
of  success.  The  British  air 
does  not  suit  these  transplanted 
growths,  and  they  dwindle  and 
decay.  Perhaps  on  that  ac- 
count the  British  mind  is  apt 
to  under-estimate  the  dangers 
which  spring  from  such  socie- 
ties, threatening  the  very  ex- 
istence of  the  social  order. 
A  system  which  is  secret,  sud- 
den, and  dramatic  in  its  mode 
of  operation,  will  always  strike 


1921.] 


World  Revolution. 


765 


the  British  mind  as  childish  ; 
and  the  average  citizen  will  re- 
fuse to  exert  himself  to  oppose 
any  development  which  he  pri- 
vately describes  to  himself  as 
nonsensical. 

For  the  Briton  is  the  very 
opposite  of  the  Bussian,  to 
whom,  as  Mrs  Webster  remarks, 
intrigue,  particularly  of  the 
political  variety,  is  the  breath 
of  life,  just  as  it  is  to  the 
southern  Irishman. 

On  the  Continent,  from  the 
twelfth  century  onwards,  sub- 
versive sects  have  been  formed 
and  have  flourished.  As  early 
as  1185  an  Order  had  been 
formed,  calling  itself  the  "  Con- 
fre*rie  de  la  Paix,"  with  the 
main  object  of  putting  an  end 
to  wars,  but  also  with  the  idea 
of  establishing  community  of 
land.  The  members  of  this 
Order  set  out  to  destroy  the 
chateaux  and  monasteries,  but 
were  themselves  destroyed  by 
the  nobles,  who  naturally  took 
up  arms  in  defence  of  their 
property.  This  early  "  dawn 
of  Socialism,"  so  easily  extin- 
guished, was  followed  by  the 
institution  of  the  Knights 
Templars,  who  on  the  failure 
of  their  rebellion  against  the 
French  king,  Philippe  le  Bel, 
resolved  themselves  into  a  secret 
society,  and  eventually  founded 
the  "  Grand  Chapter"  of  French 
Freemasonry,  which,  allying  it- 
self with  the  Grand  Orient  in 
later  days,  played  such  a  part 
in  the  great  upheaval  of  1789 
as  emboldened  them  to  claim 
the  Eevolution  as  their  work. 
An  exaggerated  claim,  of  course, 
and  Mrs  Webster  is  careful  to 


differentiate  between  British 
and  Continental  masonry.  The 
former,  she  maintains,  has  al- 
ways retained  the  spirit  of 
brotherly  association  and  gen- 
eral benevolence  which  ani- 
mated its  founders,  while  in 
France,  as  in  other  Continental 
countries,  the  lodges  became 
centres  of  political  intrigue. 

It  was  on  the  1st  of  May 
1776  that  the  Order  of  the 
Illuminati  of  Bavaria  was 
founded  by  Adam  Weishaupt, 
a  man  described  by  Louis 
Blanc  as  "  the  profoundest 
conspirator  that  has  ever  ex- 
isted." His  early  training  by 
the  Jesuits,  while  it  filled  him 
with  hatred  for  their  Order, 
was  yet  efficient  for  the  pro- 
duction of  a  skilled  organiser, 
a  determined  rebel,  a  leader 
and  deceiver  of  men.  The 
subversive  teaching  of  the 
French  philosophers,  the  anti- 
Christian  doctrines  of  the  Mani- 
cheans,  and  some  obscure  form 
of  Egyptian  occultism,  were 
assimilated  by  this  curiously 
depraved  genius,  whose  lead- 
ing motives  seem  to  have  been 
a  thirst  for  power,  and  a  hunger 
for  the  destruction  of  every- 
thing that  stands  in  the  name 
of  religion  and  order.  He  was 
not  a  rash  adventurer.  Five 
years  were  spent  in  laying  and 
maturing  his  plans,  in  reducing 
his  ideas  to  a  system,  and  the 
Order  of  the  Illuminati  was 
the  result  of  this  long  medita- 
tion. The  name  was  not  new, 
for  in  the  fifteenth  century 
there  existed  a  German  sect  of 
this  name,  professing  Satan- 
worship  ;  and  the  fundamental 


766 


World  Revolution. 


[Dec. 


theories  of  the  Order  were,  of 
course,  borrowed  from  Bous- 
seau,  whose  fallacious  notion 
that  man  in  his  primitive  state 
was  free  and  happy,  appears 
to  have  been  adopted  by  every 
thinking  as  well  as  every  un- 
thinking person  in  Europe  at 
that  date.  But  Weishaupt  was 
quite  free  from  the  weakness 
of  seeking  to  be  original.  The 
aims  of  his  Order  are  sum- 
marised by  Mrs  Webster  in  the 
following  six  points  : — 

1.  Abolition  of  monarchy  and 

all  ordered  government. 

2.  Abolition  of  private  pro- 

perty. 

3.  Abolition  of  inheritance. 

4.  Abolition  of  patriotism. 

5.  Abolition    of    the    family 

(i.e.,  of  marriage  and  all 
morality,  and  the  insti- 
tution of  the  communal 
education  of  children). 

6.  Abolition  of  all  religion. 
Now    it    cannot    be    denied 

that  if  these  points  are  ever 
gained,  then  everything  for 
which  civilisation  stands  must 
be  destroyed ;  nor  can  it  be 
denied  that  the  aims  of  Adam 
Weishaupt  are  precisely  those 
which  Lenin,  under  German 
direction,  is  carrying  out  among 
the  doomed  people  of  Eussia 
to-day.  The  main  object  of 
Mrs  Webster's  book  is  to  show 
the  continuity  of  Illuminism 
through  all  the  revolutionary 
ferment  of  the  last  145  years  ; 
and  she  faces  at  the  outset  the 
difficulty  which  presents  itself 
to  every  inquirer,  as  to  how, 
while  succeeding  groups  of  world 
revolutionaries  were  following 
in  his  footsteps,  and  actually 


carrying  out  his  gigantic  con- 
ception, yet  the  identity  of  the 
inspiring  genius  should  have 
remained  absolutely  unknown 
to  posterity. 

It  was  an  essential  part  of 
the  plan,  and  a  rule  stringently 
enforced  on  every  adept,  that 
he  should  never  allow  himself 
to  be  known  as  an  Illuminatus, 
and  as  far  as  possible  should 
conceal  the  very  existence  of 
the  Order.  Weishaupt  worked, 
lago-like,  in  the  dark.  In  the 
height  of  his  activity  he  sepa- 
rated from  his  closest  intimate 
and  coadjutor,  the  man  of 
whom  he  had  said,  "  Give  me 
six  men  of  his  stamp,  and  with 
them  I  will  change  the  face  of 
the  universe  !  " — because  this 
helper  had  developed  a  taste 
for  notoriety,  and  was  desirous 
to  share  every  secret  of  his 
chief's.  The  Order  of  the 
Illuminati  aims  always  at  the 
essence,  not  the  ostentation  of 
power,  and  conceals  its  forces 
as  an  artillery  leader  his  guns  ; 
but  from  the  beginning  its 
members  were  convinced  that 
they  "  must  in  the  end  rule 
the  world." 

All  religion,  all  love  of  coun- 
try and  loyalty  to  sovereigns, 
were  to  be  annihilated,  a  fav- 
ourite maxim  of  the  Order 
being — 

"  Tons  les  rois  et  tous  lea  prStres 
Sont  des  fripons  et  dea  traltres." 

This  did  not  prevent  the  enrol- 
ling of  kings  and  priests  in 
their  ranks.  It  rather  gave  a 
zest  to  the  process  of  beguiling 
deluded  dignitaries  into  joining 
a  society  which  was  conspiring 


1921.] 


World  Revolution. 


767 


for  their  destruction.  Very 
slowly  and  gradually  their  eyes 
would  be  opened ;  and  per- 
haps the  astute  intellects  of 
Frederick  of  Prussia  and  of 
Mirabeau,  both  members  of 
the  Uluminati,  were  fascinated 
and  baffled  by  turns,  even  as 
intellects  of  lesser  brilliance 
had  been.  It  is  curious  to  see 
the  penetration  of  Queen  Maria 
Theresa,  and  to  read  in  the 
words  she  addressed  to  her 
daughter,  the  Dauphine  of 
France,  with  what  prophetic 
vision  she  measured  the  pro- 
jects of  Prussia: — 

"  Every  one  in  Europe  knows 
to  what  point  one  can  count 
on  the  King  of  Prussia,  and 
how  far  one  can  depend  on  his 
word.  France  has  been  able 
to  perceive  this  under  diverse 
circumstances.  And  yet  that 
is  the  sovereign  who  aspires  to 
erect  himself  as  protector  and 
dictator  of  Germany.  What 
is  still  more  extraordinary,  the 
Powers  do  not  think  of  uniting 
to  prevent  such  a  misfortune, 
from  which,  sooner  or  later, 
all  will  have  to  endure  the  dis- 
astrous consequences.  What  I 
put  forward  concerns  all  the 
Powers  of  Europe  ;  the  future 
does  not  appear  to  me  under 
a  smiling  aspect.  Yet  to-day 
we  endure  the  influence  of  that 
military  and  despotic  monarchy 
which  recognises  no  principle, 
but  which,  in  all  that  it  does 
and  all  that  it  undertakes, 
always  pursues  the  same  goal, 
its  own  interest  and  its  exclu- 
sive advantage.  If  this  Prus- 
sian principle  is  allowed  to  con- 
tinue to  gain  ground,  what 


hope  is  there  for  those  who  will 
succeed  us  one  day  ?  " 

This  is  spoken  with  the 
directness  of  a  woman,  and 
with  the  instinct  of  a  born 
ruler.  Her  prescience  failed 
to  avert  the  perils  that  even 
then  beset  her  daughter's  path, 
and  it  remained  for  our  own 
generation  to  verify  her  pre 
dictions  concerning  Prussia. 

The  training  of  the  adepts 
was  a  work  of  profound  sub- 
tlety. Proselytes  were  not  ad- 
mitted at  once  to  the  secret 
aims  of  Illuminism,  but  were 
initiated  step  by  step  into  the 
higher  mysteries,  for  it  was 
considered  of  the  first  import- 
ance to  reveal  nothing  that 
might  revolt  the  mind  of  a 
convert.  Therefore  to  the  no- 
vice it  was  represented  that 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  the 
Grand  Master  of  the  Order, 
and  that  when  Christ  exhorted 
His  disciples  to  despise  riches, 
it  was  in  order  to  prepare  the 
world  for  that  community  of 
goods  that  should  do  away  with 
property.  They  were  taught 
that  man  is  not  really  bad 
except  as  he  is  made  so  by 
arbitrary  morality.  "  He  is 
bad  because  Eeligion,  the  State, 
and  bad  examples  pervert  him," 

After  this  edifying  initiation, 
the  proselyte  would  be  ex- 
horted to  dismiss  from  his 
mind  all  ideas  of  a  hereafter, 
all  fear  of  retribution  for  evil 
deeds,  and  to  substitute  for 
these  superstitions  the  religion 
of  Eeason.  But  soon  after  his 
deliverance  from  the  bondage 
of  religion,  he  would  be^in- 
structed  that  the  loosening"  of 


768 


World  Revolution. 


[Dec. 


all  social  ties  must  follow,  that 
both  family  and  national  life 
must  cease  to  exist,  so  as  to 
"  make  of  the  human  race  one 
good  and  happy  family."  The 
Superiors  of  the  Order  were 
assumed  to  be  the  most  perfect 
and  enlightened  of  men,  and 
there  were  many  ranks  and 
degrees  within  the  body  ;  but 
it  was  part  of  the  system  to 
let  every  member  think  that 
he  was  not  far  from  that  inner 
circle  of  sublime  authority  into 
which  as  a  matter  of  fact  there 
was  not  the  slightest  possi- 
bility of  his  penetrating.  Espi- 
onage, implicit  obedience,  and 
perfect  secrecy  were  enjoined 
upon  all  members,  and  heavy 
penalties  were  threatened  in 
case  of  default.  Thus  the  at- 
traction of  mystery  and  adven- 
ture alternated  with  the  fas- 
cination of  fear. 

Women  were  to  be  enlisted 
as  Illuminati  by  being  given 
what  Weishaupt  called  "  hints 
of  emancipation." 

"  Through  women,"  he  wrote, 
"  one  may  often  work  the  best 
in  the  world  ;  to  insinuate  our- 
selves with  these  and  to  win 
them  over  should  be  one  of  our 
cleverest  studies.  More  or  less 
they  can  all  be  led  towards 
change  by  vanity,  curiosity, 
sensuality,  and  inclination. 
From  this  one  can  draw  much 
profit  for  the  good  cause.  This 
sex  has  a  large  part  of  the 
world  in  its  hands." 

Virtuous  women  were  valu- 
able for  the  prestige  they  would 
confer  on  the  society,  the  lighter 
sort  for  the  attraction  they 
exercised  over  those  of  their 
own  inclinations;  and  both  kinds 


could  be  exploited  to  furnish 
funds  for  the  wise  men  who 
intended  to  keep  them  always 
under  direction,  while  allowing 
them  to  imagine  themselves 
"  emancipated." 

It  seems  to  have  been  Weis- 
haupt's  method  to  avoid  con- 
tention with  the  convictions  of 
the  wise  and  foolish  alike,  but 
to  keep  hold  of  each  by  en- 
couraging his  particular  delu- 
sion, and  flattering  him  with 
a  prospect  of  wielding  power, 
and  swaying  the  destinies  of 
the  world.  His  devices  had 
every  appearance  of  success, 
and  in  triumph  he  wrote  once 
to  a  friend  : — 

"  The  most  admirable  thing 
of  all  is  that  great  Protestant 
and  Eeformed  theologians  (Lu- 
therans and  Calvinists)  who 
belong  to  our  Order  really 
believe  they  see  in  it  the  true 
and  genuine  mind  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion.  Oh,  man,  what 
cannot  you  be  brought  to 
believe !  " 

It  was  not  until  after  his 
admission  to  the  higher  grades 
that  the  adept  was  made  aware 
of  the  real  intentions  of  Illu- 
minism  with  regard  to  religion  ; 
and  similarly  the  professions  of 
philanthropy,  and  of  brotherly 
care  for  the  poor  and  ignorant, 
who  were  designed  to  be 
"  united  in  one  good  and  happy 
family,"  resolved  themselves 
into  cold  calculations  how  best 
to  employ  the  simple  and  cred- 
ulous multitude  in  destroying 
the  social  order  which  was  their 
real  protection,  and  involving 
all  classes  in  a  common  ruin. 

Mrs  Webster's  earlier  book, 
'  The  French  Eevolution,'  traced 


1921.] 


World  Revolution. 


769 


the  working  of  that  Orle'aniste 
conspiracy  which  chiefly  di- 
rected the  opening  stages  of 
the  Eevolution,  which  created 
the  artificial  scarcity  of  grain 
during  the  spring  and  summer 
of  1789,  and  organised  the 
siege  of  the  Bastille  and  the 
march  on  Versailles.  This  book, 
as  a  candid  critic  avowed, 
"  will  be  a  veritable  revelation 
to  those  who  only  know  of  the 
Eevolution  from  Carlyle's  bril- 
liant but  profoundly  mislead- 
ing pages."  Mrs  Webster  de- 
monstrates that,  during  the  first 
two  years  of  the  Eevolution, 
Illuminism  concealed  itself  un- 
der the  guise  of  popular  tum- 
ults, held  up  the  food  supplies, 
blocked  all  reforms  in  the 
National  Assembly,  and  or- 
ganised demonstrations  directly 
opposed  to  the  interests  of  the 
people. 

"  To  whatever  agency  we 
attribute  it,  the  mechanism  of 
the  French  Eevolution  distin- 
guishes it  from  all  previous 
revolutions.  Hitherto  the  iso- 
lated revolutions  that  had  taken 
place  throughout  the  history 
of  the  world  can  be  clearly  re- 
cognised as  spontaneous  move- 
ments brought  about  by  oppres- 
sion, or  by  a  political  faction 
enjoying  some  measure  of  pop- 
ular support,  and  therefore  en- 
deavouring to  satisfy  the  de- 
mands of  the  people.  But  in 
the  French  Eevolution  we  see 
for  the  first  time  that  plan  in 
operation  which  has  been  car- 
ried on  right  up  to  the  present 
moment — the  systematic  attempt 
to  create  grievances  in  order  to 
exploit  them." 

When  one  considers  the  re- 


sults of  those  first  years  of 
revolution,  the  ruin  of  the 
Monarchy,  the  destruction  of 
the  aristocracy,  the  massacres 
in  the  prisons,  the  massacres 
outside  the  prisons,  the  misery, 
starvation,  and  demoralisation 
of  a  bewildered  people  living 
under  the  Eeign  of  Terror,  it 
seems  as  if  the  dream  of 
Illuminism  has  been  realised, 
even  to  the  burning  of  libraries 
and  the  destruction  of  treasures 
of  art  and  literature,  which 
were  doomed  because  the  "sov- 
ereign people  "  were  held  to  be 
all  the  more  admirable  for  their 
ignorance.  As  Mrs  Webster 
says,  no  one  can  deny  that 
Eobespierre  was  a  State  Social- 
ist in  precisely  the  sense  in 
which  we  understand  the  term 
to-day.  He  was  consistent  and 
implacable.  Knowing  that  re- 
volution is  never  accomplished 
without  bloodshed,  he  pushed 
on  to  his  goal  regardless  of 
human  life,  and  for  this  reason 
the  Socialist  writers  of  to-day 
never  refer  to  Eobespierre  as 
a  Socialist,  fearing  to  discredit 
their  origin.  They  prefer  the 
names  of  Eobert  Owen,  the 
English  cotton-mill  owner,  and 
the  French  visionaries,  Saint- 
Simon  and  Fourier.  But  it 
was  Eobespierre  who  contended 
that  equality  would  only  be  a 
vain  word  as  long  as  the  owners 
of  property  were  allowed  to 
tyrannise  over  the  masses,  and 
that  for  the  emancipation  of 
these  last  there  was  no  way  but 
to  place  all  property  in  the 
hands  of  the  Government.  It 
was  a  Socialist  State  that  he 
aimed  at,  and  the  Eeign  of 
Terror  was  the  logical  result  of 


770 


World  Revolution . 


[Dec. 


Socialist  doctrines.  Then,  as 
now,  it  was  found  that  the 
sudden  dislocation  of  the  in- 
dustrial system  must  result  in 
national  bankruptcy,  that  the 
policy  of  hostility  to  the  mer- 
cantile bourgeoisie,  and  indiffer- 
ence to  manufacturing  interests 
could  have  no  result  but  the 
production  of  unemployment 
on  a  vast  scale ;  and  faced  by 
the  spectacle  of  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  working  men,  for 
whom  neither  food,  land,  money 
nor  work  could  be  found,  these 
early  experimenters  in  State 
Socialism  formed  the  fearful 
project  of  reducing  the  popu- 
lation. 

"  If  the  hecatombs  carried 
out  all  over  Prance  never 
reached  the  huge  proportions 
planned  by  the  leaders,  it  was 
not  for  want  of  what  they  de- 
scribed as  '  energy  in  the  art 
of  revolution.'  Night  and  day 
the  members  of  the  Comite"  de 
Salut  Public  sat  round  the 
green-covered  table  in  the  Tuil- 
eries  with  the  map  of  France 
spread  out  before  them,  point- 
ing out  towns  and  villages,  and 
calculating  how  many  heads 
they  must  have  in  each  depart- 
ment. Night  and  day  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal  passed 
on,  without  judgment,  its  never- 
ending  stream  of  victims,  whilst 
near  by  the  indefatigable  Fou- 
quier  bent  over  his  lists  for  the 
morrow,  and  in  the  provinces 
the  proconsuls  toiled  unremit- 
tingly at  the  same  herculean 
task." 

Although  the  term  State 
Socialism  was  not  invented  till 
later,  it  cannot  be  denied  that 


all  the  essentials  of  State  Social- 
ism were  contained  in  Robes- 
pierre's Declaration  of  the 
Rights  of  Man.  His  favourite 
maxim,  "  the  rich  man  is  the 
enemy  of  the  sans-culotte,"  ex- 
presses the  whole  spirit  of  the 
class-war  so  diligently  preached 
by  Marx  at  a  later  date,  even 
as  the  Marxian  theory  of  "  wage 
slavery  "  was  contained  in  the 
declaration  that  "  Liberty  will 
always  be  precarious  as  long  as 
one  part  of  the  nation  lives  on 
wages  from  the  other." 

Be  it  observed  that  Robes- 
pierre was  not  an  Illuminatus. 
His  aim  was  a  constructive 
Communism.  But  his  asso- 
ciates and  successors,  Baboauf 
and  Buonarotti,  in  the  true 
spirit  of  Weishaupt,  laid  a  plot 
to  bring  about  that  "  universal 
revolution  that  should  deal  the 
deathblow  to  society."  Their 
plan  was  to  enlist  the  people, 
while  keeping  them  ignorant 
of  the  real  design,  to  overthrow 
the  whole  existing  order,  and 
in  one  wild  day  of  pillage  and 
massacre  to  transfer  the  execu- 
tive power  to  the  hands  of  the 
conspirators.  On  this  "  great 
day  of  the  people,"  the  Re- 
public of  Equality  should  be 
established.  Its  programme,  as 
revealed  to  us  by  its  authors, 
was  founded  on  the  doctrine, 
"  community  of  goods  and  of 
labour,"  and  it  was  enacted 
that — 

"  Every  one  must  be  forced 
to  work  so  many  hours  a  day 
in  return  for  equal  remunera- 
tion :  the  man  who  showed  him- 
self more  skilful  or  industrious 
than  his  fellows  would  be  re- 


1921.] 


World  Revolution. 


771 


compensed  merely  by  '  public 
gratitude.'  This  compulsory  la- 
bour was,  in  fact,  not  to  be 
paid  for  in  money  but  in  kind  ; 
for,  since  the  right  to  private 
property  constituted  the  prin- 
cipal evil  of  existing  society, 
the  distinction  of  '  mine  '  and 
*  thine  '  must  be  abolished,  and 
no  one  should  be  allowed  to 
possess  anything  of  his  own. 
Payment  could  therefore  only 
be  made  in  the  products  of 
labour,  which  were  all  to  be 
collected  in  huge  communal 
stores,  and  doled  out  in  equal 
rations  to  the  workers.  In- 
evitably commerce  would  be 
done  away  with,  and  money 
was  no  longer  to  be  coined  or 
admitted  to  the  country  ;  for- 
eign trade  must  therefore  be 
carried  on  by  coin  now  in 
circulation,  and  when  that  was 
exhausted,  by  a  system  of 
barter." 

The  advocates  of  equality 
were  not  so  innocent  as  to 
suppose  the  French  people 
would  be  attracted  by  such 
a  prospect  of  enforced  labour 
and  renunciation  and  recipro- 
city. The  people  were  not 
really  admitted  to  their  con- 
fidence at  all.  With  the  usual 
cynicism  of  conspirators,  they 
looked  to  their  trained  agents 
and  paid  accomplices  to  work 
up  the  popular  fury  which 
they  expected  to  turn  to  ac- 
count ;  but  their  expectations 
were  disappointed,  for  the  plot 
was  revealed  to  the  Directory, 
with  the  result  that  Baboeuf 
was  arrested  and  executed. 

But  as  Baboeuf  borrowed 
from  Eobespierre,  so  did  Louis 

VOL.    COX. — NO.   MCCLXXIV. 


Blanc  from  Baboeuf,  and  so 
did  Karl  Marx  from  all  three. 
Through  the  earlier  phases  of 
French  Socialism  leading  up 
to  the  Eevolution  of  1848 
there  is  a  terrible  sameness. 
Always  the  suffering  people 
are  deceived.  They  mistake 
friends  for  foes,  they  put  their 
trust  in  eloquent  denunciators 
of  the  established  order,  what- 
ever it  be,  and  there  is  a  rising 
tide  of  revolt.  Sometimes  the 
orator  who  inflames  them  has 
a  genuine  belief  in  Communism 
and  a  genuine  spring  of  com- 
passion, as  in  the  case  of 
Louis  Blanc,  who  devoted  all 
his  energies  to  the  reorganisa- 
tion of  labour  on  an  ideal 
system.  But  the  National 
Workshops  could  not  absorb 
a  tenth  part  of  the  unem- 
ployed, and  in  fact  the  general 
position  in  1848  was  very  like 
what  we  know  so  well  in  Eng- 
land to-day. 

Trade  was  paralysed  by  the 
prevailing  feeling  of  insecurity 
and  by  continual  strikes  of 
workmen,  and  the  industrial 
situation  had  become  chaotic. 
This  is  exactly  the  atmosphere 
most  favourable  to  the  dema- 
gogue and  the  revolutionary. 
While  loudly  proclaiming  the 
need  of  reforms,  their  main 
care  is  to  defeat  reforms  by 
alienating  the  sympathies  of 
the  class  in  power,  and  exhort- 
ing the  people  to  despise  pacific 
measures,  and  place  no  trust 
in  any  one  but  themselves. 
It  is  they  who  turn  the  people's 
just  demands  for  social  reform 
into  war  on  the  community, 
and  cause  the  gulf  between 
2r 


772 


World  Revolution. 


[Dec. 


the  industrial  proletariat  and 
the  rest  of  the  nation  to  yawn 
more  widely  and  hopelessly. 
How  lately  have  we  seen  this 
exemplified  ! — and  how  long  ago 
might  we  have  read,  learned, 
and  inwardly  digested  some 
few  of  the  lessons  of  history 
not  yet  a  century  old !  But  a 
knowledge  of  history  is  not 
conspicuous  among  our  states- 
men. 

No  one  will  deny  the  value 
of  Mrs  Webster's  analysis,  still 
less  the  absorbing  interest  of 
her  narrative,  and  especially 
of  the  contemporary  letters 
and  pamphlets  which  she  cites. 
But  it  has  been  objected  by 
some  critics  that  she  over- 
rates the  importance  of  the 
part  played  by  the  secret 
societies,  by  the  Illuminati  in 
particular,  and  ascribes  to 
them  a  continuity  of  influence 
and  a  concentration  of  pur- 
pose which  they  neither  exer- 
cised nor  possessed.  To  the 
same  objectors  it  seems  that 
she  fails  to  prove  the  com- 
plicity of  Jewish  agitators  with 
modern  revolutionary  conspira- 
tors ;  for,  of  course,  it  is  an 
obvious  reflection  that  indus- 
trial revolution  and  the  over- 
throw of  the  social  system 
cannot  be  favourable  to  the 
aims  of  traders  and  money- 
lenders, of  whom  the  Jews  are 
the  representatives  par  excel- 
lence. But  here  we  have  the 
instruction  of  that  distinguished 
Jew,  Disraeli : — 

"  The  Jews  represent  the 
Semitic  principle — all  that  is 
spiritual  in  our  nature.  They 
are  the  trustees  of  tradition 
and  the  conservators  of  the 


religious  element.  They  are 
a  living  and  the  most  striking 
evidence  of  the  falsity  of  that 
pernicious  doctrine  of  modern 
times,  the  natural  equality  of 
man.  Cosmopolitan  fraternity 
is  a  principle  which,  were  it 
possible  to  act  on  it,  would 
deteriorate  the  great  races  and 
destroy  all  the  genius  of  the 
world.  .  .  .  The  native  ten- 
dency of  the  Jewish  race,  who 
are  justly  proud  of  their  blood, 
is  against  the  doctrine  of  the 
equality  of  man.  They  have 
also  another  characteristic — 
the  faculty  of  acquisition.  Al- 
though the  European  laws  have 
endeavoured  to  prevent  their 
obtaining  property,  they  have 
nevertheless  become  remark- 
able for  their  accumulated 
wealth.  Thus  it  will  be  seen 
that  all  the  tendencies  of  the 
Jewish  race  are  conservative. 
Their  bias  is  to  religion,  pro- 
perty, and  natural  aristocracy." 

Persuasive  as  this  is,  it  does 
not  lead  in  the  direction  which 
it  seems  to  anticipate,  for 
Disraeli  proceeds  to  point  out 
that  the  Jews,  who  are  not 
genuine  revolutionaries,  will 
ruthlessly  destroy  existing  gov- 
ernments in  order  to  establish 
their  own  domination  in  re- 
ligion, property,  and  power. 
Eeferring  to  the  conflagration 
in  1848,  he  remarks  : — 

"  The  influence  of  the  Jews 
may  be  traced  in  the  last  out- 
break of  the  destructive  prin- 
ciple in  Europe.  An  insurrec- 
tion takes  place  against  tradi- 
tion and  aristocracy,  against 
religion  and  property.  Destruc- 
tion of  the  Semitic  principle, 
extirpation  of  the  Jewish  re- 


1921.] 


World  Revolution. 


773 


ligion,  whether  in  the  Mosaic 
or  in  the  Christian  form,  the 
natural  equality  of  men  and 
the  abrogation  of  property,  are 
proclaimed  by  the  secret  socie- 
ties who  form  provisional  gov- 
ernments, and  men  of  Jewish 
race  are  found  at  the  head  of 
every  one  of  them." 

Their  activities  have  not 
passed  unnoticed.  It  is  in- 
teresting to  compare  with  Dis- 
raeli's warning  the  reflections 
of  Mr  Hyndman  in  an  article 
in  the  '  Nineteenth  Century,' 
in  January  1881 — "  The  Dawn 
of  a  Eevolutionary  Epoch." 

"  The  influence  of  the  Jews 
at  the  present  time  is  more 
noticeable  than  ever.  They 
are  at  the  head  of  European 
capitalists.  In  politics  many 
Jews  are  in  the  front  rank. 
The  Press  in  more  than  one 
European  capital  is  almost 
wholly  in  their  hands.  The 
Eothschilds  are  but  the  lead- 
ing name  among  a  whole  series 
of  capitalists.  But  whilst,  on 
the  one  hand,  the  Jews  are 
thus  beyond  dispute  the 
leaders  of  the  plutocracy  of 
Europe,  another  section  of  the 
same  race  form  the  leaders  of 
that  revolutionary  propaganda 
which  is  making  way  against 
that  very  capitalist  class  re- 
presented by  their  own  fellow- 
Jews.  Jews — more  than  any 
other  men — have  held  forth 
against  those  who  make  their 
living  not  by  producing  value, 
but  by  trading  on  the  differ- 
ences of  values.  They  at  this 
moment  are  acting  as  the 
leaders  in  the  revolutionary 
movement.  Surely  we  have  here 
a  very  strange  phenomenon. 


.  .  .  Those  who  are  accustomed 
to  look  upon  all  Jews  as  essen- 
tially practical  and  conserva- 
tive, as  certain,  too,  to  enlist 
on  the  side  of  the  prevailing 
social  system,  will  be  obliged  to 
reconsider  their  conclusions." 

How  strangely  and  fearfully 
have  these  mild  predictions  of 
1881  been  fulfilled  in  Eussia  ! 
Little  as  we  can  know  at 
present  of  the  inner  springs 
of  that  hideous  machinery  of 
oppression  which  calls  itself 
the  Soviet  Government,  we 
know  that  Prussian  militarism 
and  Jewish  intrigue  are  in 
league  together  for  its  support. 

The  alliance  is  not  a  new 
one.  In  spite  of  Judenhetze, 
the  Jews  in  Germany  have 
always  been  able  to  sink  their 
racial  hatred  against  the  Gen- 
tiles, and  where  their  commer- 
cial interests  were  involved, 
to  co-operate  with  their  heredi- 
tary oppressors.  It  was  once 
observed  that  "  the  Jews  were 
the  only  people  that  could  use 
Bismarck." 

To  appreciate  the  force  of 
this  observation,  one  could  not 
do  better  than  study  the  rela- 
tions between  Bismarck  and 
the  two  most  influential  Jews 
of  his  period,  Ferdinand  Las- 
salle  and  Karl  Marx.  Of  the 
latter,  Mrs  Webster  has  drawn 
a  careful  portrait ;  and  consider- 
ing the  enormous  influence  of 
his  name  among  our  latter-day 
Socialists,  the  fact  that  his 
Communist  Manifesto  is  re- 
garded by  them  as  "  the  Char- 
ter of  Freedom  of  the  Workers 
of  the  World,"  and  that  his 
great  book  on  '  Capital,'  though 
ambiguously  worded  and  very 


774 


World  Revolution. 


[Dec. 


variously  interpreted  by  devout 
Marxians,  is  yet  proclaimed  to 
be  "  the  Bible  of  the  Working 
Classes,"  it  would  seem  desir- 
able to  have  some  idea  of  this 
important  personality.  As  de- 
scribed, then,  by  his  friend,  or 
at  least  congenial  spirit,  Bak- 
unin,  the  Eussian  Anarchist, 
writing  twenty-nine  years  after 
their  first  meeting,  says  : — 

"  Marx  and  I  are  old  ac- 
quaintances. I  met  him  for 
the  first  time  in  Paris  in  1844. 
.  .  .  We  were  rather  good 
friends.  He  was  much  more 
advanced  than  I  was,  as  to-day 
he  still  is — not  more  advanced 
but  incomparably  more  learned 
than  I  am.  I  knew  nothing 
then  of  political  economy,  I 
had  not  yet  got  rid  of  meta- 
physical abstractions,  and  my 
Socialism  was  only  that  of 
instinct.  He,  though  younger 
than  I,  was  already  an  atheist, 
a  learned  materialist,  and  a 
thoughtful  Socialist.  It  was 
precisely  at  this  epoch  that 
he  elaborated  the  first  founda- 
tions of  his  present  system. 
We  saw  each  other  fairly  often, 
for  I  respected  him  very  much 
for  his  knowledge  and  for  his 
devotion,  passionate  and  serious 
though  always  mingled  with 
personal  vanity,  to  the  cause  of 
the  proletariat;  and  I  eagerly 
sought  his  conversation,  which 
was  always  instructive  and 
witty  when  it  was  not  inspired 
by  petty  hatred,  which,  alas  ! 
occurred  too  frequently.  There 
was  never,  however,  any  frank 
intimacy  between  us.  Our 
temperaments  did  not  permit 
of  it.  He  called  me  a  senti- 
mental idealist,  and  he  was 


right.  I  called  him  a  vain 
man,  perfidious  and  crafty, 
and  I  was  right  also." 

But  the  violent  and  senti- 
mental Eussian  was  no  match 
for  the  shrewd  German  Jew. 
Bakunin  was  one  of  that  type 
so  common  in  Eussia,  so  be- 
wildering to  the  British  mind, 
a  professional  revolutionary — 
vain,  idle,  restless,  and  rash, 
breathing  eloquent  philan- 
thropy, and  utterly  ruthless 
at  heart.  Marx  was  not  idle 
or  restless  :  his  genius  lay  in 
making  use  of  other  men,  their 
money,  their  energies,  but  es- 
pecially their  brains.  Living 
safely  in  London,  supporting 
his  family  on  the  bounty  of 
one  Engels,  a  rich  manufac- 
turer, his  most  arduous  in- 
dustry was  in  the  reading- 
room  of  the  British  Museum, 
where  he  explored  the  remains 
and  compared  the  theories  of 
earlier  Socialists,  finally  evolv- 
ing his  own  much-vaunted 
system,  which  was  produced 
as  a  new  gospel  by  himself  12. 
the  guise  of  a  prophet.  But 
its  inspiration,  though  com- 
posite, was  second-hand.  Van- 
ity alone  prevented  his  acknow- 
ledging that  he  owed  his  doc- 
trine of  "  Labour  as  the  source 
of  all  wealth  "  to  early  English 
writers — to  Owen  among  others 
— that  his  theory  of  "  wage- 
slavery  "  was  current  during 
the  first  French  Eevolution, 
and,  like  his  attacks  on  re- 
ligion and  his  diatribes  against 
the  bourgeoisie  and  capitalists, 
was  all  familiar  ground  to  a 
generation  long  dead.  Still  less 
did  he  acknowledge  his  debt 
to  the  founder  of  the  Illumi- 


1921.] 


World  Revolution. 


775 


nati ;  but  nevertheless  the  doc- 
trines now  characterised  as 
Marxian  Socialism  are  identical 
with  those  laid  down  in  the 
code  of  Weishaupt — the  aboli- 
tion of  inheritance,  of  marriage 
and  the  family,  of  patriotism, 
of  all  religion;  the  institution 
of  the  community  of  women, 
and  the  commercial  education 
of  children  by  the  State. 

Meantime  the  rift  which  in 
our  own  era  has  opened  so 
widely  between  Socialist  and 
Anarchist  was  already  begin- 
ning ;  for  Bakunin,  the  idly- 
busy,  smoking,  tea  -  drinking 
Eussian,  had  conceived  the  idea 
"  of  Anarchy  as  a  permanent 
institution,  not  as  a  transitory 
period  necessary  to  traverse 
on  the  way  to  a  regenerated 
social  order."  In  conjunction 
with  Netchai'eff,  an  Illuminatus 
of  the  most  ferocious  kind,  he 
composed  a  '  Eevolutionary 
Catechism,'  in  which  it  was 
laid  down  that  "  every  effort 
is  to  be  made  to  heighten 
and  increase  the  evil  and  sor- 
rows which  will  at  length  wear 
out  the  patience  of  the  people 
and  encourage  an  insurrection 
en  masse."  As  Mrs  Webster 
remarks,  to  the  sane  mind  it 
is  almost  impossible  to  believe 
that  any  man  could  put  for- 
ward such  theories;  but  this 
is  precisely  the  advantage  ob- 
tained by  the  advocates  of 
world  revolution — their  doc- 
trines are  so  monstrous  that 
they  appear  unbelievable  to 
the  world  in  general.  But 
how  many  things  have  ap- 
peared incredible  in  the  past 
which  we  have  seen  and  are 
still  seeing  enacted  in  the 


present !  The  representatives 
of  these  men,  the  inheritors 
of  their  ideas,  are  in  our  midst 
to-day,  industriously  carrying 
on  their  work;  and  now,  even 
as  then,  their  cold  indifference 
to  the  welfare  of  the  labouring 
classes,  whom  they  profess  to 
befriend,  is  only  equalled  by 
their  jealousy  of  any  one  who 
attempts  to  infringe  on  their 
province  of  leaders.  What  did 
Bakunin  care  for  a  reform  so 
vast  and  far-reaching  in  its 
effects  as  the  emancipation 
of  the  Eussian  serfs  ?  As 
little  as  Marx  did  for  the  fate 
of  the  Working-men's  Associa- 
tion which  had  looked  to  him 
as  helper  and  organiser,  be- 
lieving him  sincere  in  his  pro- 
testation that  "  the  emancipa- 
tion of  the  working  classes  must 
be  brought  about  by  the  work- 
ing classes  themselves."  There 
is  something  pathetic  in  the 
account  of  the  bronze-workers 
of  Paris,  who  visited  London 
in  1864,  seeking  co-operation 
with  their  fellows  in  this 
country. 

"  They  talked  of  peace,  of 
study,  of  arrangement,  of  as- 
sociation. ...  A  better  know- 
ledge of  each  other,  a  more 
frequent  interchange  of  thought, 
a  clearer  view  of  the  great  laws 
which  govern  rise  and  fall  in 
wages,  and  a  means  of  stretch- 
ing friendly  hands  from  town 
to  town,  from  sea  to  sea,  in 
case  of  need, — these  are  the 
ends  we  have  in  view,  they 
urged,  not  secret  plots  and 
wine-shop  agitations." 

But,  says  their  historian, 
in  an  evil  hour  the  Paris 
bronziers  met  this  learned  and 


776 


World  Revolution. 


[Dec. 


unsmiling  Jew.  From  that 
hour  the  cause  of  the  workers 
was  lost. 

For  Marx,  of  course,  ap- 
plauded the  idea  of  the  Working- 
men's  Association,  but  without 
the  least  intention  of  helping 
them  to  peaceful  reform.  When 
the  hour  was  ripe  he  would 
know  how  to  convince  or  else 
coerce  them  into  adopting  vio- 
lent measures  for  the  redress 
of  social  evils.  The  French 
Internationale  was  founded 
thus,  not  with  subversive  or 
anti-religious  aims  on  the  part 
of  its  founders,  in  1864,  and 
without  any  secret  organisa- 
tion. But  at  every  successive 
meeting  of  the  Congress  it  be- 
came more  apparent  that  the 
aims  of  its  original  founders 
had  been  completely  lost  sight 
of.  The  working  men  vainly 
protested  against  the  invasion 
of  their  ranks  by  men  who 
were  not  manual  workers.  All 
the  secret  associations  of 
Europe — the  Italian  Carbonari, 
the  Irish  Fenians,  the  numerous 
secret  societies  of  Eussia  and 
Poland — were  attracted  to  the 
Internationale.  Atheists  and 
Anarchists  swelled  its  ranks, 
and  declaimed  against  religion 
and  civilisation.  From  the 
beginning  Marx  had  intended 
to  make  of  the  new  association 
an  instrument  for  his  own  pur- 
poses. The  French  working 
men  resisted  in  vain  the  preach- 
ing of  class  hatred,  and  the 
abolition  of  private  property 
in  land.  The  Internationale 
was  no  longer  a  working-man's 
society.  It  abandoned  all  dis- 
cussion of  conditions  of  labour, 


or  the  practical  problems  of 
industry,  and  became  simply 
an  engine  of  warfare  against 
civilisation.  In  the  fearful  days 
of  the  Paris  Commune  in  1871 
the  Internationale  was  active 
in  assistance  and  loud  in  ap- 
plause. It  had  passed  into  the 
hands  of  what  one  of  its  first 
members  described  as  "  the 
German  Jew  Company,"  the 
"  old  bureaucracy."  No  more 
Utopian  dreams  occupied  it. 
The  idea  of  a  fraternal  union 
between  the  workers  of  dif- 
ferent countries  was  secretly 
derided  by  Marx,  even  as  he 
derided  that  "  dictatorship  of 
the  proletariat "  which  was 
his  professed  aim. 

It  is  still  the  professed  aim 
of  our  contemporary  revolu- 
tionaries ;  and  in  spite  of  the 
number  of  Internationals  now 
in  existence,  the  exact  method 
of  realising  the  dictatorship  of 
the  proletariat  remains  unde- 
fined. Possibly  it  is  an  in- 
soluble problem. 

The  great  number  and  diver- 
sity of  the  Collectivists,  the 
Communists,  the  Syndicalists, 
the  Guild  Socialists,  the  Anar- 
chists, who  form  the  party  of 
revolution  in  Europe  to-day, 
is  confusing  to  the  mind  that 
attempts  to  classify  their  divi- 
sions, but  in  one  thing  they 
all  conform  to  the  likeness  of 
their  early  types,  in  jealousy 
of  each  other,  and  bitter  in- 
ternal dissensions.  It  is  Mrs 
Webster's  conviction  that  in 
another  point  they  resemble 
them :  in  being  really  directed, 
as  she  maintains,  by  that  secret 
conclave  whose  tools  they  are, 


1921.] 


World  Revolution, 


111 


though  they  do  not  know  it, 
the  inner  circle  of  the  Illumi- 
nati.  As  their  founder  origi- 
nally perceived,  "  the  great 
strength  of  our  Order  lies  in 
its  concealment.  Let  it  never 
appear  in  any  place  in  its 
own  name,  but  always  covered 
by  another  name  and  another 
occupation."  And  this  pre- 
cept of  the  founder  has  been 
religiously  observed  ;  for  since 
the  suppression  of  the  Order  in 
Bavaria,  every  effort  has  been 
made  to  persuade  the  world 
that  it  has  really  ceased  to  exist. 

It  exists,  notwithstanding, 
in  England  to-day,  directing 
the  energies  of  so-called  Trade 
Union  leaders,  controlling  the 
Press,  fomenting  industrial  dis- 
putes, inculcating  materialism 
and  anti-patriotism,  and  de- 
moralising the  children  who 
are  drawn  into  the  Socialist 
Sunday-schools.  It  exists  in 
Germany,  where  the  "  Sparta- 
cist  "  riots  must  have  recalled 
to  every  mind  that  Spartacus 
was  the  name  adopted  by 
Weishaupt.  Liebknecht  and 
Eosa  Luxembourg  were  both 
members  of  the  Order.  It 
exists  in  Ireland  under  the 
disguise  of  the  Irish  Eepublican 
Brotherhood,  and  works  in  con- 
junction with  that  portion  of 
the  Irish  hierarchy  which  has 
deliberately  chosen  an  unholy 
alliance,  and  with  the  Trans- 
port Union. 

In  Ireland  to-day  the  young 
men  and  lads  of  eighteen  are 
enlisted  in  the  ranks  of  a  cri- 
minal army.  They  are  forced 
to  spy  on  each  other,  to  pre- 
serve absolute  secrecy,  and 


obey  orders  for  murder,  in- 
cendiarism, or  any  crime.  The 
country  lies  in  a  condition 
which  almost  realises  the  dream 
of  an  Anarchist ;  and  to  crown 
the  helpless  misery  of  the 
inhabitants,  a  British  Premier 
presses  for  "  peace  "  with  the 
authors  of  the  whole  conspiracy 
of  crime,  and  assures  them  of 
his  anxiety  to  place  the  reins 
of  government  in  their  blood- 
stained hands.  Here  is  surely 
a  triumph  of  Illuminism.  Is 
it  possible  that  the  British 
public  will  awake  to  the  situa- 
tion before  it  is  too  late  ? 

Unfortunately  the  public  is 
tired  of  the  whole  subject  of 
Ireland.  Her  fictitious  wrongs 
and  cherished  grievances  have 
been  exploited  in  the  past  so 
unscrupulously  by  her  native 
politicians  that  the  present 
desperate  condition  of  the  whole 
terrorised  population  is  scarcely 
credited.  England  has  her  own 
perils  to  face,  and  her  domestic 
situation  in  the  coming  winter, 
with  ever-increasing  hordes  of 
the  unemployed  to  be  both 
provided  for  and  provided 
against,  is  likely  to  absorb  her 
whole  attention. 

She  is  not  so  blind  as  she 
has  been  in  the  past.  She 
knows  what  forces  are  arrayed 
against  her,  and  also  what 
combinations  have  been  formed 
to  disintegrate  her  defences. 
"  Forewarned  is  forearmed." 
It  was  not  an  Englishman, 
nor  yet  a  friend  of  England, 
but  a  very  astute  politician 
who  said :  "  England  is  the 
rock  on  which  revolutionary 
waves  are  broken  !  " 


778 


[Dec. 


AN  OUTLAW  OF  OLD   CEYLON. 


EECENTLY  I  was  going 
through  some  papers  of  a  great- 
uncle  of  mine  who  flourished 
in  Ceylon  in  the  middle  of 
last  century.  Amongst  other 
things  there  was  a  kind 
of  diary  which  had  several 
long  entries  referring  to  one 
M'Hasting—"  that  swine  M'H." 
was  the  usual  term.  I  was 
interested  and  made  inquiries 
about  him,  and  from  the  in- 
formation I  got  I  have  made 
the  following  story. 

Angus  M'Hasting  was  a  re- 
grettable character.  He  landed 
in  Ceylon  towards  the  end  of 
the  first  half  of  last  century, 
with  no  past  history  that  he 
would  talk  about,  very  little 
money,  and  no  morals.  He 
at  once  set  about  rectifying  the 
second  point,  but  his  history 
still  remained  vague,  and  his 
morals,  if  possible,  got  worse 
as  his  prosperity  increased. 
He  eventually  acquired  land 
in  the  district  of  Panwatte — 
"  acquired  "  is  the  word.  He 
certainly  did  not  buy  it  in 
the  ordinary  way,  nor  could 
any  one  say  he  had  stolen  it : 
he  was  just  found  to  be  in 
undisputed  possession  of  it. 
He  opened  up  his  land  in 
coffee,  and  continued  to  pros- 
per. He  was  a  little  in- 
significant man,  very  Scotch. 
Three  entries  from  my  uncle's 
diary  will  help  to  describe 
him.  Writing  of  a  visit  to 
Kandy,  my  uncle  mention 


him  for  the  first  time.  He 
says  : — 

"  I  met  M'Hasting  at  the 
hotel.  Don't  think  much  of 
him,  though  he  holds  more 
liquor  than  any  man  I  have  ever 
met,  and  apparently  can't  get 
drunk.  He  is  a  wonder  for 
blowing  his  own  trumpet,  and 
we  got  rather  tired  of  the 
wonders  he  had  done  or  could 
do ;  but  he  certainly  made 
good  one  boast.  He  said  he 
would  go  home  by  the  Devilla 
Ford,  though  the  river  was 
brimful  and  running  like  a 
mill-race.  We  all  went  out 
to  see  him  drowned,  but  he  did 
it.  It  was  a  very  close  thing, 
but  he  got  across.  He  is  full 
of  pluck,  but  a  nasty,  mean 
little  devil.  ..." 

A  later  entry,  after  referring 
to  unrest  among  the  villagers, 
goes  on  : — 

"That  swine  M'H.  had  a 
bad  row  with  a  nasty  crowd 
of  Cingalese  last  week.  They 
came  to  his  bungalow  at  night, 
and  meant  bad  business ;  but 
he  went  for  them  with  a 
crowbar,  and  laid  out  the 
leaders,  and  the  rest  bolted. 
He  is  remarkably  well  hated 
by  the  villagers,  and  I  expect 
with  good  reason,  if  there  is 
any  truth  in  the  stories  of  how 
he  gets  their  land.  ..." 

At  this  time  the  planting 
industry  was  in  its  infancy, 
and  the  few  planters  lived 
very  isolated  lives,  with  no 
public  opinion  to  control  them, 


1921.] 


An  Outlaw  of  Old  Ceylon. 


779 


and  very  little  interference  from 
the  Government ;  with  the  re- 
sult that  a  bad  hat  could  cheat 
the  thriftless  lazy  natives  in 
many  ways.  And  our  friend 
Angus  knew  all  the  ways. 

Another  extract  from  the 
diary  is  worth  reproducing, 
as  it  introduces  two  names 
which  had  a  good  deal  to  do 
with  M'Hasting's  subsequent 
history.  One  of  them,  Hender- 
son, was  a  Government  official, 
and  an  excellent  specimen  of 
the  old-time  civil  servant,  who 
thoroughly  understood  the  art 
of  governing  natives  :  that  art 
that  can  never  be  successfully 
practised  by  any  one  who  sits 
in  an  office  and  is  controlled 
by  "the  Eegulations,"  however 
good,  but  only  by  an  active 
man  who  has  an  intimate 
and  personal  knowledge  of 
the  governed.  The  Eatwella 
Lakkum,  Appoo  Singhe,  a 
petty  headman  of  the  Pan- 
watte  district,  and  far  and 
away  the  richest  and  most 
influential  native  in  M'Hast- 
ing's neighbourhood,  was  a 
splendid  type  of  Cingalese  chief 
in  rather  a  small  way.  A 
fine  old  man  and  a  great 
friend  of  Henderson's,  he  had 
done  all  in  his  power  to  save 
the  villagers  from  Angus 's 
tricks,  and  had  on  several 
occasions  been  able  to  upset 
the  Scotchman's  little  games. 
After  this  explanation  let  us 
return  to  the  diary. 

"  Stayed  with  Henderson  this 
week-end.  He  is  going  on 
leave  next  month.  He  is  most 
gloomy  about  things,  and  says 
the  natives  are  being  stirred 

VOL.    COX. — NO.   MCCLXXIV. 


up  by  their  priests  to  make 
trouble.  He  maintains  that 
they  have  many  real  grievances, 
both  against  the  Government 
and  the  planters,  some  of  whom 
are  absolutely  unscrupulous  as 
to  how  they  cheat  them  out 
of  their  land.  He  mentioned 
that  swine  M'H.  as  a  really 
bad  case :  the  Eatwella  Lak- 
kum has  given  him  some  very 
full  details  of  that  man's  deal- 
ings with  the  villagers,  and  it 
is  a  pretty  black  story.  Hen- 
derson said  outright  that  he 
believes  that  the  natives  will 
rise,  and  that  M'H.  will  be  one 
of  the  first  to  be  murdered, 
and  that  he  will  richly  deserve 
it.  .  .  ." 

The  rising  Henderson  fore- 
saw came  about  before  he 
reached  England,  and  the  rebels 
did  their  best  to  see  that  the 
second  part  of  his  prophecy 
should  also  be  fulfilled ;  but 
in  this  they  failed.  M'Hasting 
had  been  expecting  trouble 
for  some  time,  and  had  made 
his  preparations.  What  little 
of  value  he  usually  kept  in 
his  bungalow  he  had  sent  in 
to  Kandy  for  safety.  He  also 
bought  a  large  supply  of  white 
arsenic,  so  that  when  he  was 
warned  that  the  villagers  round 
him  were  coming  out — and  he 
was  warned  in  good  time  by 
the  Lakkum — he  had  merely 
to  mix  the  arsenic  with  all 
the  eatables  in  his  bungalow 
and  get  to  horse  and  away 
with  him.  None  but  a  fiend 
would  have  thought  of  the 
arsenic,  but  Angus  was  a  fiend. 
He  knew  his  bungalow  would 
be  looted ;  and  though  there 

2  F2 


780 


An  Outlaw  of  Old  Ceylon. 


[Dec. 


was  nothing  of  value  to  take, 
as  his  furniture  consisted  of 
the  barest  necessities,  yet  it 
was  a  sacred  principle  of  his 
that  no  one  should  take  any- 
thing from  him  without  paying 
heavily  for  it ;  and  his  poisoned 
food  would  make  him  quits 
with  those  who  were  driving 
him  out.  That  women  and 
children  would  also  certainly 
be  poisoned  did  not  worry  the 
little  blackguard  a  bit. 

The  rebellion  was  never  very 
dangerous  or  bloodthirsty. 
They  killed  no  one  as  far  as  I 
can  trace,  and  though  they 
captured  a  few  outlying  plant- 
ers, only  one  ran  any  severe 
risk.  He  was  an  unpopular 
man,  who  put  up  a  bit  of  a 
fight  before  he  was  secured, 
and  in  the  heat  of  the  moment 
he  was  very  nearly  knocked 
on  the  head.  One  of  his  cap- 
tors, a  late  carpenter  of  his, 
saved  him.  "  I  am  owed 
twenty  -  five  rupees  by  this 
man,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  not 
going  to  have  him  killed  till  he 
has  paid  me."  The  planter 
lived  to  discharge  his  debt. 

The  Cingalee  is  no  fighting 
man.  When  the  rebels  were 
met  on  the  road  to  Kandy  by 
a  native  regiment,  they  broke 
at  the  first  volley.  They  fled 
for  miles  hunted  by  the  troops, 
were  cut  down  in  scores,  and 
all  idea  of  rebellion  ceased  in 
Ceylon. 

The  Government  had  had  a 
bad  fright,  and  now  deter- 
mined to  teach  the  country 
the  penalty  of  rebellion.  Courts- 
martial  were  erected,  with 
orders  to  punish  heavily  and 


swiftly,  and  these  courts  had 
a  very  short  way  with  all  who 
had  taken  any  part  in  the 
rising. 

M'Hasting,  on  his  way  back 
to  his  estate,  saw  one  of 
these  courts  at  work,  and 
approved  of  it  heartily.  He 
had  always  despised  the  natives, 
and  now  that  he  had  had  to 
run  for  his  life  from  them  he 
hated  them  as  well.  On  his 
return  to  his  bungalow  he 
found  it,  of  course,  empty  of 
everything  ;  but  he  also  found 
one  Banda,  a  native  who  had 
acted  as  his  jackal,  and  who 
had  made  quite  a  good  thing 
out  of  it.  Banda  foresaw  very 
useful  pickings  for  himself  when 
his  master  should  come  back, 
for  with  many  of  the  men 
dead,  and  most  of  the  rest 
implicated  up  to  their  necks 
in  the  rising,  he  knew  that  a 
rich  harvest  was  waiting  for  a 
thoroughly  unscrupulous  man"; 
and  he  waited  impatiently  for 
that  man  to  return  and  the 
harvest  to  begin. 

M'Hasting's  first  move  was 
to  get  back  what  he  could 
of  his  furniture.  Most  of  it 
had  been  hurriedly  and  secretly 
placed  near  the  bungalow  by 
the  temporary  holders  on  hear- 
ing of  the  rightful  owner's 
return ;  but  some  was  missing, 
particularly  a  couch  of  which 
M'Hasting  was  fond,  as  he 
had  actually  paid  its  full  value 
for  it,  which  was  not  a  usual 
thing  for  him  to  do.  Banda's 
first  duty  was  to  find  where 
the  missing  furniture  was,  and 
the  next  morning  he  returned 
radiant. 


1921.] 


An  Outlaw  of  Old  Ceylon. 


781 


"  Master,  I  have  found  the 
couch,"  he  said  ;  "  it  is  in  the 
Lakkum's  house." 

"  But  you  told  me  that  the 
Lakkum  and  his  sons  tried  to 
stop  the  people  from  robbing 
my  bungalow,  and  that  they 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  rising,"  said  M'Hasting. 

"That  is  true,  master,  and 
they  also  sent  word  of  it  to 
the  Government,  but  the  people 
did  not  know  this  or  they 
would  have  killed  them.  The 
Lakkum's  youngest  son  saw 
the  bed  in  Appuhamy's  house, 
and  thinking  it  was  one  Appu- 
hamy  had  made — for  you  know 
he  was  a  carpenter — he  bought 
it,  not  knowing  it  came  from 
your  house,  and  it  is  in  the 
Lakkum's  house,  where  I  myself 
have  seen  it." 

Now  Angus  had  always  had 
a  grudge  against  the  Lakkum 
for  upsetting  some  of  his  ne- 
farious plans,  and  had  con- 
stantly been  on  the  look-out 
for  some  means  of  hurting 
him,  and,  if  possible,  removing 
him  from  the  district.  He 
now  saw  a  first-class  oppor- 
tunity for  doing  this ;  in 
fact,  of  getting  rid  of  the 
Lakkum  and  his  family  for 
ever.  That  he  almost  certainly 
owed  his  life  to/  his  intended 
victim's  action  in  warning  him 
of  the  rising  did  not  count  at 
all  with  him.  Gratitude  was  a 
thing  he  did  not  understand, 
particularly  when  it  stood  in 
the  way  of  his  getting  money 
or  revenge. 

This  was  just  the  chance 
that  was  wanted,  and  calling 
for  his  horse  and  buckling  on 


two  huge  horse-pistols,  M'Hast- 
ing rode  off,  followed  by  his 
two  Tamil  servants,  who  were, 
I  believe,  the  only  people  in 
the  world  who  liked  him.  They 
not  only  were  devoted  to  him, 
but  actually  respected  the  little 
scoundrel,  and  would,  and  pro- 
bably have,  followed  him  to 
hell. 

Arrived  at  the  Lakkum's 
house,  he  was  politely  greeted 
by  the  old  man  and  his  eldest 
son,  and  he  immediately  ac- 
cused them  of  leading  the 
looting  of  his  bungalow.  In 
spite  of  their  denials  he  in- 
sisted on  searching  the  house, 
and  of  course  at  once  found 
the  bed. 

"  If  you  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  robbery  of  my  things," 
he  said,  "  how  have  you  got 
my  bed  in  your  house  ?  I 
know  you  were  always  the 
head  of  all  the  mischief  in 
the  district." 

"  Master,"  said  the  aston- 
ished Lakkum,  "  that  bed  was 
bought  by  my  other  son,  who 
is  away  from  home,  from  Appu- 
hamy  the  carpenter's  wife, 
who  told  him  her  husband  had 
just  made  it." 

"  Where  is  Appuhamy  ?  " 

"  He  was  killed  by  the  sol- 
diers, master,  and  his  wife 
died  after  eating  food  stolen 
from  your  bungalow." 

"  You  are  a  liar  and  a  thief 
and  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  ris- 
ing, and  I  am  taking  you  and 
your  son  now  to  the  court." 

And  take  him  he  did,  the 
two  men  tied  together  in  front, 
and  he  following  on  his  horse, 
pistol  in  hand. 


782 


An  Outlaw  of  Old  Ceylon. 


[Dec. 


Let  us  hurry  over  the  next 
scenes.  They  are  not  nice  to 
any  one  who  knows  of  the 
wonderful  fairness  and  mild- 
ness of  British  rule.  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  the  court- 
martial  had  orders  to  punish 
heavily  and  quickly,  that 
M'Hasting  and  Banda  gave 
the  most  damning  evidence, 
and  that  by  the  time  the 
triumphant  murderer  was  back 
in  his  bungalow  his  victims 
had  faced  the  firing  party. 

M'Hasting  was  jubilant,  and 
now  settled  down  to  enjoy 
himself.  He  first  searched  the 
Lakkum's  house  "  for  concealed 
arms,"  as  he  gave  out :  actually 
for  the  dead  man's  money, 
which  he  found  buried  in  the 
floor,  a  very  useful  little  hoard. 
The  villagers,  terrified  and  suf- 
fering from  bad  consciences, 
had  only  to  be  threatened  by 
the  Lakkum's  fate  to  meet  any 
demand  made  on  them,  and 
what  with  money,  goods,  and 
land,  M'Hasting  soon  possessed 
most  of  the  resources  of  his 
immediate  district. 

But  he  had  made  a  bad 
mistake,  to  which  he  was  shortly 
to  add  another.  His  first  mis- 
take was  the  killing  of  the 
Lakkum ;  his  second  was  to 
quarrel  with  Banda.  The  quar- 
rel began  over  the  spoil.  Banda 
was  not  satisfied  with  his  share, 
and  even  when  after  much 
haggling  it  was  increased  he 
still  felt  defrauded.  It  con- 
tinued over  Banda's  wife — the 
details  do  not  matter;  and  it 
finished  up  by  an  imperial 
flogging  of  Banda  by  a  drunken 
and  furious  M'Hasting.  Banda 


crept  away  with  his  whole 
being  full  of  aches  and  intense 
hatred  of  his  master.  Natu- 
rally he  first  tried  poison,  but 
M'Hasting's  servants  were  in- 
corruptible on  that  point,  as 
many  a  vengeful  Cingalee  had 
found  before  him.  In  fact  if, 
for  some  unaccountable  reason, 
these  two  Tamils  had  not  been 
absolutely  devoted  to  their 
master,  they  would  long  ago 
have  retired  to  India  with  a 
nice  little  pouchful  of  rupees, 
and  M'Hasting  would  have 
died  of  red-hot  pains  of  the 
insides.  As  it  was,  Banda  had 
to  try  other  means ;  and  while 
he  was  screwing  himself  up  to 
trying  the  chance  of  a  shot 
from  a  gas-pipe  gun,  the  result 
of  his  enemy's  first  mistake 
gave  him  the  opportunity  for 
a  much  safer  revenge. 

The  Government's  actions 
were  not  approved  of  by  the 
general  European  community, 
if  one  may  judge  by  the  sul- 
phurous entries  in  the  diary. 
Uncle  Eoberts  was  a  pretty 
swearer,  one  gathers,  and  his 
comments  on  the  suppression 
of  the  riots  are  forcible  and 
interesting  but  quite  unprint- 
able ;  and  when  he  mentions 
our  villainous  Scotch  friend, 
he  reaches  a  height  of  invective 
that  makes  the  old  Ulster 
Orange  toast  seem  like  a  bless- 
ing. 

Helped  by  vigorously  ex- 
pressed public  opinion,  and  by 
admonitions  from  home,  the 
Government  recovered  its  nerve 
and  began  to  feel  a  bit  ashamed 
of  itself.  It  first  dissolved  the 
courts-martial  and  proclaimed 


1921.] 


An  Outlaw  of  Old  Ceylon. 


783 


a  general  amnesty ;  and  then, 
like  all  Governments,  started 
to  look  around  for  a  scape- 
goat. It  had  not  far  to  look. 

The  Lakkum's  youngest  son, 
James,  had  been  away  when 
his  father  was  seized,  and  on 
hearing  of  his  execution  had 
gone  into  hiding ;  but  when 
the  general  amnesty  was  pro- 
claimed he  reappeared,  and 
began  to  look  about  for  a  way 
of  revenge  on  his  father's  mur- 
derer. Being  a  Cingalee,  he 
first  tried  to  think  of  a  way 
by  which  he  could  procure  a 
violent  end  for  his  enemy 
without  risking  his  own  neck, 
but  found  that  M 'Hasting  was 
much  too  careful  to  give  him 
a  chance.  Just  as  he  was 
giving  up  all  hope,  he  heard 
that  Henderson  had  returned 
from  leave,  and  at  once  went 
to  him  and  told  him  the  whole 
story.  The  effect  on  Hender- 
son was  what  one  would  expect, 
and  he  promised  to  help  to 
his  utmost ;  but  before  he  could 
do  anything  he  wanted  more 
evidence.  This  James  prom- 
ised to  get,  and  returned  to 
his  village,  feeling  that  at  last 
he  would  get  even.  And  then 
came  another  disappointment : 
the  villagers  were  too  cowed  to 
help  him.  "  We  will  not  go 
to  court  to  swear  against  him," 
they  said.  "  We  have  bought 
our  safety,  and  are  now  left 
alone.  If  we  give  evidence 
against  him  the  court  will  not 
believe  us,  and  he  and  Banda 
will  swear  our  lives  away  as 
they  did  to  your  father  and 
brother.  We  are  poor  men, 
and  will  not  be  mixed  up  in  any 


more  trouble."  It  was  in  vain 
that  James  appealed  in  turn  to 
their  hatred,  love  of  revenge, 
and  cupidity.  Neither  elo- 
quence nor  bribery  could  over- 
come their  fear  of  M'Hasting, 
and,  thoroughly  disheartened, 
he  was  resigning  himself  to 
reporting  failure  to  Henderson 
when  the  game  was  placed  in 
his  hands  by  his  enemy's  own 
act  in  thrashing  Banda.  Banda, 
of  course,  soon  heard  of  James's 
efforts  to  get  evidence,  and 
after  he  found  that  he  could 
not  get  square  by  his  own 
efforts,  he  decided  to  combine 
forces  with  his  victim's  son. 

James  Singho  was  at  first 
very  suspicious  of  Banda's  ad- 
vances. 

"  How  can  I  trust  you,"  he 
said,  "  you  who  were  one  of 
my  father's  murderers  ?  " 

"  Look  at  me,"  said  Banda. 
"  Look  at  these  cuts  and  bruises. 
See  how  I  have  been  beaten. 
How  should  I  not  want  revenge 
on  the  man  who  did  this  to 
me?  " 

"I  see  them,  but  still  it 
may  be  a  trick.  M'Hasting 
is  very  cunning,  and  you  may 
be  sent  to  get  me  into  trouble 
with  Henderson  by  giving 
wrong  evidence.  How  can  I 
believe  you  when  all  my  trou- 
bles are  due  to  you  ?  You 
have  made  all  you  have  by 
helping  that  man,  and  now  you 
say  you  want  to  ruin  him. 
What  pledges  will  you  give  me 
that  I  can  trust  you  ?  " 

The  more  James  doubted, 
the  more  vehement  Banda  be- 
came. His  whole  mind  was 
concentrated  on  revenge. 


784 


An  Outlaw  of  Old  Ceylon. 


[Dec. 


"  How  can  I  make  you  trust 
me,  James  Singho  ?  I  have 
been  cheated  out  of  my  money. 
I  have  been  beaten,  and  now 
he  has  taken  my  wife  from  me. 
Why  should  I  not  hate  him  ? 
My  hatred  is  stronger  than 
yours,  and  I  will  punish  him 
by  myself  if  you  won't  help." 

At  last  he  managed  to  con- 
vince James  of  his  honesty  in 
hatred,  and  Henderson  soon 
had  all  the  evidence  he  wanted 
to  obtain  a  warrant.  Things 
moved  rapidly — but  not  quite 
rapidly  enough. 

M 'Hasting  was  a  little  un- 
easy when  he  heard  of  James 
Singho 's  reappearance.  When 
he  heard  that  he  was  trying  to 
collect  evidence,  he  saw  that 
he  must  take  steps.  A  few 
discreet  threats  among  the  vil- 
lagers frightened  them  into 
silence,  as  we  have  seen  ;  and 
a  little  money  and  many  pro- 
mises soon  got  him  interested 
friends  among  the  local  Govern- 
ment officials,  and  particularly 
the  police.  For  a  time  he 
hoped  he  was  safe,  till  one  of 
his  servants  came  in  one  day 
with  the  news  that  Banda  and 
James  had  gone  together  to 
Kandy  to  see  Henderson. 
Angus  decided  it  was  time  to 
vanish.  Most  of  his  money 
was  in  hard  cash,  but  some 
of  it  took  a  few  days  to  realise, 
and  he  decided  to  risk  waiting 
for  it;  with  the  result  that  on 
the  evening  before  the  day  on 
which  he  was  going  to  do  his 
disappearing  act,  a  messenger 
from  a  bought  policeman  ar- 
rived with  the  news  that  two 
European  police  sergeants  with 


a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  one 
"  Angus  M 'Hasting  "  would  be 
at  the  bungalow  within  the 
hour.  There  was  only  one 
thing  to  be  done,  and  that  was 
to  take  to  the  jungle  ;  so  when 
the  police  arrived  M'Hasting 
and  his  two  servants  had  van- 
ished, and  the  villagers,  still 
cowed,  and  fearing  that  he 
might  return,  stoutly  main- 
tained that  they  had  seen 
nothing  of  him. 

Our  villain  now  started  on  a 
strange  existence.  He  had  no 
fixed  centre,  but  wandered  in 
the  jungle  near  the  scattered 
estates  of  Europeans ;  and 
when  the  weather  or  lack  of 
food,  or  more  particularly  drink, 
made  jungle  life  unbearable 
for  him,  he  would  turn  up  at 
some  estate  bungalow  and  ask 
for  shelter ;  and  he  always 
got  it.  It  is  rather  hard  to 
explain  why  he  was  always 
received  by  any  planter  he 
called  on,  for  the  planters  in 
general  condemned  his  actions 
most  thoroughly,  and  had  no 
sympathy  whatsoever  for  him  ; 
but  they  were  not  great  ad- 
mirers of  the  law,  and  more 
especially,  I  think,  they  felt  it 
would  be  bad  for  the  prestige 
of  the  white  man  for  one  of 
their  number  to  be  imprisoned 
or  perhaps  hanged.  Anyway, 
whatever  the  reasons,  M'Hast- 
ing had  only  to  present  himself 
at  a  bungalow  and  he  was  not 
welcomed,  but  at  any  rate 
allowed  to  make  himself  at 
home ;  and  the  fact  that  he 
never  stayed  more  than  a  few 
days  at  any  one  bungalow  was 
due  to  his  own  unpleasant 


1921.] 


An  Outlaw  of  Old  Ceylon. 


785 


self,  as,  apparently,  no  one 
could  put  up  with  him  for 
long.  My  uncle's  feelings  in 
the  matter  are  very  clear.  He 
had  to  put  him  up  once  for 
three  or  four  days,  and  this  is 
what  he  says  about  it  (I  have 
had  to  tone  his  remarks  down 
a  bit)  :— 

"  On  my  return  (from  Kandy) 
I  found  that  damned  swine 
M'H.  had  come  into  me  for 
shelter.  As  it  was  raining  hard 
I  could  not  turn  him  out. 
He  has  grown  a  beard,  and  is 
even  dirtier,  if  possible,  than 
he  used  to  be,  and  his  manners 
are  simply  bestial.  He  wal- 
lowed in  my  whisky,  and  tried 
to  make  out  what  a  martyr  he 
was.  As  soon  as  the  weather 
improved  I  drove  the  filthy 
blackguard  out,  but  that  was 
not  for  four  days.  He  com- 
plained that  no  one  would 
keep  him  for  long  except  Tay- 
lor, and  that  Taylor  made  him 
pay  for  his  board,  and  extra 
for  whisky.  That  is  just  like 
him,  but  I  bet  M'H.  drinks 
more  whisky  than  he  pays  for. 
On  the  day  he  left  he  started 
cursing  the  life  he  led,  and 
swore  he  would  go  into  Kandy 
soon  and  have  "  one  good 
Christian  drunk,"  as  he  put 
it,  in  spite  of  all  the  police  in 
the  country.  It's  the  sort  of 
damned  foolhardy  thing  he 
would  do.  .  .  ." 

And  that  is  just  what  he 
did  do. 

On  a  pouring  wet  monsoon 
evening  young  Johnson,  a 
rather  raw  police  officer  who 
had  been  left  temporarily  in 


charge  at  Kandy,  walked  up 
the  steps  of  the  hotel,  and 
went  to  the  bar  in  search  of 
a  badly-needed  drink.  He  had 
had  a  very  hard  day,  and  was 
tired  and  excited.  The  bar 
was  empty,  except  for  a  little 
bearded  man,  who  greeted 
Johnson  as  though  he  was 
his  dearest  friend  instead  of 
a  complete  stranger. 

"Thank  God,"  he  said, 
"there  is  at  least  one  man 
left  in  this  blasted  place.  I 
have  been  waiting  for  some 
one  to  drink  with  for  an  hour, 
and  not  a  soul  has  been  in." 

Though  the  policeman  did 
not  like  his  looks  much,  he 
soon  found  that  the  stranger 
was  not  going  to  let  him  go 
unless  he  found  some  one  else 
to  talk  to.  The  bearded  one 
was  apparently  called  Peter- 
son, and  had  ridden  in  from 
some  distant  estate  for  the 
express  purpose  of  drinking 
in  company  ;  and  as  Johnson 
was  the  only  company  avail- 
able, he  had  to  help  to  satisfy 
this  more  or  less  laudable 
ambition.  Now  he  was  young, 
and  had  a  poor  head  for  drink 
— that  is,  two  or  three  drinks 
made  him  talkative — and,  as 
I  have  said,  he  was  excited. 
It  was  not  long  before  he  felt 
he  had  to  tell  some  one  the 
cause  of  his  excitement,  so 
suddenly  he  burst  out  with — 

"Do  you  know  that  that 
fellow  M'Hasting  is  in  Kandy?" 

"  What !  "  Peterson  jumped 
to  his  feet,  upsetting  his  glass, 
and  stared  for  a  moment  at 
the  policeman  with  an  extra- 
ordinary expression. 


786 


An  Outlaw  of  Old  Ceylon. 


[Dec. 


"  What  on  earth  is  the  mat- 
ter ?  "  said  Johnson.  "  Surely 
you  are  not  a  friend  of  that 
man's  ?  " 

Peterson  sat  down  again 
slowly,  and  called  for  another 
drink  before  answering. 

"  A  friend  of  his,"  he  said. 
"  Well,  no.  He  borrowed 
money  from  me  and  never 
paid  me  back.  He  sold  me 
a  horse  that  was  all  wrong. 
He  has  done  me  down  when- 
ever I  have  had  anything  to 
do  with  him,  and  I  would  give 
anything  to  get  even  with 
him.  Look  here,  let  me  help 
you  catch  him.  He  won't 
get  away  if  I  get  a  sight  of 
him.  Are  you  sure  he  is  here, 
and  how  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  he  is  here  all  right. 
A  Cingalee  called  Banda  who 
has  a  grudge  against  him  told 
me  he  was  coming  in  to-day." 

"Banda;  ah  yes,  Banda;" 
Peterson  repeated  the  name 
thoughtfully.  "  But  how  did 
Banda  know  ?  " 

"  M'Hasting  has  apparently 
been  hiding  with  a  man  called 
Taylor,  and  Taylor's  boy  is 
some  relation  of  Banda's.  Well, 
the  boy  heard  M'Hasting  ask 
for  the  loan  of  Taylor's  horse, 
as  he  meant  to  come  into 
Kandy  to-day,  and  there  was  a 
fine  old  row  about  it,  as  Taylor 
wanted  M'Hasting  to  pay  for  the 
hire  of  it.  Anyway,  M'Hasting 
rode  off  on  it  this  morning,  and 
Banda's  cousin  sent  him  word, 
and  he  told  me." 

"  That  does  not  prove  that 
he  did  come  here ;  he  may 
have  ridden  off  anywhere." 

"  Oh  no  ;    one  of  my  con- 


stables saw  a  man  riding  into 
the  town  a  couple  of  hours 
ago  on  Taylor's  horse,  which 
he  knows.  It's  a  skewbald 
and  easy  to  spot,  but  he  did 
not  recognise  the  rider." 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going 
to  do  about  it  f  "  Peterson 
asked.  "  You  can  hardly  search 
the  whole  town  for  him." 

"  For  to-night  I  have  placed 
parties  of  my  men  on  every 
road  and  bridle-path  leading 
from  the  town,  and  they  will 
hold  up  any  one  riding  a 
skewbald  horse  or  who  answers 
to  M'Hasting's  description.  Ac- 
cording to  Banda's  information, 
he  meant  to  leave  the  town 
again  to-night.  I  think  he 
only  came  in  in  a  spirit  of 
bravado,  but  he  won't  get 
out,  I'll  see  to  that.  I'll  catch 
him  all  right." 

Peterson  had  been  getting 
steadily  more  and  more  ex- 
cited. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "I 
am  going  to  stay  with  you  on 
this  hunt.  Are  you  sure  all 
the  roads  are  guarded  ?  What 
about  the  Devilla  Ford  ?  " 

"  Good  Lord,  man,"  said 
Johnson,  "  no  one  can  cross 
that  way.  Why,  the  river  is 
bank-high,  and  running  at  an 
appalling  pace !  I  have  not 
wasted  any  men  there." 

"  Well,  I  would  if  I  were 
you ;  in  fact,  you  must.  I 
saw  M'Hasting  cross  there  once 
when  the  river  was  quite  as 
bad  as  it  is  now,  and  if  he  gets 
any  idea  you  are  after  him  he 
will  try  that  way." 

The  policeman  was  rather 
concerned.  "  Do  you  really 


1921.] 


An  Outlaw  of  Old  Ceylon. 


787 


think  he  would  try  ?  In  that 
case  perhaps  I  had  better  send 
a  party  off ;  but  it  will  be 
half  an  hour  or  more  before 
they  get  there.  I  hope  he  has 
not  got  frightened  and  slipped 
out  already." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do," 
said  Peterson.  "  While  you 
go  and  get  your  party  I  will 
ride  out  at  once  and  hold  the 
ford  till  your  men  come  on. 
I'll  guarantee  M 'Hasting  won't 
get  past  me." 

And  so  it  was  settled.  John- 
son sent  round  to  his  stables 
for  his  horse,  while  Peterson 
went  and  got  his  himself.  While 
waiting  for  his  horse  Johnson 
strolled  to  the  hotel  entrance. 
It  was  dark  by  now,  and  still 
pouring  rain,  but  the  lamps 
in  front  of  the  hotel  lit  up  the 
roadway.  He  was  looking  up 
the  road  when  he  heard  a 
horse  being  ridden  behind  him, 
and  turning  round  he  got  the 
shock  of  his  young  life,  for 
there,  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  lamp-lit  road,  was  a 
skewbald  horse — in  fact,  Tay- 
lor's horse  without  a  doubt, — 
and  the  man  on  it  must  be 
M 'Hasting.  For  a  moment  he 
stood  gasping,  and  then  he 


saw  that  the  horseman  was 
Peterson,  and  the  voice  when 
the  horseman  spoke  was  Peter- 
son's, but  what  he  said  was — 

"  Well,  good-bye,  Johnson. 
Thanks  for  all  your  informa- 
tion. It  is  very  useful  to  me, 
because  you  see  my  name  is 
M'Hasting." 

And  a  stupefied  policeman 
was  left  gazing  into  the  night, 
listening  to  a  horse's  hoof- 
beats  dying  away  along  the 
road  to  the  Devilla  Ford. 

That  is  the  last  authentic 
information  I  have  of  M'Hast- 
ing. His,  or  rather  Taylor's, 
horse  was  found  the  next  day 
exhausted  and  badly  knocked 
about  on  the  river  bank  some 
way  down-stream  from  Kandy, 
but  not  a  sign,  dead  or  alive, 
of  the  rider.  The  general  idea 
was,  of  course,  that  he  was 
drowned,  and  a  damned  good 
riddance  too  ;  but  there  were 
some,  my  uncle  among  them, 
who  said,  "  It  would  take  more 
than  a  little  water  to  kill  a 
blackguard  like  that.  He  has 
probably  slipped  out  of  the 
island  somehow.  Any  way, 
we  are  clear  of  him,  for  which 
thank  God !  " 

JASPER  MARTIN. 


788 


[Dec. 


HEATHEB   MIXTUEB. 


BY   KLAXON. 


CHAPTER  VH. 


DINNER  over,  the  Moordyke 
party  entrenched  themselves  in 
the  big  arm-chairs  in  the  smok- 
ing-room, and  for  half  an  hour 
there  was  little  conversation, 
but  a  considerable  amount  of 
heavy  breathing.  Dicky,  for 
one,  felt  rather  overfed  and 
very  sleepy.  Then  gradually 
energy  was  awakened,  and  the 
talk  began.  It  started  with 
guns,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
room  rang  with  the  names  of 
their  makers  (the  gun-makers, 
that  is).  Argument  changed 
to  illustration,  and  out  came 
the  gun-cases.  The  room  was 
full  of  guns,  and  some  of  them 
were  really  beautiful  specimens ; 
others  were  old  and  trusted 
friends  of  no  honoured  pedi- 
gree, yet  which  had  probably 
done  just  as  good  execution 
as  their  expensive  companions. 
The  show  lasted  a  good  half- 
hour,  and  then  there  was  a 
calm  interval  while  every  one 
sat  down  again  and  gently 
rubbed  and  polished  the  finger- 
marks from  the  precious  barrels. 
The  conversation  naturally 
swung  to  the  merits  of  different 
cartridges,  loads  and  sizes  of 
shot,  types  and  loads  of  powder. 
"  Always  use  sevens  in  August 
and  September  and  sixes  the 
rest  of  the  season."  "No, 


sevens  —  just  an  ounce  —  for 
driven  birds  all  the  season,  and 
fives  for  rabbits  and  walked-up 
partridges.  You  must  use  fives 
to  kill  'em  tail-on."  "  You  can 
kill  anything  with  sevens  if 
you  hold  straight."  "  A  fiver 
you  have  more  runners  than 
me  to-morrow,  then — and  I'll 
use  sixes  " — and  so  on.  Dicky 
joined  in  the  argument  occa- 
sionally, but  was  on  the  whole 
content  to  listen.  These  men 
knew  their  subject  all  right, 
and  it  was  evident  that  they 
each  used  a  great  many  more 
cartridges  in  a  season  than  he 
did  in  two.  As  for  their  know- 
ledge of  guns,  at  least  three 
of  them  had  been  to  the  Lon- 
don factories  to  see  their  own 
weapons  made  from  start  to 
finish,  and  the  lordly  London 
makers  had  apparently  not 
objected  to  this  personal  super- 
vision. Dicky  felt  he  would 
never  have  had  the  courage 
to  do  such  a  thing,  but  these 
queer  people  apparently  took 
nobody's  reputation  on  trust  : 
they  would  have,  in  all  pro- 
bability, done  the  same  with 
Joe  Manton  himself  had  they 
been  his  contemporaries. 

The  cartridge  argument  died 
down  and  shooting  stories  be- 
gan. Shooting  stories  are  usu- 


Copyrighted  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


789 


ally  much  the  same  everywhere 
— when  you've  doubted  one 
you've  doubted  the  lot, — but 
some  of  the  facts  that  came  out 
as  to  bags  of  grouse  on  the 
famous  Wemmergill  and  Bolton 
Abbey  moors  made  Dicky  gasp. 
Then  came  stories  of  shooting 
prowess,  and  Dicky  began  to 
have  qualms.  Some  of  the 
figures  certainly  appeared 
strained.  The  limit  seemed  to 
be  reached  when  he  was  told 
that  Astley  had,  two  seasons 
before,  killed  forty-two  grouse 
with  forty-six  cartridges  in  one 
drive.  He  was  later  to  dis- 
cover, from  confirmatory  evi- 
dence, that  this  was  true.  Then 
came  talk  of  freaks  and  queer 
chances — of  falling  grouse  that 
impaled  themselves  on  gun- 
barrels,  that  burst  open  when 
they  fell  on  burnt  heather,  that 
struck  shooters  or  loaders  and 
knocked  them  unconscious  ;  of 
shot-pellets  that  deflected  from 
oncoming  grouse  or  from  wet 
heather ;  of  birds  killed  at 
seventy-eight  yards ;  of  six 
killed  with  one  shot — and  then 
the  exaggeration  began.  A 
pheasant  and  a  grouse  in  one 
shot,  ten  redshank  with  one 
barrel  of  number  fours  (by  the 
way,  this  was  nearly  true),  a 
partridge  and  a  trout  in  a  right 
and  left  (this  wasn't),  and  so 
on.  Dicky  was  quite  inured 
to  wardroom  leg-pulling,  and 
was  therefore  able  to  keep  up 
a  look  of  deep  and  serious 
interest,  while  Bates  (the  capita- 
list), talking  not  to,  but  cer- 
tainly at  him,  recounted  an 
incident  he  had  experienced 
near  Scarborough,  when,  in 


firing  at  a  covey  of  partridges, 
he  had  taken  a  tremendous 
kick  from  his  gun  and  been 
nearly  knocked  over.  On  open- 
ing the  weapon,  he  had  to  his 
surprise  found  that  only  the 
brass  base  ejected.  Appar- 
ently the  whole  cartridge,  paper 
and  all,  had  parted  company 
from  its  support  and  gone 
away  like  a  solid  bullet.  To 
his  still  greater  surprise,  he 
found  that  the  missile  had 
decapitated  two  partridges  from 
the  covey,  and,  after  cutting  a 
groove  in  the  bark  of  an  adja- 
cent beech-tree,  had  killed  a 
sheep  one  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  up  the  hillside.  The 
narrator  could  recall  the  facts 
that  it  had  happened  at  three 
P.M.  or  a  little  after,  and  that 
it  was  a  very  hot  day  in 
October.  In  fact,  he  remem- 
bered the  walk  up  to  the  sheep 
(when  pacing  the  distance)  as 
if  it  had  happened  yesterday, 
owing  to  the  oppressive  warmth 
of  the  sun. 

Dicky  registered  wide-eyed 
interest  and  attention,  asking 
several  details  in  order  to  be 
able  to  better  remember  the 
tale.  He  then,  after  a  remark 
on  the  strange  things  one  must 
meet  if  one  shoots  long  enough, 
described  an  interesting  visit 
he  had  made  to  Sugar-loaf 
Island  in  the  South  Seas — a 
little  south  and  west  of  Earo- 
tonga  and  two  hundred  and 
seventy  miles  east  of  Advent 
Island  in  the  Paumotus  (there's 
no  need  to  look  that  up  on  the 
chart).  Apparently  it  had  been 
for  many  years  the  custom  for 
one  of  H.M.  ships  to  visit  the 


790 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Dec. 


island  biennially  in  order  to 
shoot  some  of  the  goats  which 
there  abounded,  and  Dicky  had 
been  fortunate  enough,  the  war 
having  disturbed  the  sequence 
of  routine  visits,  to  be  aboard 
the  vessel  which  had  called 
there  in  1919  in  order  to  reduce 
the  excess  of  wild  life  resulting 
from  six  years  of  undisturbed 
breeding.  It  appeared  that  the 
island  in  no  way  belied  its 
name,  being  of  a  steep  cone 
formation,  and  entirely  covered 
with  grass,  and,  of  course, 
goats.  These  latter,  being  in- 
digenous, and  having  adapted 
themselves  to  their  locality  in 
accordance  with  the  immutable 
rules  laid  down  by  Darwin, 
Huxley,  and  Ball,  were  able 
to  graze  in  comfort  in  that 
their  off-legs  were  some  three 
and  a  half  inches  shorter  than 
those  on  the  near  side.  Why 
the  off -legs  ?  The  answer  is 
obvious :  as  they  always  fol- 
lowed the  sunshine  round  the 
island,  they  naturally  circum- 
ambulated right-handed.  It 
was  well  known  also  that  the 
patriarchal  or  decrepit  goats 
kept  near  the  top  of  the  hill, 
the  full-grown  and  athletic  goats 
half-way  up,  and  the  young 
half-fledged  goats  at  the  bot- 
tom, thus  fulfilling  the  rules 
that  exercise  is  good  for  the 
young  and  that  age  must  have 
its  little  comforts.  Dicky,  with 
the  other  guns,  started  his 
pursuit  half-way  up  the  slope, 
deciding  that  on  that  level  the 
best  eating  goats  would  be 
found.  They  discovered,  how- 
ever, that  not  being  themselves 
so  anatomically  adapted  for 


rapid  motion  on  a  sixty-degree 
hillside  as  were  their  proposed 
victims,  all  they  could  see  of 
the  latter  was  an  occasional 
glimpse  of  a  vanishing  latter 
end  on  the  local  horizon,  some 
eighty  yards  away. 

It  is  hardly  credible  that  any 
presumably  intelligent  naval 
officers  could  be  so  dense,  but 
they  actually  pursued  those 
goats  at  high  speed  for  four 
hours  without  getting  a  chance 
of  a  shot,  until  it  occurred  to 
somebody  to  suggest  turning 
round  and  walking  back  "  wid- 
dershins."  Then,  of  course, 
the  inevitable  happened.  The 
startled  goats,  meeting  their 
enemies  face  to  face,  whirled 
round  and  tried  to  run  ;  in- 
stantly, their  off-legs  being  then 
some  seven  inches  from  ground- 
level,  they  fell,  and  rolling 
downhill  with  ever-increasing 
velocity,  fell  into  the  sea,  to  be 
garnered  by  the  men  in  the 
boats  waiting  at  the  landing- 
place. 

There  was  a  moment  of 
silence  as  Dicky  finished  the 
tale  and  looked  round  at  his 
audience  in  childish  wide-eyed 
innocence.  Then  Hanlan,  the 
policeman,  spoke. 

"  Bah  goom  !  that's  queer 
goin's  on.  Did'st  tha  get 
many  ?  " 

Dicky's  heart  leaped.  Could 
he  believe  his  ears  ?  "  Well," 
he  said,  "  we  took  what  we 
wanted  —  about  twenty  odd 
from  the  lower  levels  for  the 
ship's  company  to  eat,  and  two 
of  us  went  to  the  top  and  got 
a  couple  of  old  ones  just  for 
the  heads  and  horns.  They 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


791 


weren't  as  good  heads  as  we'd 
hoped,  though."  He  leaned 
forward,  looking  earnestly  at 
his  prey. 

"  Bah  goom  !  an'  tha  niver 
loosed  tha  gun  off  f  " 

"Not  a  shot.  'Twasn't 
wanted." 

"  Bah  goom  !  An'  did  tha 
get  many  Mevagissey  geese 
there,  sailor  ?  An'  did'st  ta 
hear  o'  tups  oop  Whernside 
that  grow  legs  i'  same  fashion  ? 
Can't  walk  round  fell  for  sun- 
shine because  o'  walls  and  that, 
so  they  walks  backside  forward 
orl  neet  to  be  right  for  morning. 
See  'em  if  you  like  come 
Thursday  bowlin'  to  Skipton 
Market  wi'  scooters  to  their 
off-legs  and  kickin'  out  the  near 
on  road.  Drover  runnin'  and 
dog  runnin'.  Bah  goom  !  " 

Dicky's  earnest  attitude  had 
relaxed.  He  reached  his  hand 
out  weakly  for  his  drink. 

"  Cheer  up  ;  you  didn't  get 
him,  but  he  didn't  get 
you  either,"  said  Chapman. 
"  There's  no  faith  north  of 
York.  Now  what  about  it, 
chaps  f  Just  one  sharp,  and 
then  ?  " 

"  And  then  another,  an'  cut 
'em  thicker.  Aye.  We've  made 
no  sort  of  arval  yet  to  wet 
t'evening,  and  it's  barely  twelve 
now."  The  slow-speaking  Clem 
Bates  was  evidently  prepared 
to  sit  anybody  out. 

"  Eh — dommit,  chaps.  Three 
hunder'  an'  sixty-five  days  for 
drinkin',  an'  ye  come  here  to 
shoot.  There's  no  sense  in  it. 
Pack  oop  an'  drink  oop  or  I'll 
lock  oop." 

The  subtle  hint  went  home. 


The  quick-witted  company  saw 
at  once  that  their  host  desired 
to  retire,  and  that  he  would 
be  grateful  if  they  would  follow 
his  example.  Two  of  them  in- 
stantly rose  ;  one  pocketed  the 
keys  of  the  whisky  cupboard, 
and  then  both  of  them,  closing 
with  Chapman,  hurled  him  to 
the  floor  and  proceeded  to 
carry  him  out.  Dicky  jumped 
to  the  rescue,  but  having  no 
knowledge  whatever  of  wrest- 
ling, and  fists  being  out  of  the 
programme,  found  himself  sud- 
denly helpless  on  the  floor. 
He  had  yet  to  learn  that 
everybody  can  wrestle  north 
of  York.  The  two  were  carried 
forth  and  gently  deposited,  on 
the  lower  step  of  the  stairs. 
The  remaining  guests  then 
broke  into  the  chorus  of  "  John 
Peel." 

Chapman  looked  at  Dicky. 
"  Good  lads,  aren't  they  ?  " 
he  said.  "  They'll  just  have 
a  couple  more  and  then  turn 
in.  They  haven't  had  as  much 
work  as  us  to-day,  and  I'm 
footsore  to-night." 

Dicky  woke  with  a  vague 
idea  that  distant  guns  were 
firing.  The  dull  booming  sound 
came  nearer,  and  he  opened 
his  eyes.  Bang  ! — and  heavy 
boots  stumped  along  the  pas- 
sage. Bang  ! — on  his  own  door. 
It  was  the  chauffeur  passing 
from  door  to  door  in  his  capa- 
city of  "  knocker-up."  It  was 
not  yet  full  light,  and  the 
twilight  threw  faint  shadows 
through  the  heavy  old-fashioned 
window.  Dressing  was  a  quick 
operation.  A  bath  could  wait 


792 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Dec. 


for  the  evening,  and  shaving 
was  evidently  not  compulsory 
in  this  ultra-bachelor  establish- 
ment. Outside  his  door  Dicky 
found  a  can  of  hot  water  and 
his  shooting-boots,  the  latter 
plentifully  besmeared  with  gear- 
box grease.  At  ten  to  seven 
he  hurried  downstairs  and  found 
three  of  the  party  already  well 
under  way  with  breakfast.  The 
table  was  spread  in  the  normal 
Yorkshire  manner  —  that  is, 
each  guest  was  expected  to 
accommodate  a  pint  bowl  of 
porridge  and  rich  cream,  a  glass 
of  milk,  coffee,  some  tinned 
pine-apple,  two  poached  eggs, 
one  boiled  egg,  and  several 
enormous  slabs  of  excellent 
cooked  ham.  Kippers  and  sau- 
sages were  set  in  large  dishes 
before  the  fire  for  those  who 
felt  hungry  and  who  might 
feel  that  the  lighter  refresh- 
ments on  the  table  were  in- 
sufficient. All  the  guns  were 
present  by  five  minutes  to  the 
hour,  and  at  seven-fifteen  the 
cars  were  at  the  door.  Appa- 
rently when  one  shot  Moordyke 
one  shot  it,  and  did  not  dally 
about  the  business  either. 
There  was  quite  a  nip  in  the 
air  as  they  swung  out  of  the 
drive  and  roared  down  the 
valley,  and  coat- collars  were 
turned  up  and  caps  pulled 
down.  The  run  was  two  miles 
downhill,  then  up  a  short  steep 
incline,  and  then  three  miles  of 
steady  climbing  on  a  slope  just 
inside  the  top-gear  of  thirty 
horse-power.  The  road  ran 
between  high  fell-sides,  a  wind- 
ing ribbon  between  seas  of 
brown  and  dull  red  heather. 


Grouse  rose  occasionally  to 
right  and  left  of  them,  a  few 
blackcock  sailed  away  in  front, 
and  the  grey  sheep  clustered 
together  to  stare  as  the  pro- 
cession of  three  cars  rushed 
by.  At  a  gate  in  a  loose  stone 
wall  on  the  roof  of  Yorkshire, 
and  ten  thousand  miles  from 
the  civilisation  of  London,  the 
cars  stopped,  and  from  below 
the  wall  a  line  of  sitting  men 
rose  up — sixteen  drivers  of  all 
ages  and  two  keepers.  There 
was  no  pause  for  conversation. 
In  five  minutes  the  cartridge- 
bags,  guns,  and  shooters  were 
sorted  out,  and  the  whole 
platoon  was  tramping  away 
uphill  over  a  rough  peat  cart- 
track.  (It  is  always  uphill  in 
grouse  -  shooting  —  you  never 
seem  to  go  down.)  The  leaders 
set  a  sharp  pace,  and  the 
party  moved  in  comparative 
silence.  The  idea  was  appa- 
rently that  they  were  there  to 
shoot  grouse,  that  the  pro- 
gramme for  the  day  was  to  be 
held  to,  that  talking  reduced 
speed,  and  the  matter  in  hand 
must  be  concentrated  on. 
Dicky  approved  the  idea  ;  this 
looked  to  him  like  business. 

About  the  end  of  the  first 
mile  the  drivers  turned  aside 
down  a  gully  and  disappeared. 
The  guns  did  not  check,  but 
marched  straight  on.  Dicky 
began  to  wish,  first  that  he 
had  not  brought  such  an  opti- 
mistic lot  of  cartridges  with 
him,  and  second,  that  he  had 
not  been  drinking  pre  -  war 
whisky  at  midnight.  No  such 
ideas  appeared  to  occur  to  the 
others — at  least,  if  they  did, 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


793 


nobody  voiced  them.  It  seemed 
as  if  they  trained  on  such 
nocturnal  frivolities,  and  felt 
all  the  fresher  for  it.  The 
cart-track  died  away,  and  they 
plunged  downhill  to  cross  a 
beck ;  up  the  other  side  in 
single  file,  and  then  on  and  still 
up  for  another  half-mile  before 
the  first  butt  appeared.  Each 
man  knew  his  place,  having 
picked  a  card  as  they  left  the 
house,  and  Dicky  was  number 
three.  His  card  told  him  to 
move  up  two  places  each  drive, 
and  not  to  fire  his  gun  when 
crossing  the  moor  between 
drives ;  it  also  showed  him 
some  neat  blank  columns  in 
which  to  insert  his  bag  during 
the  day.  The  guns  for  the 
farther  butts  passed  him  to- 
gether, perspiring  somewhat, 
but  maintaining  the  pace.  The 
only  remark  as  they  went  came 
from  his  host,  who  threw  the 
warning,  "Ten  minutes  only," 
over  his  shoulder.  Dicky 
loaded  his  gun,  turned  his  coat- 
collar  up  to  hide  his  white 
shirt,  and  mopped  his  brow 
with  an  already  sodden  hand- 
kerchief. There  was  a  clear 
view  in  front  of  five  hundred 
yards,  the  ground  rising  slightly 
to  a  low  crest.  At  eight-thirty- 
five  he  glanced  at  his  wrist- 
watch  :  the  ten  minutes  must 
be  just  about  up.  Looking  up 
again  he  saw  a  brood  appear 
over  the  crest  straight  in  front, 
and  then  two  smaller  ones  on 
each  side.  They  came  high 
over  on  a  perfectly  straight 
course,  and  he  dropped  one 
bird  with  two  barrels.  The 
small  broods  gave  shots  to  his 


neighbours,  and  he  noted  that 
each  of  them — the  groom  and 
the  mill-owner — dropped  a  clean 
right  and  left.  There  followed 
a  pause  of  perhaps  five  minutes, 
and  then  far  away  in  front  he 
heard  the  drivers,  their  voices 
carrying  well  down  the  wind, 
"  Hold  'em  up — hold  'em  up  ! 
Eh— Yeh—  Ya-a-r-r.  Ho'd  'em 
up  there  !  "  A  little  cloud  of 
specks  showed  up  in  the  sky 
as  a  big  brood  broke  out  across 
the  wind  in  the  teeth  of  a  storm 
of  shouts  and  napping  flags. 
Birds  appeared  coming  straight 
at  the  butts — hat-high  and  fly- 
ing like  bullets  ;  in  strings  of 
twenties,  thirties,  in  columns 
of  hundreds.  There  was  hardly 
a  pause  between  the  broods, 
and  they  came  absolutely 
straight  and  without  hesita- 
tion. Dicky  fired  swiftly  and 
fairly  accurately,  but  knew  well 
that  his  neighbours  were  firing, 
and  killing  with,  three  shots  to 
his  two.  "  Ho'd  'em  up — Yah 
—Yah  —  Ya-a-rr  !  "  "  Battle 
yerr  flags  about,  ye  feckless 
good-for-nowts.  Ef  ye  mun 
sleep  standin'  ye'll  no'  do  it 
here,  blast  ye !  Get  oop  on 
the  left — get  oop  there.  Dom- 
mit — a'm  fair  dry  wi'  roarin' 
at  ye  !  "  The  keeper's  voice 
showed  that  though  his  job 
lay  in  Yorkshire,  his  birth- 
place was  a  good  step  farther 
north.  "  Ho'd  'em  up — Yah — 
Ya-r-r.  Eh— Ar-r-h  !  "  The 
drivers  were  not  far  off  now, 
though  out  of  sight.  The 
stream  of  birds  eased  up  a  little, 
and  the  guns  had  a  moment  to 
cool.  Then  came  the  rush  of 
birds  that  had  settled  on  the 


794 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Dec. 


crest  in  front,  some  turning 
back  over  the  drivers,  but  the 
majority  giving  beautiful  sport- 
ing shots  as  they  swerved  along 
the  line  downhill.  Twice  Dicky 
gasped  with  astonishment  at 
the  range  at  which  some  fell — 
taken  by  his  neighbours  a  full 
sixty  yards  out.  The  drive 
ended  in  a  rattle  of  quick 
firing  from  the  upper  butts, 
and  then  a  line  of  white  flags, 
all  perfectly  aligned,  appeared 
over  the  crest.  Dicky  laid 
down  his  gun  and  stepped 
out  to  the  heather.  "  Golly  !  " 
he  observed;  and  again,  "By 
gum  !  .  .  .  That  was  grouse- 
shootin'.  .  .  ." 

Except  for  Dicky,  all  the 
guns  had  dogs  —  beautifully 
trained  Labradors  that  worked 
at  a  gallop.  He  himself  picked 
the  birds  in  sight  near  his  butt, 
and  then,  on  shouted  instruc- 
tions from  Astley,  waited  till 
that  worthy's  dog,  its  imme- 
diate job  finished,  was  sent 
down  to  him.  Standing  by  his 
coat  and  cartridge  -  bags,  he 
watched  eight  grouse  collected 
in  six  minutes,  the  collection 
involving  pursuit  along  the 
lines  of  two  runners.  The 
drivers  had  collected  in  groups 
by  the  butts,  and  he  noticed 
that  none  of  them  moved  from 
their  positions  till  the  dogs  had 
finished  their  search  ;  it  was 
evident  that  they  required  no 
instruction  as  to  the  necessity 
for  keeping  clear  of  ground 
over  which  retrieving  is  in  pro- 
gress. The  last  "  certainty  " 
being  found,  a  whistle  blew 
and  the  procession  moved  off 
at  the  same  steady  travelling 


pace.  Dicky  walked  with  Ast- 
ley, and  the  ground  being  now 
level,  found  breath  for  con- 
versation. He  remarked  on 
the  speed  with  which  the  pick- 
up, and  in  fact  the  programme 
generally,  was  carried  out. 

"  Aye,  dogs  '11  pick  up 
quicker'n  men  will.  If  you're 
going  to  use  men,  keep  dogs 
i'  leash,  I  say  ;  if  you  use  dogs, 
keep  men  still  downwind  or  in 
t'butt.  If  you  see  a  man  work- 
ing his  dog  and  scent  seems 
bad,  it's  no  use  blaming  scent ; 
it's  odds  that  scent's  all  reet, 
but  t'man's  standin'  to  weather 
o'  t'game.  They  say  i'  York- 
shire a  good  dog  gets  more'n 
a  bad  gun,  and  that's  a  fact ; 
I'd  say,  too,  that  a  dom  fool'll 
spoil  t'best  scentin'  day." 

"  You  were  getting  some 
good  shots  in  then.  I  think 
I'll  be  a  bit  of  a  passenger  in 
this  shoot.  You're  all  a  bit 
too  skilled  for  me  to  keep  up 
with." 

"  An'  we'd  be  fools  if  we 
couldn't  shoot  grouse.  We  get 
enough  of  it.  If  you  did  as 
much,  you'd  do  as  well  or 
maybe  better.  It's  good  sport 
if  you  shoot  well  or  badly,  and 
we  don't  try  for  records." 

"  D'you  have  many  strangers 
up  here  to  shoot  ?  " 

"  A  few  ;  some  shoot  well 
and  some  don't.  Some  are 
dangerous,  and  they're  not 
t' worst  shots  either.  D'you 
always  open  your  gun  like  that 
when  you  come  up  to  talk  to 
a  man  ?  " 

"  If  I  haven't  shot  with  'em 
before — yes." 

"  Well,   it's   a  better  credit 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


795 


than  showin'  him  your  pass- 
book. Out  on  t'moor  they 
don't  care  who  you  are  or  how 
you  shoot.  It's  what  you  shoot 
that  they  want  to  know.  Here's 
butts  —  you're  five  —  down 
t 'gully  to  fright  and  second 
you  come  to." 

The  drivers  passed  on  down 
the  gully,  and  Chapman  and 
Astley,  having  deposited  their 
guns  and  impedimenta  in  their 
own  shelters,  came  down  also 
to  talk  to  the  guest.  The 
three  sat  down  in  the  heather 
beside  the  butt  and  lit  their 
pipes.  "  How  long  will  they 
be  getting  round?  "  said  Dicky, 
nodding  at  the  drivers,  now  two 
hundred  yards  away  downhill. 

"  Half  an  hour,"  said  Chap- 
man. "  They've  got  to  get 
over  a  mile  on.  We've  got  a 
bit  o'  time  for  a  spell.  But 
don't  get  the  idea  that  you 
can  sit  out  and  talk  till  t'drive 
starts  i'  grouse-shootin'.  When 
the  beaters  first  begin  to  show 
at  the  beginning  o'  t'drive — 
before  they've  spread  out  even 
— you'll  get  a  few  birds  that 
are  wild  gettin'  up  and  bring- 
ing more  along.  You  should 
always  be  in  t'butt  and  ready 
before  you  think  there's  a 
chance  of  shootin'  at  all !  Man 
looks  a  fool  if  he's  caught 
laikin'." 

"  Aye,"  said  Astley  slowly. 
"  Ah've  seen  some  dom  fools 
hang  on  time  an'  time  again. 
There's  no  sense  in  it." 

Dicky  fondled  the  gun  that 
lay  across  his  knees,  and  began 
to  rub  with  his  sleeve 
the  already  speckless  stock. 
"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  good  drill 


can  make  a  shoot,  you've  done 
it  here.  Your  men  and  guns 
are  as  sharp  on  it  as  the  sailors 
at  a  field-gun  competition.  How 
long  have  you  had  this  moor  ?  " 

"  Only  since  the  war.  We 
had  another  moor  before — over 
tops  and  down  Swaledale, — 
Eh  —  hell!  .  .  ."  A  whistle 
sounded  from  below,  and  with 
the  whistle  came  a  rush  of 
grouse,  at  least  a  hundred 
birds  in  groups  of  a  dozen  or 
so,  crossing  the  line  diagonally 
over  the  two  empty  butts 
above  Dicky's.  The  three  men 
leaped  up,  and  the  guest 
plunged  behind  the  turf  wall ; 
as  he  did  so  he  felt  the  others 
stumble  in  to  bend  double 
beside  him.  He  got  off  four 
cartridges  into  the  birds  that 
passed  within  range,  killing 
two.  Then  he  waited  for  an- 
other chance,  and  watched  the 
stream  rushing  over  Astley's 
and  Chapman's  butts.  Two 
heads  rose  cautiously  beside 
him  and  watched  also,  then, 
as  the  last  of  the  pack  dis- 
appeared, the  heads  spoke. 
Each  said  something  different 
in  plain  English,  but  the  gen- 
eral idea  was  the  same  and  the 
wording  clear.  Chapman  kicked 
open  the  door  and  went  uphill 
at  a  run.  Astley  checked  a 
moment  before  following  his 
example :  "  As  I  was  tellin' 
you,"  he  said,  "  there's  no 
dommed  sense  in  it.  .  .  ." 

They  got  through  eight  drives 
by  half-past  five,  and  even  the 
toughest  of  them  showed  signs 
of  lack  of  training  before  they 
had  finished.  Lunch  had  been 
taken  in  the  form  of  sand- 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Dec. 


wiches,  eaten  as  they  sat  out 
in  the  heather.  Tea  had  con- 
sisted of  pre-war  liqueur  brandy 
passed  from  hand  to  hand  in 
the  bottle.  At  six  o'clock  they 
reached  the  road  and  the  cars, 
and  the  bag  was  counted — 
two  hundred  and  thirty-seven 
brace  with  three  and  a  half 
brace  of  blackcock :  a  good 
day,  and  as  Chapman  put  it, 
"  right  good  weather  for  kill- 
in'."  The  cars  came  down  the 
hill  at  a  rush,  swaying  round 
the  bends  and  making  the  pas- 
sengers bounce  in  their  seats. 
The  smoking-room  looked  its 
cosiest  as  they  clattered  in,  and 
the  smell  of  dinner  was  wel- 
come. Dicky  found  himself 
engaged  on  the  task  of  cleaning 
eight  guns — a  job  which  he 
held  all  his  visit ;  he  seemed 
to  have  been  tacitly  appointed 
to  the  post — probably  owing 
to  his  interest  in  the  argument 
about  various  makes  of  weap- 
ons the  previous  evening.  By 
strict  attention  to  business  he 
finished  the  job  in  twenty 
minutes,  and  by  a  masterly 
manoeuvre  performed  while  the 
stud-groom  and  the  capitalist 
were  arguing  as  to  who  was 
next  in  turn,  slipped  into  num- 
ber two  bathroom  without  hav- 
ing to  wait. 

After  dinner  the  conversa- 
tion ran  again  on  sport — from 
shooting  to  handball,  wrestling, 
and  hurley.  Dicky  was  igno- 
rant of  even  the  names  of 
some  of  the  games  mentioned, 
though  the  others  seemed  to 
know  not  only  all  the  rules 
and  details,  but  the  names  of 
every  player  of  mark  in  the 


North.  The  talk  changed  to 
big-game  shooting,  and  Dicky, 
having  touched  the  fringe  of 
that  sport  on  foreign  stations, 
was  able  to  join  in,  exaggerat- 
ing as  requisite  when  his  limited 
personal  experiences  failed  him. 
His  host  spoke  of  the  fallow- 
deer  that  roamed  the  upper 
slopes  of  the  Dale,  and  of 
"  t'owd  buck  "  that  had  been 
marked  for  death  this  two  years 
past,  but  which  had  escaped 
from  formal  drives,  rifle-bullets, 
and  buckshot  charges  fired  by 
farmers,  and  which  had  done 
forty  pounds  worth  of  damage 
to  one  turnip-field  alone.  Ap- 
parently this  animal,  not  con- 
tent with  the  woods  and  the 
moors  of  the  hills,  had  dis- 
covered easy  feeding  in  the 
valleys,  and,  with  his  family, 
descended  nightly  to  add  to 
his  already  excessive  girth  and 
weight.  Dicky  showed  interest. 
Wish  I'd  brought  a  rifle,"  he 
said. 

"  And  why  not  ?  Send  a 
wire  for  it  now — where  is  it  ? 
London?  All  right,  it'll  be 
here  to-morrow  night  by  pas- 
senger train.  I'll  bet  you  two 
quid  to  one  you  don't  get  him 
in  a  day — or  two  days  either, 
if  it  comes  to  that.  We've  got 
an  off-day  Monday  walkin'  up 
t'edge  o'  t'moor,  and  you  can 
start  at  dawn  if  you  like.  Will 
you  have  it  ?  " 

Dicky  began  to  suspect  the 
buck  in  question  to  be  a  source 
of  income  to  the  party,  for 
instantly  Chapman's  bet  was 
repeated  by  the  whole  crowd. 
He  took  up  Chapman  at  once 
and  refused  the  others,  except 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


797 


for  Astley's  offer  of  five  bottles 
of  whisky  to  one  of  gin,  which 
seemed  to  savour  rather  of 
contempt.  The  telephone  was 
called  into  play,  and  the  call 
passed  to  London  in  hopes  that 
the  gun-maker  who  had  the 
care  of  the  weapon  at  the  time 
might  be  on  his  premises  after 
closing  time.  The  deal  con- 
cluded, he  had  to  stand  a  fire 
of  chaff.  There  wasn't  any 
buck  near  Moordyke  at  all ; 
he  could  walk  twenty  mile  and 
not  see  a  slot ;  the  woods 
covered  miles  of  ground  and 
were  almost  impassable,  and 
he  couldn't  see  a  yard  in  them 
for  the  green  on  the  trees ; 
the  buck  would  play  with  him 
all  day  and  then  cross  over  to 
Swaledale,  —  altogether  Dicky 
began  to  feel  that  he  was 
going  to  need  all  his  optimism 
on  Monday  morning. 

They  let  him  off  after  a 
while,  and  he  got  up  from  his 
chair  to  mix  himself  a  drink. 
Hanlan,  the  Swaledale  police- 
man, joined  him  by  the  table 
and  spoke  quietly. 

"I'll  come  wi'  you  Monday, 
if  you  like — I  know  t 'ground." 

"Will  you?  Good  man. 
Can  you  move  quietly  in  cover 
and  keep  still  between  times  ?  " 

"  Aye.  I  know  where  we'll 
find  tracks  at  daylight,  too, 
where  he's  come  up  fra'  feed- 
ing. Ye'll  get  him  i'  t'day  if 
you're  keen  to  work." 

"  I'm  that.    Good  man." 

Feeling  that  at  any  rate  he 
would  have  somebody  at  his 
back  to  sympathise  with  a 
failure,  he  returned  to  his  seat 
a  little  more  cheerful.  The 


talk  had  changed  to  a  discus- 
sion on  cards,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  a  poker  game  and  a 
game  of  nap  were  started.  He 
had  heard  tales  of  the  high 
stakes  for  which  the  northmen 
were  accustomed  to  play,  and 
was  pleased  to  find  that  on  this 
occasion  the  value  of  the  points 
was  fixed  at  what  might  be 
termed  "  stud-groom  "  limits. 
His  opponents  played  keenly 
and  well,  and  he  finished  the 
game  at  midnight,  after  some 
quite  exciting  hands,  about 
thirteen  and  elevenpence 
down.  Two  of  the  players 
sat  on,  drawing  "  cold  hands  " 
against  each  other  for  next 
year's  unborn  Labrador  pups. 
Dicky  was  devoured  with  curi- 
osity as  to  what  actual  cash 
value  these  units  represented, 
but  was  afraid  to  confess  his 
ignorance  by  inquiry.  The  two 
interested  canine  parties,  the 
matter  having  been  explained 
to  them  by  their  masters, 
appeared  to  take  an  intelligent 
interest  in  the  play. 

He  had  just  failed  to  conceal 
a  yawn,  and  was  thinking  of 
bed,  when  the  bright  idea 
struck  Astley  that  he  would 
like  to  call  on  "  Harry."  This 
personage  was  apparently  a 
gipsy,  and  Dicky  gathered 
that  he  lived  "  'bout  five  mile 
up  Dale."  Further  questioning 
elicited  the  illuminating  ex- 
planation that  he  was  "  Hal 
o'  Bill  o'  Susan  "  (apparently 
some  form  of  pedigree  in  the 
North  Country  stud-book). 

Before  the  southerner  had 
realised  that  the  suggestion  was 
serious,  two  cars  were  at  the 


798 


Heather  Miarture. 


[Dec. 


door,  and  the  party  was  pack- 
ing itself  into  them.  They 
went  down  the  hill  in  a  blaze 
of  head-lights  and  to  the  ac- 
companiment of  "  The  Oak 
and  the  Ash,  and  the  Bonny 
Birchen  tree,"  rendered  by  the 
occupants  of  the  leading  car. 


And  at  that  point  of  the 
proceedings  we  might  say  good 
night  to  him.  It  was  lucky 
that  the  next  day  was  Sunday, 
and  that  there  was  no  fixed 
time  for  breakfast  at  Moordyke 
when  there  was  no  shooting 
programme. 


CHAPTER  vm. 


Betty  turned  the  big  horse 
away  from  hounds  and  walked 
him  up  the  grass  track  that 
led  over  the  downs  towards 
home — seven  miles  away.  She 
was  saving  Peter  for  a  little 
jumping  practice  in  the  after- 
noon, and  she  was  not  to  be 
tempted  by  any  scurry  after 
cubs  if  it  took  her  outside  her 
day's  programme.  The  thud 
of  hoofs  behind  her  made  her 
turn,  and  she  saw  a  neatly- 
dressed  man  on  a  big  dapple- 
grey  mare  pulling  up  beside 
her.  She  straightened  a  little 
in  her  seat  and  smiled  a  greet- 
ing. 

The  two  actions  rather  ex- 
plain the  situation.  She  rode 
well,  and  knew  it ;  so  did  her 
family  know  —  and  for  that 
reason  they  never  told  her  so. 
Mr  Geoffrey  Hicks  had  told 
her ;  in  fact,  he  made  rather 
a  habit  of  it,  having  found  on 
previous  occasions  that  in  hunt- 
ing-field affairs  of  the  heart  it 
paid  to  do  so.  He  was  a 
bachelor,  wealthy,  and  a  fair 
rider ;  in  his  forty  years  of 
life  he  had  had  many  little 
episodes  with  the  other  sex 
over  which  a  decent  veil  of 
uncertainty  could  be  drawn, 


but,  of  course,  nobody  ever 
talked  about  such  things.  In 
the  case  of  Betty,  he  knew 
perfectly  well  that  it  would 
be  most  unwise  to  allow  him- 
self his  usual  scope.  He  could 
not  risk  scandals,  and  her 
family  was  influential, — no,  his 
only  anxiety  in  the  matter  was 
over  his  own  f eelings  ;  he  might 
even  find  himself  being  carried 
away  into  such  foolishness  as 
an  engagement,  and  he  had  no 
use  at  all  for  such  entangle- 
ments. What  he  wanted  was 
amusement,  and  the  girl  was 
so  pretty  and  so  remarkably 
young  and  fresh,  that  he  some- 
times had  a  little  difficulty  in 
holding  himself  in  hand. 

Betty  •  was  —  well,  he  was 
good-looking  in  a  rather  Span- 
ish way  ;  he  was  very  polite, 
his  flattery  was  obviously  sin- 
cere, and  she  was  not  used  to 
open  admiration  from  men. 
The  experience,  in  fact,  was 
new  to  her,  and  she  liked 
it. 

"  Had  enough,  eh  ?  So've  I. 
It's  too  hot  to  go  on  pottering 
about  this  morning."  He 
turned  a  little  in  his  saddle 
to  look  her  over,  making  no 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


799 


attempt  to  hide  the  approval 
in  his  eyes. 

"  I'm  going  back  because  of 
the  horse,  Mr  Hicks.  He's  got 
to  exercise  for  the  show  this 
afternoon.  But  you  haven't 
got  that  excuse.  You're  going 
home  from  laziness,  I  believe." 

"  Am  I  ?  I  don't  think  so." 
He  looked  hard  at  her  and 
laughed  silently.  Betty  did 
not  blush :  modern  girls  of 
seventeen  don't.  She  raised 
wondering  eyebrows,  and  her 


mouth  opened  a  little  in  child- 
ish surprise.  (She  had  very 
good  teeth.)  Then  she  stroked 
Peter's  neck  with  her  crop, 
and  a  dimple  showed  very 
slightly  on  one  cheek.  Let 
none  condemn  her  ;  you'd  do 
the  same  yourself  if  you  had 
her  looks.  We're  only  young 
once. 

They  walked  the  horses  all 
the  way  to  Westleigh.  It  was 
a  warm  day  for  hurrying  horses 
anyhow. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


It  was  dark  when  Dicky 
woke,  and  he  wondered  for  a 
moment  what  he  had  roused 
at  all  for.  Then  the  shuffle 
of  feet  in  the  passage  cleared 
his  memory,  and  he  looked  at 
his  wrist-watch  —  five  o'clock 
and  a  bet  to  win ;  he  wished 
the  business  didn't  have  to 
start  so  early.  He  growled, 
stretched  himself,  rose  reluc- 
tantly, and  washed  in  cold 
and  unwelcome  water.  His 
clothes  felt  harsh  and  uncom- 
fortable, and  the  bed,  as  he 
looked  back  at  it  before  passing 
out  of  the  door,  very  nice  and 
inviting.  "  Damn,"  he  said, 
as  he  stumbled  down  the 
gloomy  stairs.  "  Damn  all  bets 
an' whisky."  He  joined  Hanlan 
in  a  silent  and  scrappy  break- 
fast, and  then  hurried  on  with 
his  preparations.  He  drew  the 
•303  from  the  case,  whipped 
out  the  bolt,  and  ran  the 
cleaning-rod  through  the  bar- 
rel ;  then  he  tore  open  a  packet 
of  ten  cartridges,  replaced  the 


bolt,  wiped  each  bullet  with 
some  dry  tow  from  the  case, 
and  as  he  reached  the  doorstep 
he  charged  the  magazine.  It 
was  grey  dawn  as  they  stepped 
out,  and  they  could  just  see 
their  way  across  the  fields ; 
Hanlan  led  across  drain,  wall, 
and  stile,  along  the  junction 
of  pasture-land  and  scattered 
woods,  for  a  full  mile  before  he 
spoke.  Then — 

"  If  we  don't  see  t'slot  here- 
about we'll  have  to  walk  a 
piece  yet,"  he  said.  "  It's  a 
right  spot  this  for  t'owd  devil 
to  mak'  oop  at."  He  stooped 
to  look  at  the  ground,  and 
Dicky  bent  also  ;  they  sepa- 
rated a  little,  and  moved  to 
and  fro  below  a  little  promon- 
tory of  bracken  that  jutted 
down  from  the  woods  into  a 
twenty-acre  stubble  field.  A 
rabbit  rushed  from  under 
Dicky's  feet,  and  a  jay  screamed 
harghly  from  the  hedge  behind 
him.  "Hist!  .  .  ." 

He   looked  up   quickly,   his 


800 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Dec. 


rifle  jerked  across  his  left  arm. 
Hanlan  was  on  one  knee  look- 
ing steadily  uphill.  His  frozen 
attitude  told  the  story  clearly 
— he  could  see  something,  and 
Dicky  couldn't.  Well,  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  wait. 
For  two  minutes  they  remained, 
one  kneeling,  the  other  rigid 
and  standing.  Then  a  faint 
rustle  came  from  the  upper 
edge  of  the  bracken,  a  branch 
of  a  low  fir  seemed  to  detach 
itself  and  glide  sideways,  and 
Hanlan  straightened  up.  There 
was  a  clash  of  metal  on  metal 
as  the  rifle-bolt  went  back  and 
home  again  —  a  pause,  and 
Dicky  snapped  the  safety-catch 
on. 

"  I  couldn't  see,"  he  whis- 
pered, "  not  till  he  moved." 

"  No  more  couldn't  I.  It 
was  a  doe  I  saw  first.  He's 
seen  us  now,  and  we  won't 
work  any  surprise  on  him  like 
— not  to-day." 

They  waited  a  minute  to 
calm  down  (even  a  fallow  can 
give  excitement  when  it  is  the 
actual  animal  you  are  working 
for,  and  no  hunt  can  be  carried 
out  in  any  way  but  coolly  if 
it  is  to  be  successful),  then 
Dicky  took  the  lead  and  moved 
silently  up  to  where  the  buck 
had  stood.  His  slot  was  un- 
mistakably clear,  that  of  two 
does  showing  half  the  size. 
The  ground  was  soft  and  the 
spooring  easy.  They  moved 
faster  as  the  light  got  better, 
bending  low,  and  varying  their 
glances  from  the  ground  to  the 
view  ahead.  The  buck  had 
trotted  on  gently,  evidently 
in  no  hurry,  and  working  slowly 


uphill.  The  woods  ran  for 
three  miles  below  the  moor, 
varying  from  fairly  thick  cover 
to  stretches  of  scattered  fir, 
larch,  and  spruce  trees.  Sud- 
denly the  spoor  showed  a  change 
of  pace  ;  the  buck  had  gone  at 
a  rush  for  fifty  yards,  had  then 
turned,  and  driven  the  does 
on,  bending  downhill  himself. 
Dicky  fingered  his  safety-catch, 
and  looked  meaningly  at  his 
companion  before  increasing  his 
pace  in  pursuit.  It  was  evident 
that  the  buck  knew  he  was 
being  followed.  The  spoor 
turned  again,  and  made  back 
along  the  thicker  cover  for 
some  three  hundred  yards. 
Then  it  branched  off  straight 
up  the  hill.  At  its  turn  was 
an  oval  depression  in  the  earth, 
its  surface  warm  and  its  edges 
touched  with  scattered  hair. 
"  Lord  !  what  did  he  lie  down 
for  ?  "  whispered  the  hunter. 
He  stood  and  thought  a  mo- 
ment, looking  round  at  the 
trees  ;  then  he  stepped  uphill 
forty  paces,  stopped  and  looked 
down.  "  Talk  of  Cape  buffa- 
loes !  "  he  whispered.  "  Look 
here — this  is  our  track  ;  he 
came  back  and  lay  back  there 
to  watch  us  go  by." 

"  Aye,  an'  sent  t'does  off, 
not  trusting  'em  like,  ther 
!  .  .  ."  Hanlan  was  an- 
noyed. 

Dicky  smiled.  "  He's  not 
easy  got,"  he  said.  "  He's 
done  this  before.  Come  on." 

They  followed  uphill  slowly 
in  single  file,  sweating  a  little 
as  the  sun  warmed  the  air. 
A  hundred  and  fifty  feet  up 
the  spoor  turned  straight  down- 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


801 


wind,  and  Dicky  stopped  again. 
"  Huffed  I  "  he  said.  "  Wind's 
nor'-west,  and  we're  It.  We'll 
have  either  to  go  out  at  the 
top  or  down  to  the  bottom  and 
break  in  a  mile  to  leeward. 
We'll  never  get  a  sight  of  him 
if  we  follow  his  line  now." 

"  Aye,  he's  going  to  give  us 
a  muck  sweat  yet.  He  can  see 
better  downhill  way.  Ye'd 
best  break  out  at  top,  an'  start 
in  again  an'  all " 

It  was  two  hours  later  before 
they  "  broke  in "  again,  and 
then  they  had  to  cut  right 
down  to  the  pasture  levels 
before  they  could  be  sure,  from 
the  absence  of  fresh  spoor,  that 
they  had  gone  far  enough  to 
leeward.  It  took  an  hour's 
zigzagging  to  the  north-west 
before  they  found  the  line, 
and  zigzagging  along  a  steep 
slope  is  bad  for  both  the  boots 
and  the  temper.  It  was  Hanlan 
who  found  the  splayed  slot 
first,  and  he  beckoned  Dicky 
to  see  it.  The  buck  had  been 
feeding  on  low  spruce  branches, 
and  had  been  joined  there  by 
the  two  does ;  he  had  then 
moved  downhill  again.  The 
two  avengers  followed  cau- 
tiously, and  noted  here  and 
there  where  the  three  deer  had 
checked  to  nibble  as  they  went. 
The  spoor  went  ^straight  on 
down  out  of  the  covert  and 
into  a  half-acre  patch  of  brack- 
en above  the  pastures.  This 
looked  like  business,  and  Dicky 
crouched  low  as  he  approached 
the  scattered  heap  of  rocks 
in  front  that  seemed  an  obvious 
spot  for  buck  to  rest  in  in  the 
heat  of  the  day.  Nothing 


moved  as  he  approached.  Han- 
lan's  step  was  as  noiseless  as 
his  own,  and  they  reached  the 
centre  of  the  bracken  and 
stood  up  beside  the  highest 
rock  together.  The  rocks  were 
on  a  little  mound,  and  all 
about  the  top  of  the  mound 
the  bracken  was  bent  and 
trodden  down.  As  they  stood 
they  could  see  a  mile  each  way 
below  the  woods,  and  the  same 
thought  struck  both  of  them 
together :  from  this  look-out 
post  one  could  see  any  one 
coming  out  of  the  woods — as 
they  had  done  an  hour  ago. 
Exactly.  Dicky  sat  down  and 
lit  a  cigarette.  He  felt  he 
needed  one.  He  had  come  out 
to  slaughter  a  poor  little  fallow 
buck  of  not  more  than  twelve 
stone ;  he  had  felt  a  certain 
compunction  about  it — his  rifle 
was  so  accurate,  and  his  eye 
so  trained  that  it  had  seemed 
— well,  anyhow  —  the  whole 
thing  was  great  fun  for  some- 
body, and  it  rather  looked  as 
though  the  buck  was  enjoying 
it.  Hanlan  voiced  his  thoughts 
for  him. 

"  Happen  he  didn't  watch 
out  here.  Ah'm  thinkin'  he 
ca'ed  in  those  does  for  that 
he  could  sleep  here  a  spell. 
Ah'm  thinkin'  he  just  said, 
'  Tha  look  out  west  and  tha 
look  out  east ' ;  when  tha  sees 
two  bloody  fules  come  out  o' 
t' woods  tha  mun  call  me, 
wimmin — an'  if  tha  sleeps  on 
it  ah'U  butt  thee  silly " 

Dicky  grunted.  "  And  that's 
a  fact,"  he  said. 

Across  the  valley  the  faint 
popping  of  guns  showed  that 


802 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Dec. 


the  other  members  of  the  party 
were  doing  well  with  the  out- 
lying grouse.  Dicky  began  to 
wish  he  was  with  them  ;  the 
prospect  of  having  his  leg 
pulled  on  his  return  was  rather 
galling.  "  Are  you  going  on  ?  " 
asked  Hanlan,  a  little  anxiously. 

Dicky  pulled  himself  together. 
(He  could  not  allow  his  com- 
panion to  outdo  him  in  zeal.) 
"We  are,"  he  said.  "And 
I've  got  the  idea  of  how  to  do 
it.  Now,  look ;  we're  about 
the  middle  of  the  line  of  wood 
here.  There's  over  a  mile  of 
it  to  leeward.  We'll  follow 
on  slowly  down-wind  and  see 
what  he  does.  He  must  either 
break  covert  out  on  the  moor 
or  double  back.  The  covert 
narrows  a  bit  that  end." 

"Aye,  that  might  do  it.. 
But  hoo  would  it  be  if  I  kept 
up-wind  o'  him  an'  made  him 
work  down  to  you  ?  Or  maybe 
if  you  went  outside  o'  wood  like 
at  t'end  ah'd  send  Tn'm  oot  on 
you." 

Dicky  shook  his  head. 
"  That'd  be  more  certain,"  he 
he  said,  "  but  he's  playing  fair, 
and  we  ought  to.  What  do 
you  think  ?  " 

"  Aye,  ye're  reet.  We'd  best 
stick  to  rules."  He  got  up 
and  stretched  himself.  "  Shall 
us?  " 

Dicky  got  up,  hitched  his 
rifle  under  his  arm,  and  led 
uphill  again  into  the  warm 
woods.  The  chase  settled  down 
once  more. 

Half  an  hour  later  they 
paused,  looking  at  the  ground. 
The  buck  had  stood  here  and 
waited  before  moving  on  faster. 


It  was  evidently  the  preliminary 
move  before  a  turn.  Dicky 
raised  a  wet  finger  and  thought 
for  a  moment,  then  pointed 
and  led  the  way  sharp  to  the 
left  and  downhill.  The  stag 
could  turn  back  either  way, 
but  with  a  slightly  quartering 
wind  the  odds  were  on  a  turn 
left-handed.  A  hundred  yards 
down  they  stopped  to  listen, 
and  as  they  stopped  everything 
seemed  to  happen  at  once. 
Hanlan  dived  straight  down 
on  his  face  and  lay  crouching 
— a  buck,  twice  as  big  as  Dicky 
had  expected,  and  nearly  cream- 
white  in  colour,  came  past  with 
a  crash  and  a  rush.  There 
were  no  does  with  him.  There 
were  trees  all  around,  and 
rough  rocks  and  fallen  trunks 
between.  Dicky  allowed  a  fair 
swing  in  front,  and  pulled  the 
trigger  evenly  and  without 
checking,  at  a  range  of  barely 
fifteen  yards.  The  buck  leaped 
high  in  the  air,  his  spreading 
antlers  silhouetted  against  a 
patch  of  sky,  landed  beyond 
a  heap  of  rock,  cleared  a  tree- 
trunk,  and  was  gone.  Hanlan 
rose  cautiously  and  looked  at 
Dicky,  who  was  examining  a 
fir-tree  with  close  interest.  It 
was  an  ordinary  sort  of  fir- 
tree,  about  twelve  inches  thick, 
but  was  noticeable  for  the  fact 
that  it  had  been  slashed  three 
inches  deep  along  its  side  as  if 
a  six-pounder  shell  had  touched 
it.  A  soft-nosed  -303  with  a 
high  -  velocity  axite  charge 
makes  just  that  sort  of  mark. 
"  And  that's  that,"  said  the 
sailor. 

"Aye," — a   pause.     "Aye — 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


803 


Gor !     What   a   head   on'm — 
like  a  red-deer." 
"  Yes — damn." 

They  walked  slowly  and 
gloomily  along  the  spoor.  The 
case  was  obviously  pretty  hope- 
less now.  Three  miles  of  wood 
in  front,  a  badly-scared  buck, 
and  more  woods  across  the 
valley  with  an  open  moor 
above  them.  They  might  spoor 
till  dark  without  coming  within 
a  mile  of  him.  But  follow  they 
did,  and  the  sun  dipped  and 
closed  the  north-western  hori- 
zon as  they  followed.  The 
buck  had  gone  right  on  to  the 
north  end  of  covert,  turned 
up  on  the  moor  and  —  van- 
ished. Eock  and  thick  heather 
are  poor  tracking  grounds,  and 
neither  of  the  pursuers  were 
Hottentots.  As  the  light  was 
failing  they  gave  up,  and  cut 
downhill  by  way  of  the  gully 
that  led  close  past  Moordyke 
House.  Six  hundred  yards 
from  home  Dicky  stopped,  and 
in  silence  handed  the  rifle  to 
Hanlan  while  he  felt  for  pipe 
and  matches.  Hanlan  took  the 
weapon,  looking  up  the  gully- 
side  to  the  south  as  he  waited. 
As  the  pipe  came  out  he 
gripped  the  hand  that  held  it 
and  froze  rigid.  Dicky's  heart 
gave  a  leap,  and  he  gently 
replaced  the  matches  in  his 
coat  pocket,  staring  to  the 
south  also.  Then  he  saw,  and 
reached  cautiously  for  the  rifle. 
Sixty  yards  away,  in  among 
scattered  fir-trees,  the  silhou- 
ette of  antlers  showed.  The 
buck  was  standing  looking  up 
to  the  moor,  head  up  and 

VOL.  ccx. — NO.  MCCLXXIV. 


motionless.  A  tree  hid  his 
shoulder  and  two  more  trees 
his  flanks — between  the  trees 
a  gap  of  eight  inches  or  so 
showed,  and  Dicky  went  to 
his  knees  and  drew  a  long 
breath  for  the  shot.  As  his 
dim  foresight  came  on  he  hesi- 
tated till  Hanlan  could  have 
sworn  aloud.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  if  Hanlan  had  not  been 
there  he  would  not  have  fired  ; 
his  victory  had  come  in  the 
chance  of  a  fair  shot,  and  he 
would  gladly  have  let  his  ad- 
versary go.  But  with  his  keen 
companion  to  satisfy,  and  the 
bets — the  shot  echoed,  ripped 
and  crackled  away  down  the 
Dale,  the  blink  of  bright  light 
at  the  rifle  muzzle  indicating 
the  half-darkness  of  the  gully. 
Hanlan  gave  a  leap  forward 
and  stopped,  his  knife  showing 
in  his  hand.  As  the  rifle  bolt 
clashed  out  and  in  again  the 
buck  stepped  two  paces  for- 
ward, his  knees  gave  a  little, 
straightened,  his  head  went  up, 
and  he  fell  heavily  on  his  side. 
They  walked  up  and  looked  at 
him :  shot  just  in  the  right 
place,  and  the  bullet  had  not 
come  through — a  quick  death. 
Hanlan  ran  his  hand  down  the 
smooth  tines.  "  Eleven,"  he 
said,  "  an'  no  velvet  on — eh  ! 
Tha  wicked  owd  sinner,  ah'm 
glad  to  put  knife  to  thy 
thrapple.  .  .  ." 

Three  evenings  later  the 
party  sat  up  later  than  usual : 
Dicky  was  leaving  next  morn- 
ing, and  his  new  friends  were 
determined  on  ensuring  that 
he  left  them  sleepy  and  satis- 
2G 


804 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Dec. 


fled.  The  day's  shooting  had 
been  well  up  to  the  standard 
of  the  previous  Saturday,  and 
the  guns  had  been  hot  for  a 
while  during  three  of  the  drives. 
The  guest's  luggage  and  guns 
were  packed,  and  his  heart 
was  heavy,  for  the  idea  of 
breaking  away  from  such  sport 
and  such  people  was  hard.  He 
had,  in  the  short  time  he  had 
been  among  them,  just  begun 
to  learn  the  language  and  the 
ideas  of  these  strange  men,  and 
he  felt  that  he  would  like  to 
learn  a  lot  more.  They  were 
dispersing  next  day  also,  re- 
turning to  mill,  office,  and 
stable  to  await  the  next  shoot- 
ing date  a  fortnight  hence,  and 
he  had  been  implored  to  come 
back  and  join  them  in  driving 
the  moor  again.  He  had  pro- 
mised he  would  do  so,  and  had 
promised  enthusiastically  ;  he 
had  no  inkling  then  that  any- 
thing would  prevent  him  from 
keeping  to  his  word. 

"  And  you're  going  back  to 
be  respectable,  sailor ;  how'll 
you  like  that  ?  "  said  Astley. 

"Not  so  well;  but  I'll  be 
able  to  believe  more  of  what 
I  hear,  anyhow." 

"And  how's  that?  You 
don't  mean  anybody's  been 
tellin'  you  lies  up  here,  have 
they  ?  I  didn't  think  they 
did  such  things  nowadays." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  They 
may  have  done  it  more  in  the 
past,  but  they  do  it  better  now 
with  the  practice  they've  had. 
But  I  believe  'em  all  right.  I 
know  what's  due  from  a  guest. 
I  only  doubted  one  story,  and 
that  was  true,  as  it  happened. 


It  was  the  yarn  Sam  Briggs 
told  me  about  his  stable-boy." 

"  What !  'bout  lile  Ginger  ? 
He'll  make  a  jockey  one  day, 
that  lad." 

"  Yes — young  Ginger.  He 
told  me  he'd  sent  him  down 
to  the  station  to  unbox  three 
stags  coming  from  Swaledale, 
and  that  the  boy  just  took 
them  out  and  put  a  bridle  on 
the  biggest  and  mounted  him 
and  rode  him  home  with  the 
others  following  like  sheep." 

"  And  why  couldn't  you 
swallow  that  ?  They  were  un- 
broken and  wild,  but  Ginger's 
a  right  good  boy  to  ride." 

"  Oh  !  I  know  now.  But  I 
thought  then  that  a  stag  was 
a  red-deer,  not  a  colt." 

"  Ah  !  But  you're  only  half- 
educated  i'  t'South.  Did  Bill 
gi'  you  copy  of  t'Dales  poet  to 
take  away  ?  " 

"  He  did.  I'm  going  to 
learn  the  language  out  of 
that." 

Hunley  slid  a  little  farther 
down  in  his  chair,  and  spoke 
lazily.  "  Go  on,  sailor,"  he 
said,  "  you've  had  a  week  in 
the  country.  Tell  us  what  you 
think  of  Yorkshire  and  the 
people  you've  seen." 

"  What !    after  a  week  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  first  impressions 
count  a  lot.  Say  what  you 
think  of  these  chaps,  an'  all 
of  us."  Dicky  chewed  his 
pipe  in  silence  for  a  while 
and  thought  it  over.  "  All 
right,"  he  said.  "  You've  asked 
for  it."  He  took  a  drink, 
stared  at  the  fire  awhile,  and 
haltingly  started  off. 

"  Well,  you  see— it's— it's  like 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture, 


805 


this  :  a  Yorkshireman  is  a  chap 
with  a  reputation.  He's  got 
such  a  lot  of  self-respect  that 
he's  almost  top-heavy.  I  mean, 
he  thinks  a  lot  about  what  his 
neighbours  think."  A  growl 
of  dissent  from  Chapman  inter- 
rupted him. 

"  Let  me  go  on.  I  think 
I'm  right.  A  Yorkshireman 
will  fight  his  neighbour  over  a 
penny  stamp  if  it's  a  business 
matter,  but  he'll  give  him  half 
his  bank-balance  next  moment 
as  a  tip.  I've  seen  them  play- 
ing cards  with  outsiders  like 
me  in  the  game,  and  if  there 
was  a  misdeal  or  anything  like 
that,  there  wasn't  any  argu- 
ment ;  good  hands  or  bad  were 
all  chucked  back  and  the  money 
on  the  table  went  into  the 
"  kitty  "  ;  if  there  was  a  dis- 
pute over  a  Bradbury  lying  on 
the  floor,  it  was  just  put  in  the 
pool  and  the  game  went  on. 
Well,  then,  with  no  stranger 
playing,  only  Yorkshiremen  in, 
I've  seen  you  argue,  and  argue 
seriously,  over  a  sixpence  ;  you 
didn't  mind  the  sixpence,  but 
you  weren't  going  to  look  as 
if  you  were  easily  bounced ; 
you  had  a  reputation  for  hard- 
headedness  to  keep  up.  I'll 
try  and  explain  better.  You 
don't  mind  being  caught  doing 
silly  things  so  long  as  every- 
body knows  that  you  know 
it's  silly  ;  but  you're  afraid  of 
being  caught  doing  things  with- 
out having  seen  the  catch.  I 
think  if  I  was  a  tramp  who 
lived  by  begging  I'd  make  a 
fortune  in  Bradford " 

Astley  snorted  indignantly. 
"  Bradford  ?  There's  no  tramps 


i'  Bradford.  Nor  i'  Aber- 
deen either  —  for  the  same 
reason." 

"No,  it  isn't,"  Dicky  went 
on.  "  It's  because  they  don't 
know  how  to  beg  in  Bradford. 
I'd  do  it  the  right  way.  I'd 
go  to  a  house  and  ask  for  the 
master ;  he'd  come  out  with 
a  stick  ;  I'd  ask  him  for  some 
food  ;  he'd  curse  me,  and  tell 
me  to  go.  Well,  then,  I'd  talk 
sense ;  I'd  say,  '  Look  here, 
I've  got  just  fourpence  in  the 
world  ;  you've  got  brass,  and 
you  can  afford  odds.  I'll  toss 
you  fourpence  against  ten  bob.' 
Would  I  get  it  t  " 

"  TJh,  you'd  lose  your  four- 
pence,  likely.  ..." 

"  Yes,  but  if  he  won  he'd 
chuck  me  half -a- crown.  Is 
that  right  f  " 

"  Uh — aye.  You're  on  the 
line.  Tell  some  more." 

"  Well,  the  next  thing  is  his 
independence.  He's  so  inde- 
pendent he  won't  do  anything 
the  usual  sort  of  way  if  he  can 
help  it.  If  he's  made  mon«y 
he  spends  it  as  he  likes,  and 
not  as  the  usual  rich  people 
do.  If  his  tastes  have  always 
been  for  beer,  he  continues  with 
beer  and  doesn't  try  cham- 
pagne  " 

"  Half  a  minute.  You're 
going  canny  because  you're  on 
soft  ground,  and  you've  got 
some  of  the  people  you  mean 
listening.  I'll  say  something 
for  you  :  the  rich  man  up  here 
— the  nouveau  riche  (Bates' 
French  accent  was  better  than 
Dicky's) — doesn't  buy  his  way 
into  Society  just  because  he's 
got  sense  enough  to  know  he 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Dec. 


doesn't   fit.      That's    the   real 
reason,  sailor." 

"  I  don't  think  so  ;  and  it 
isn't  your  reason,  anyway.  I've 
met  the  type  you  mean  in 
London,  and  they're  not  York- 
shiremen — they're  Jews,  or  East 
End  Cockneys,  or  both.  Their 
accent  and  manners  are  bad 
and  their  habits  filthy,  but 
they're  taken  to  the  arms  of 
London  all  right :  London  will 
swallow  a  buck-nigger  if  he's 
got  cash  enough.  You  people 
could  buy  your  way  in  if  you 
want  to,  but  you  don't.  I  say 
it's  because  you're  independent, 
and  you  don't  see  why  you 
should  do  things  you  don't 
want  to  do.  You're  not  afraid 
of  what  London  Society  would 
think  of  you — you're  afraid  of 
what  you'd  think  of  London 
Society." 

Chapman  moved  a  little  in 
his  seat  at  Dicky's  left.  "  Is 
London  Society  rotten,  then — 
is  it  all  rotten  ?  " 

"Good  Lord!  No— there's 
a  small  section  of  it  that  you'd 
like,  and  that's  the  best  and 
most  exclusive  section.  You'd 
get  into  that  on  your  merits, 
if  you  had  any — not  on  cash. 
This  country  isn't  rotten ; 
there's  a  proportion  of  sound- 
ness yet  which  counts  decency 
and  fair  dealing  rather  than 
financial  success.  It's  not  that 
that  the  new  rich  get  into — 
they  land  in  the  layers  be- 
low it." 

"  Where  would  you  put  the 
political  layer,  then — high  or 
low  *  " 

;  Dicky's   brain   gave   him    a 
sudden  nudge  of  warning.  Here 


was  unexpectedly  dangerous 
ground.  He  got  his  answer 
out  on  the  instant,  though. 

"  Depends  which  layer  you 
mean.  There  are  rows  of 
political  layers,  and  they  move 
up  and  down ;  some  of  'em 
are  out  for  cash  only,  and  I 
wouldn't  rate  those  high. 
Others  are  out  for  power  and 
glory  and  the  chance  of  doing 
big  things.  That's  natural,  and 
I  don't  blame  'em  for  it.  Take 
that  chap  Hansard,  now.  I 
wouldn't  call  him  a  graft- 
hunter — he  and  his  crowd  are 
just  hangers-on  of  the  party  ; 
they  want  to  see  their  names 
in  the  papers  and  in  the 
'  Gazette.'  I  don't  blame  'em 
for  that — it's  human." 

"  Never  mind  politics.  Get 
back  on  the  line,  sailor  ;  talk 
about  Yorkshire." 

"  All  right ;  give  me  another 
drink,  and  I'll  talk  you  all  to 
sleep.  Where  was  I  ?  Oh  yes. 
There's  a  thing  that  surprised 
me  up  here.  You  don't  send 
any  recruits  to  the  Navy  ;  it's 
not  a  naval  country  at  all,  and 
yet  you  know  something  of 
naval  matters  that  they  don't 
realise  much  down  south.  I 
heard  one  of  you  saying  that 
the  Navy  made  money  in  peace- 
time for  this  country,  because 
no  other  nation  could  bully  us 
with  a  tariff  law  if  we  didn't 
want  'em  to.  Well,  I  knew 
that  was  true,  but  I  didn't 
expect  to  hear  it  said  by  any 
civilian,  especially  from  Brad- 
ford." 

"  Well,  and  isn't  it  Bradford 
and  business  men  who'd  think 
about  such  things  ?  " 


1921.] 


Heather  Mixture. 


807 


"  I  suppose  it  is,  but  one 
gets  in  the  way  of  expecting 
to  hear  nothing  from  business 
men  except  queries  about  the 
use  of  the  Navy,  and  com- 
plaints about  its  cost." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it.  We 
pull  brass  off  the  foreigner 
because  we've  got  a  fleet. 
D'you  think  the  foreigner 
doesn't  know  it  ?  He  knows 
it  as  well  as  we  do.  The 
Navy's  a  business  asset,  and 
it's  money  in  our  pockets  ;  we 
know  that  up  here,  whatever 
they  think  i'  South." 

"  WeU,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it. 
I'll  mention  it  to  the  Cabinet 
next  time  I  breakfast  with  'em. 
But  you've  run  me  dry  over 
Yorkshire.  Oh  no  !  I  forgot 
— you're  all  rather  like  school- 
boys and  you're  all  mischiev- 
ous. And  you  drink  and  smoke 
all  night,  and  then  go  out  and 
walk  donkeys'  miles  over  the 
moors  all  day  and  sweat  it  out 
again.  You  must  have  con- 
stitutions like  steel,  and  you 
keep  in  training  on  gallons  of 
beer  and  tons  of  exercise." 

"  What  about  the  country 
folk  ?  You've  talked  o'  wool 
— now  talk  o'  worsted." 

"Worsted?  Oh,  the  men! 
Well,  they're  the  same  as  you 
— damned  independent.  I  left 
my  cartridge-bag  at  the  lower 
butt  in  the  last  drive  to-day. 
A  boy  brought  it  after  me, 
and  just  when  I  remembered 
I  hadn't  got  it  he  caught  me 
up  with  it.  He'd  only  brought 
it  three  hundred  yards  down- 
hill, but  I  hadn't  got  small 
change,  and  I  gave  him  a  five- 
bob  bit  I'd  got  in  change  some- 


where :  you  don't  see  many 
about  now.  He  fingered  it  and 
looked  at  it,  and  I  was  going 
to  move  on,  when  he  took  my 
arm  and  said,  '  Ye're  right 
welcome,  mister,  to  carryin' 
yer  bag,  an'  there's  no  need  to 
be  overpayin'  for  it.  It's  no 
worth  more'n  a  bob,  and  I'll 
get  ye  change.'  He  did,  too, 
and  shook  hands  when  he  said 
good  night.  He'll  never  make 
a  fortune  in  tips,  but  he'll  keep 
his  self-respect,  that  lad." 

"  Aye,  he's  keeper's  son,  that 
lad.  He's  been  well  raised. 
But  what  you're  discovering 
up  here,  sailor,  isn't  anything 
new.  It's  just  that  there's  no 
Celtic  or  Mediterranean  blood 
in  this  district.  We're  not  a 
mixed  breed  here." 

"  What  are  you,  then  ?  " 
Bates  chuckled.  "  Damned 
if  I  know.  I  don't  think  the 
Eomans  interfered  here  much. 
There's  no  sign  of  Italian  breed- 
ing, anyway ;  but,  then,  the 
Eomans  were  pretty  mixed  up 
themselves  by  the  time  they 
got  here.  I  don't  think  the 
modern  Italian  can  be  much 
like  them.  The  gipsies  in  this 
country  don't  breed  outside 
their  clan,  and  that  leaves 
Danes  and  Northmen  generally 
to  account  for  us,  with  a  chance 
of  the  original  inhabitants  mix- 
ing in." 

"  Original  inhabitants  mean- 
ing Celts  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  Was  neolithic  man 
a  Celt  ?  I  doubt  it.  Besides, 
the  early  inhabitants  were  too 
near  savages  to  have  interbred 
with  the  invaders.  They  either 
died  or  bolted  into  Wales." 


808 


Heather  Mixture. 


[Dec. 


Dicky  was  pricking  his  ears  ; 
he  wanted  to  hear  this  curious 
company  talk.  They  all, 
whether  they  came  from  pala- 
tial offices  or  from  stable- 
yards,  seemed  to  take  not  only 
a  great  interest  in  matters 
which  are  usually  considered 
rather  heavy  reading,  but  were 
usually  able  to  bring  out  some 
startlingly  fresh  point  of  view. 
Bates  and  Chapman  argued 
awhile  over  Danes,  Norsemen, 
and  Saxons,  and  then  Hanlan 
suddenly  broke  in. 

"Eh,  Clem— ah'm  thinkin' 
ye'er  reet  aboot  they  Eomans. 
They  weren't  Italians  at  arl. 
See,  now ;  wheer  d'ye  see 
Italians  wi'oot  black  hair ! 
Nowheer.  Well,  now ;  tak' 
t'statues  o'  Eoman  consuls  and 
suchlike — curly  beards  an'  curly 
hair.  Ef  you'd  to  put  one  o' 
they  statues  in  colour  you'd 
only  mak'  it  reet  one  way. 
Bed — like  a  Hielander.  Ah'm 
thinkin'  the  old  Eomans  were 


big  men  wi'  fair  or  red  or  brown 
hair,  wi'  faces  like  you  or  me, 
likely.  What  race  to-day,  now, 
were  t'Eomans  like  f  I  tell 
ye  their  roads  an'  army  an' 
works  were  just  German,  an' 
they  had  t 'brains  o'  Germans. 
Not  by  breedin',  mind  ye,  but 
by  natur'.  Ah  say,  t'Germans 
and  t'Eomans  came  fra'  same 
stock  a  while  back." 

"  And  that's  a  fact,  but  you'll 
have  to  ask  Adam  and  Eve 
about  it.  Come  nearer  home, 
man.  Now  you're  a  Scandi- 
navian yourself.  ..." 

The  argument  spread,  and 
began  to  travel  in  a  circle. 
Chapman  nudged  Dicky  and 
got  up. 

"  Bed,  chaps,"  he  said. 
"  We're  both  catching  t'early 
train  an'  you  aren't."  Through 
a  volley  of  expostulation  and 
derisive  taunts  on  their  in- 
ability to  stand  the  pressure 
of  late  conviviality,  the  two 
escaped  upstairs. 


(To  be  continued.) 


1921.] 


809 


SOME   TKIBULATIONS  OF  A  PUBLIC  SEBVANT. 


THE  '  Diary '  of  Samuel 
Pepys  needs  no  introduction. 
But  perhaps  its  reputation  as 
a  record  of  manners  and  cus- 
toms has  a  little  overshadowed 
the  interest  of  some  scattered 
passages  that  strike  a  deeper 
note.  Yet  surely  never,  before 
or  since,  has  a  public  servant 
revealed  his  mind  so  completely, 
or  given  so  simple  an  account 
of  the  proceedings  in  his  office, 
and  of  the  private  views  and 
motives  of  himself  and  his 
colleagues. 

Let  us  glance  for  a  moment 
at  the  man,  and  at  the  setting 
in  which  he  lived.  He  was 
the  son  of  a  retired  tailor,  and 
his  brother  was  carrying  on 
the  business.  He  was  also  a 
second  cousin  of  his  friend  and 
patron,  the  Earl  of  Sandwich. 
He  had  been  educated  at  St 
Paul's  School  and  at  Cam- 
bridge. He  was  twenty-seven 
years  old  when,  in  1660,  he 
began  his  diary,  a  married  man 
with  a  small  post  but  no  private 
means,  only  a  career  opening 
before  him.  In  that  year  he 
was  made  "  Clerk  of  the  Acts 
of  the  Navy,"  an  appointment 
which  he  received  from  the 
new  Lord  High  Admiral,  the 
Duke  of  York.  Acting  with 
him  were  Commissioners,  a 
Treasurer,  a  Surveyor,  and 
a  Comptroller,  all  of  them 
his  superiors  in  age  and 
standing.  They  had  charge 
of  all  civil  business  connected 
with  the  Navy,  but  were 


distinct  from  the  Admiralty 
Office.  They  had  an  office  in 
Seething  Lane,  and  adjoining 
it  were  two  or  more  official 
residences,  of  which  Pepys  had 
one,  and  also  a  garden  and  a 
yard. 

Their  personal  connection 
with  the  Duke  of  York,  who 
was  the  King's  brother  and 
heir,  while  it  strengthened  the 
position  of  the  Navy  Board, 
involved  it  more  or  less  in  the 
discordant  political  atmosphere 
of  the  Court  and  Parliament. 
England  was  then  in  a  state 
of  transition  with  regard  to  the 
principles  and  practices  of  gov- 
ernment. She  was  ahead  of 
the  other  countries  of  Europe, 
and  was  working  out,  half 
unconsciously,  a  fundamental 
change,  first  in  the  point  of 
view  as  between  governors  and 
governed,  and  then  in  practical 
details  of  government.  What 
made  those  days  so  difficult, 
and  often  so  hopeless  and 
miserable  for  any  honest  man 
who  had  to  do  with  public 
business,  was  the  shapelessness 
and  uncertainty  in  the  organi- 
sation of  the  public  services. 
Old  methods  were  inadequate, 
and  had  not  been  recast.  As 
poor  Mr  Pepys  repeatedly  says, 
everything  was  being  misman- 
aged, and  everybody  expected 
that  the  country  would  fall  to 
pieces.  Fanaticism,  religious 
or  political,  had  had  its  fling, 
and  been  rudely  disillusioned, 
but  honest  convictions  remained 


810 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


[Dec. 


and    were    being    tested    and 
balanced. 

Pepys  never  thought  of  him- 
self as  a  public  servant,  but 
as  the  servant  of  the  King. 
It  was  his  business  to  see  that 
the  King  was  not  cheated,  and 
that  his  honour  was  upheld. 
It  was  difficult,  because  the 
King  would  not  "  play  the 
game,"  would  not  identify  him- 
self with  anything  that  was 
done.  He  took  warning  from 
the  fate  of  his  father,  kept  his 
principles,  if  he  had  any,  to 
himself,  except  on  very^  rare 
occasions,  and  refused  to  be 
drawn  into  any  conflict  with 
anybody,  by  the  simple  expe- 
dient of  good-natured  trifling. 
No  one  expected  the  Parlia- 
ment to  rule  the  country  or 
take  responsibility  for  the  de- 
tails of  public  service,  and  it 
had  not  the  machinery  to  do 
it.  Nominally  it  held  the 
purse-strings,  but  the  King's 
party  was  expected  to  have  a 
voice  in  deciding  by  what  taxes 
the  sum  voted  was  to  be  raised. 
Ministers  were  appointed  by 
the  King.  "  Government  " 
never  borrowed  money.  The 
older  plan  of  the  King  borrow- 
ing money  from  his  subjects, 
collectively  or  individually,  still 
obtained.  His  servants  did  it 
in  his  name,  but  for  large  sums 
he  was  expected  to  do  it  him- 
self. It  was  the  only  way  to 
get  cash  while  the  taxes  were 
being  voted  and  raised.  Some- 
times it  was  refused,  which 
was  a  horrid  disgrace,  an  un- 
heard-of slight  to  the  Crown, 
and  a  grievous  trouble  to  the 
officials  concerned.  Questions 


of  peace  or  war,  and  foreign 
policy  generally,  were  altogether 
in  the  hands  of  the  King,  but 
public  opinion  mattered.  There 
again,  everything  was  vague. 
Public  opinion  had  no  clear 
means  of  expressing  itself  till 
it  exploded  in  riots  or  rebellion, 
or,  on  the  other  hand,  refused 
to  explode  when  invited  to  do 
so.  The  people  had  fallen  back 
on  the  time-honoured  institu- 
tion of  Eoyalty,  more  elastic 
than  any  newly-hatched  system 
of  government,  and  therefore 
better  for  a  transitional  stage 
of  national  development ;  but 
"  Eoyal  Prerogative  "  was  still 
a  phrase  that  was  like  a  red 
rag  to  a  bull  for  many  thought- 
ful Englishmen. 

Meanwhile,  men  of  action 
consoled  themselves  by  satis- 
fying their  personal  desires  and 
instincts.  Traders  made  money, 
intellectuals  gave  free  vent  to 
their  curiosity,  and  they  all 
flung  themselves  with  enor- 
mous zest  into  that  joie  de 
vivre  which  has  hall-marked 
the  Eestoration  period.  Like  a 
true  sound  Englishman,  Pepys 
did  the  best  he  could  for  his 
office,  often  feeling  "  quite 
mad  "  over  the  difficulties  of 
his  position  and  the  errors  of 
his  fellow-officials  ;  and  then 
put  it  all  out  of  his  head,  and 
went  off  after  his  own  devices, 
till  he  found  occasion  to  do 
another  stroke  of  work. 

Foreign  countries  were  not 
slow  to  take  advantage  of  this 
disorganisation  in  England.  On 
6th  September  1664  Pepys  notes 
how  the  Duke  of  York,  his 
chief,  "  did  receive  the  Dutch 


1921.] 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


811 


Embassador  the  other  day,  by 
telling  him  that,  whereas  they 
think  us  in  jest,  he  did  not 
doubt  to  live  to  see  them  as 
fearful  of  provoking  the  Eng- 
lish, under  the  government  of 
a  King,  as  he  remembers  them 
to  have  been  under  that  of  a 
Coquin." 

But  the  lack  of  organisation 
told  both  ways.  There  was 
easier  scope  for  personal  enter- 
prise. If  any  competent  man 
wanted  to  do  anything,  espe- 
cially abroad,  he  gained  the 
confidence  of  a  few  friends, 
and,  in  person  or  by  proxy, 
they  pestered  the  sovereign  till 
they  got  a  charter — a  parch- 
ment authorising  a  given  per- 
son to  go  in  the  King's  name 
to  a  portion  of  the  world, 
vaguely  specified,  and  do  what 
he  could  there.  Then  they 
acquired  a  ship  or  two,  and 
went.  The  Dutch  claimed  to 
have  bought  the  charter  of 
the  settlement  that  is  now 
New  York,  as  one  might  buy 
a  title-deed,  and  they  had  re- 
named the  place  the  New 
Netherlands.  We  read  in  Pepys 
diary,  29th  September  1664 : 
"  Fresh  news  come  of  our 
beating  the  Dutch  quite  out 
of  their  castles  almost,  at 
Guinny,  which  will  make  them 
quite  mad  here  at  home,  sure. 
Nay,  they  say  that  we  have 
beat  them  out  of  the  New 
Netherlands,  too  ;  so  that  we 
have  been  doing  them  mischief 
for  a  great  while  in  several 
parts  of  the  world,  without 
public  knowledge  or  reason." 
For  we  were  not  at  war  with 
Holland !  But  he  notes,  on 

VOL.    COX. — NO.   MCCLXXIV. 


1st  October,  "  We  go  on  now 
with  vigour  in  preparing  against 
the  Dutch,  who,  they  say,  will 
now  fall  upon  us  without  doubt, 
upon  this  high  news  come 
of  our  beating  them  so  wholly 
in  Guinny."  Public  opinion  was 
excited,  and  took  practical 
form.  26th  October:  "The 
City  did  last  night  very  freely 
lend  the  King  £100,000,  with- 
out any  security  but  the 
King's  word,  which  was  very 
noble." 

In  November  news  came  of 
the  capture  of  the  Dutch  Bor- 
deaux fleet,  eighteen  or  twenty 
merchantmen,  escorted  by  two 
men-of-war.  The  seizing  of 
merchantmen  was  not,  techni- 
cally, an  act  of  war.  They 
were  civilians,  playing  light- 
heartedly,  between  themselves, 
at  catch -who -catch -can  ;  but 
ships  of  war  were  the  property 
of  the  State,  and  it  seemed 
that  the  taking  of  them  must 
necessarily  lead  to  a  war. 
Touches  such  as  this  show  the 
mediaeval  attitude  of  mind 
that  was  passing,  but  in  prac- 
tice still  existed.  The  State 
was  not  the  People,  though  in 
thought  and  emotion,  and  even 
in  words,  the  two  terms  often 
stood  for  the  same  ideal.  In- 
cidentally, we  learn  that  this 
taking  of  the  Bordeaux  fleet 
"  arose,  it  seems,  from  a  printed 
Gazette  of  the  Dutch's,  boasting 
of  fighting,  and  having  beaten 
the  English :  in  confidence 
whereof,  it  coming  to  Bour- 
deaux,  all  the  fleet  comes  out, 
and  so  falls  into  our  hands." 

Meanwhile,  Mr  Pepys  was 
busying  himself  over  the  pre- 
2  02 


812 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


[Dec. 


parations.  9th  November : 
"  Called  up,  as  I  had  appointed, 
between  two  and  three  o'clock. 
By  water  with  a  gaily  down  to 
the  Hope.  Got  thither  by 
eight  o'clock,  and  found  the 
Charles,  her  main-mast  setting. 
Commissioner  Pett  aboard.  I 
up  and  down  to  see  the  ship 
I  was  so  well  acquainted  with, 
and  a  great  work  it  is,  the 
setting  so  great  a  mast.  Thence 
the  Commissioner  and  I  to 
Sir  G.  Ascue,  on  board  the 
Henery.  He  lacks  men  mightily, 
nor  do  I  think  he  hath  much  of 
a  sea-man  in  him  :  for  he  told 
me,  says  he,  Here-to-fore,  we 
used  to  find  our  ships  clear 
and  ready,  every  thing  to  our 
hands  in  the  Downes.  Now  I 
come,  and  must  look  to  see 
things  done  like  a  slave — 
things  that  I  never  minded, 
nor  cannot  look  after.  And 
by  his  discourse  I  find  that  he 
hath  not  minded  anything  in 
her  at  all." 

It  was  the  business  of  a  com- 
mander to  get  his  own  men  as 
far  as  possible,  and  as  Sir  G. 
Ascue  had  been  employed  be- 
fore in  the  Navy,  it  was  hoped 
that  he  would  have  had  an 
ample  following.  One  old  com- 
mander, Sir  Christopher  Mings, 
was  so  popular  with  his  men 
that  after  his  death  in  one  of 
the  naval  battles,  a  body  of 
them  attended  his  funeral,  and 
stopped  the  coach  in  which 
the  high  officers  of  the  Navy 
Board  were  coming  away,  to  ask 
for  a  fire-ship,  that  they  might 
go  out  together  and  avenge 
him  on  the  Dutch,  giving  their 
lives,  as  that  was  all  they  had 


to  offer,  "  we  that  have  long 
known,  and  loved,  and  served 
our  dead  commander." 

On  12th  November  there 
was  a  Council  at  Whitehall: 
"Where,  a  great  many  lords. 
But,  Lord  !  to  see  what  work 
they  will  make  us  ;  and  what 
trouble  we  shall  have,  to  in- 
form men  in  a  business  they 
are  to  begin  to  know,  when 
the  greatest  of  our  hurry  is." 
15th  November :  "So  home, 
and  late,  very  late,  at  business, 
nobody  minding  it  but  myself, 
and  so  home  to  bed,  weary 
and  full  of  thoughts."  22nd 
November  :  "To  my  lord  Trea- 
surer's ;  where  studying  all  we 
could  to  make  the  last  year's 
expense  swell  as  high  as  we 
could.  And  it  is  much  to  see 
how  he  do  study  for  the  King 
to  do  it,  to  get  all  the  money 
from  the  Parliament  he  can : 
and  I  shall  be  serviceable  to 
him  therein,  to  help  him  to 
heads  upon  which  to  enlarge 
the  report  of  the  expense.  He 
did  observe  to  me  how  obedient 
this  Parliament  was  for  a  while  ; 
and  the  last  session  how  they 
began  to  differ,  and  to  carp  at 
the  King's  officers." 

On  24th  November  Parlia- 
ment met.  On  the  25th  Pepys 
writes  :  "At  my  office  all  the 
morning,  to  prepare  an  account 
of  the  charge  we  have  been 
put  to,  extraordinary,  by  the 
Dutch  already ;  and  I  have 
brought  it  to  appear  £852,700  : 
but  God  knows,  this  is  only  a 
scare  to  the  Parliament,  to 
make  them  give  the  more 
money."  Later  in  the  day  he 
heard  that — "  The  House  have 


1921.] 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


813 


given  the  King  £2,500,000,  to 
be  paid  for  this  war,  only  for 
the  Navy,  in  three  years'  time  : 
which  is  a  joyful  thing  to  all 
the  King's  party,  but  was  much 
opposed  by  others."  In  the 
following  February  the  King 
"  met  the  Houses,"  to  pass 
"  this  great  bill  for  £2,500,000." 

The  money  had  been  voted, 
and  for  a  few  weeks  things 
went  well.  Then  began  again 
the  constantly  recurring  diffi- 
culty of  getting  cash  or  credit 
to  meet  the  daily  expenses  of 
ships  and  dockyards.  The  Navy 
officials  went  to  the  Lord  Trea- 
surer, "  and  there  did  lay  open 
the  expense  for  the  six  months 
past,  and  an  estimate  for  the 
seven  months  to  come,  to 
November  next ;  the  first  aris- 
ing to  above  £500,000,  and  the 
latter  will,  as  we  judge,  come 
to  above  £1,000,000.  But  to 
see  how  my  Lord  Treasurer 
did  bless  himself,  crying  he 
would  do  no  more  than  he 
could,  nor  give  more  money 
than  he  had,  if  the  occasion 
and  expense  were  never  so 
great."  "  Which  is  but  a  bad 
story,"  comments  ruefully  the 
Clerk  of  the  Acts. 

But  worse  was  to  come.  On 
7th  April  "  Sir  P.  Warwick  did 
show  me  nakedly  the  King's 
condition  for  money  for  the 
Navy  ;  and  he  do  assure  me, 
unless  the  King  can  get  some 
noblemen,  or  rich  money-gentle- 
man to  lend  him  money,  or  to 
get  the  City  to  do  it,  it  is 
impossible  to  find  money  :  we 
having  already,  as  he  says, 
spent  one  year's  share  of  the 
three  years'  tax."  On  the 


12th  they  again  met  the  Lord 
Treasurer,  with  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor and  the  Duke  of  Albe- 
marle,  acting  Lord  High  Ad- 
miral, while  the  Duke  of  York 
commanded  the  Fleet ;  and 
these,  says  Pepys,  "  I  did  give 
them  a  large  account  of  the 
charge  of  the  Navy,  and  want 
of  money.  But  strange  to  see 
how  they  hold  up  their  hands, 
crying  '  What  shall  we  do  ?  ' 
Says  my  lord  Treasurer,  '  Why, 
what  means  all  this,  Mr  Pepys  1 
This  is  all  true  you  say  ;  but 
what  would  you  have  me  to 
do  ?  I  have  given  all  I  can, 
for  my  life.  Why  will  not 
people  lend  their  money  ?  Why 
will  they  not  trust  the  King, 
as  well  as  Oliver  [Cromwell, 
the  late  Protector].  Why  do 
our  Prizes  come  to  nothing, 
that  yielded  so  much  hereto- 
fore ?  '  And  this  was  all  we 
could  get,  and  went  away 
without  other  answer  :  which 
is  one  of  the  saddest  things  ; 
that  at  such  a  time  as  this, 
with  the  greatest  action  on 
foot  that  ever  was  in  England, 
nothing  should  be  minded,  but 
let  things  go  on  of  themselves, 
and  do  as  well  as  they  can. 
So  home,  vexed."  (And  con- 
soled himself  by  having  a 
hearty  romp  with  a  merry 
party  of  women  and  children 
at  the  house  of  one  of  his  col- 
leagues.) The  fixed  rate  of 
interest  on  money  lent  to  the 
King  for  Government  services 
was  10  per  cent.  Pepys  often 
lent  some  hundreds  of  pounds. 
Sometimes  he  got  it  back,  but 
a  sum  of  £28,007,  2s.  IJd..  was 
still  owing  to  him  when  he  left 


814 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


[Dec. 


the   office,   and  he   never   got 
that  back. 

On  this  occasion  some  money 
was  evidently  found.  A  fort- 
night afterwards  Pepys  was  in 
high  favour.  The  Lord  High 
Admiral  took  him  to  walk  an 
hour  alone  with  him  in  his 
garden — "  Where  he  expressed 
in  great  words  his  opinion  of 
me  ;  that  I  was  the  right  hand 
of  the  Navy  here,  nobody  but 
I  taking  care  of  anything  there- 
in ;  so  that  he  should  not  know 
what  could  be  done  without 
me.  At  which  I  was,  from  him, 
not  a  little  proud."  With  re- 
newed energy  he  went  off,  on 
28th  April,  down  the  river, 
"  to  visit  the  victualling  ships, 
where  I  find  all  out  of  order. 
And  come  home  to  dinner,  and 
then  to  write  a  letter  to  the 
D.  of  Albemarle  about  them, 
and  carried  it  myself  to  the 
Council  Chamber  ;  and  when 
they  rose,  my  lord  Chancellor, 
passing  by,  stroked  me  on  the 
head,  and  told  me  that  the 
Board  had  read  my  letter,  and 
taken  order  for  the  punishing 
of  the  water-men  for  not  ap- 
pearing on  board  the  ships." 

Meanwhile,  on  4th  March, 
war  had  been  formally  pro- 
claimed at  the  Exchange.  Our 
fleet  went  out,  106  ships,  caught 
eight  merchantmen,  and  came 
back.  Then  the  Dutch  came 
out,  "  well-manned,  and  re- 
solved to  board  our  best  ships  ; 
and  fight,  for  certain,  they 
will."  They  were  about  a 
hundred  men-of-war,  besides 
fire-ships.  Our  fleet  was  at 
anchor,  but  "  spied  them  at 
sea  "  and  attacked.  On  3rd 


June  guns  were  heard  all  day 
on  the  river,  but  there  was  no 
news  certain  till  the  8th,  and 
the  suspense  was  great.  On 
the  8th  a  messenger  arrived 
with  details  of  a  victory, 
"  which  did  put  me  in  such 
joy,"  says  Pepys,  "  that  I 
forgot  almost  all  other  thoughts. 
A  greater  victory  never  known 
in  the  world.  Home,  with  my 
heart  full  of  joy.  Had  a  great 
bonfire  at  the  gate  :  so  home 
to  bed,  with  my  heart  at  great 
rest  and  quiet."  Our  loss  was 
200  dead,  and  about  600 
wounded. 

The  fleet  came  back  to  enjoy 
their  triumph  and  to  refit. 
Having  done  their  first  duty 
of  driving  in  the  Dutch  battle 
fleet,  they  devoted  themselves 
for  the  rest  of  the  season  to 
the  task  of  annexing  Dutch 
merchantmen.  The  East  India 
fleet  came  in  every  summer, 
laden  with  untold  riches.  In 
August  news  came  that  this 
had  circled  round  and  was  at 
Bergen  in  Norway.  We  sent 
a  squadron  to  seize  them  there, 
but  it  came  back  discomfited : 
"  It  being  a  place,"  as  Lord 
Sandwich,  the  Admiral,  after- 
wards explained,  "  just  wide 
enough,  and  not  so  much, 
hardly,  for  ships  to  go  through 
to  it,  the  yard-arms  sticking 
in  the  very  rocks." 

Pepys  worked  feverishly  to 
get  the  damages  repaired.  All 
the  high  officials  of  the  Board 
were  out  of  town  on  account 
of  the  Plague  ;  but  he  pursued 
them,  to  report  news,  and  to 
confer  about  ways  and  means. 
He  did  not  then  keep  his  own 


1921.] 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


815 


coach  or  horses,  and  public 
transport  was  disorganised  by 
the  Plague,  but  he  got  about 
how  he  could.  Once  he  was 
lost  at  night  in  Windsor  Forest. 
Another  time,  "  it  being  a  most 
rainy  afternoon  and  I  forced 
to  go  on  foot,  was  almost  wet 
to  the  skin,  and  spoiled  my 
silk  breeches  almost."  In  the 
middle  of  the  night  he  inter- 
viewed the  Treasurer  of  the 
Navy  in  bed,  himself  receiv- 
ing the  Treasurer  in  bed  next 
morning,  before  he  set  off  to 
catch  some  one  else.  Before 
the  end  of  the  month  the  fleet 
was  ready  again,  "  for  which 
God  be  praised." 

A  fortnight  of  suspense  fol- 
lowed, with  conflicting  rumours. 
Then,  the  Dutchmen  being  truly 
on  their  way  home,  Lord  Sand- 
wich made  a  successful  dash 
and  caught  thirty  or  forty  of 
them,  to  the  great  satisfaction 
of  everybody.  No  more  was 
expected  of  the  fleet  for  that 
year,  or,  at  least,  nothing  more 
was  done. 

All  this  time  the  Great  Plague 
was  raging.  Thousands  died 
of  it  every  week  in  London 
alone.  Men  were  stricken  and 
died  in  a  few  hours,  and  it  was 
terribly  infectious.  Our  friend 
sent  his  wife  out  of  town,  made 
his  will,  and  stuck  to  his  job  : 
frightened  often,  but  shirking 
never.  By  December  it  had 
abated,  and  he  was  able  to 
bring  back  his  wife. 

That  winter  saw  the  begin- 
ning of  another  set  of  worries. 
Lord  Sandwich,  his  own  special 
friend  and  patron,  one  of  the 
greatest  men  of  the  day,  got 


into  trouble  over  the  Dutch 
prizes  that  he,  the  admiral  in 
command,  had  brought  in.  He 
thought  it  a  good  idea  to  take 
£2000  or  £3000  worth  of  goods 
from  the  cargo  of  an  East 
Indiaman,  to  be  paid  for  when 
the  King  should  pay  him, 
observing  to  Pepys  that  it  was 
easier  to  keep  money  when 
got  than  to  get  it  when  it  is 
too  late.  Pepys  saw  it  at  first 
in  the  same  light,  and  proposed 
to  his  Board  that  they  should 
do  the  same,  to  provide  ready 
money  for  the  needs  of  sick 
men  and  prisoners.  The  Board 
agreed,  but  even  then  Pepys 
reflected, ' '  What  inconveniences 
may  arise  from  it  I  do  not  yet 
see,  but  fear  there  may  be 
many." 

He  and  a  certain  Captain 
Cocke  went  down  to  the  fleet, 
and  "  after  a  good  while  in 
discourse  did  agree  to  a  bar- 
gain of  £5000  for  my  lord  Sand- 
wich, for  silk,  cinnamon,  nut- 
meggs,  and  indigo,  and  I  was 
near  signing  to  an  undertaking 
for  the  payment  of  the  whole 
sum,  but  did  not,  reflecting 
upon  the  craft,  and  not  good 
condition  may  be,  of  Capt. 
Cocke."  Then  the  goods  ar- 
rived in  waggons,  and  it  was 
proposed  to  store  them  in  the 
office  ;  "  but  the  thoughts  of 
its'  being  the  King's  house 
altered  our  resolution,"  and 
they  were  deposited  in  the 
house  of  a  friend,  Pepys  sleep- 
ing there  to  guard  them.  The 
master  was  away,  and  the 
servants  were  ill,  perhaps  with 
Plague,  and  his  mind  was  full 
of  misgivings.  He  was  to  get 


816 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


[Dec. 


a  commission  of  £500  on  the 
job,  and  he  says  he  was  "  in 
some  pain,  not  knowing  what 
to  do  in  this  business,  having  a 
mind  to  be  at  a  certainty  in 
my  profit."  "  The  great  bur- 
den we  have  upon  us  at  this 
time  at  the  office,  is  the  pro- 
viding for  prisoners,  and  sick 
men  that  are  recovered,  they 
lying  before  our  office  doors 
all  night  and  all  day,  poor 
wretches.  Having  been  on 
shore,  the  Captains  won't  re- 
ceive them  on  board  (for  fear 
of  infection)  and  other  ships 
we  have  not,  to  put  them  on, 
nor  money  to  pay  them  off, 
or  provide  for  them.  God  re- 
move this  difficulty"  (30th 
September  1665). 

One  finds  oneself  wondering 
how  such  things  could  be. 
Pepys  was  an  extremely  com- 
petent man,  and  he  is  still 
acknowledged  to  have  done 
good  work  in  the  organisation 
of  the  Navy.  He  was  loved 
and  respected  by  some  of  the 
best  men  of  the  day,  in  vari- 
ous walks  of  life  ;  and  he  was 
certainly  not  below  the  stand- 
ard of  his  time  in  uprightness 
or  in  kindness  of  heart.  What 
were  they  all  thinking  about 
to  let  such  things  happen  ? 

The  odd  state  of  affairs 
about  ready  money  was  at 
the  bottom  of  a  good  deal  of 
it.  If  any  one  had  a  sum  of 
money,  and  a  great  position, 
it  seemed  to  ooze  from  him 
at  every  pore  as  a  matter  of 
necessity.  He  had  to  have  a 
great  household,  quantities  of 
hangers-on,  everything  of  the 
best,  and  to  lend  and  give 


without  counting.  So  long  as 
his  sum  of  money  lasted,  he 
paid ;  then  he  borrowed,  his 
retinue  and  his  hangers-on  run- 
ning him  into  debt  on  all  sides, 
regardless  of  consequences. 
Sooner  or  later  he  found  him- 
self in  great  straits.  Lord 
Pembroke's  underlings  cheated 
the  public  purse,  and  Pepys 
remarks  on  the  "  inconvenience 
of  having  a  great  man,  though 
never  so  seeming  pious.  He 
is  too  great  to  be  called  to 
account,  and  is  abused  by  his 
servants,  and  yet  obliged  to 
defend  them,  for  his  own  sake  " 
(10th  October  1664).  And  the 
poor  servants,  if  they  were  not 
able  to  cheat,  had  sometimes 
nothing  to  live  upon. 

It  was  so  with  the  King, 
the  Court,  and  all  the  public 
offices.  They  paid,  when  the 
cash  came  in,  whatever  seemed 
most  necessary,  and  whoever 
was  most  powerfully  impor- 
tunate. Careful  people,  like 
our  friend  Pepys,  who  wanted 
to  make  provision  for  a  respect- 
able old  age,  could  not  secure 
their  money  as  we  do.  There 
was  no  Bank  of  England,  no 
Stock  Exchange,  no  regular 
fixed  incomes  from  stocks  and 
shares.  They  invested  their 
money  privately  in  commercial 
ventures.  (Pepys  at  one  time 
got  a  ship  with  a  few  friends 
and  brought  a  cargo  of  coal  to 
London,  foreseeing  that  the 
price  would  go  up.)  Or  they 
lent  it,  at  a  good  rate  of  in- 
terest, with  or  without  some 
sort  of  private  security.  They 
were  always  being  urged  to 
lend  it  to  the  King  for  the 


1921.] 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


817 


Government  services,  but  that 
was  the  worst  security  of  all. 
Between  times  they  kept  it 
in  the  cellar,  or  buried  it.  Of 
course,  debts  are  dishonest, 
and  hole-and-corner  work  is 
disgraceful ;  but  there  is  noth- 
ing incomprehensible  about  the 
scrapes  of  these  men,  whose 
only  possible  investments  were 
so  uncertain,  and  who  lived 
in  an  atmosphere  of  universal 
debt. 

There  was  a  horrid  scandal 
over  the  prize-money  that  Lord 
Sandwich  and  his  underlings 
had  embezzled.  Customs  offi- 
cers came  and  claimed  the 
goods,  but  were  repulsed.  The 
King  gave  Lord  Sandwich  full 
authority  for  what  he  had  done, 
but  Parliament  objected.  Time 
after  time  the  question  was 
apparently  disposed  of,  and 
then  brought  up  again.  There 
was  a  constitutional  principle 
at  eftake,  and  personal  enmity 
and  party  spirit  did  the  rest. 
"  My  lord  is  very  meanly 
spoken  of,"  writes  Pepys,  "  and 
indeed,  his  miscarriage  about 
the  Prize-goods  is  not  to  be 
excused,  to  suffer  a  company 
of  rogues  to  go  away  with  ten 
times  as  much  as  himself,  and 
the  blame  of  all  to  be  deservedly 
laid  upon  him."  But  he  was 
whitewashed :  sent  as  ambas- 
sador to  Spain,  where  he  did 
well ;  and  finally  given  com- 
mand again  in  the  Navy  and 
killed  in  the  battle  of  Sole 
Bay,  the  truth  being  that  he 
was  a  valuable  man.  He  was 
not  more  immoral  than  the 
others,  and  he  was  more  cap- 
able than  most.  He  was  on 


that  very  slippery  slope,  the 
debatable  ground  between  the 
thing  that  is  never  done  and 
the  thing  you  can  always  do, 
where  wise  men  never  go  and 
upright  men  never  stay.  He 
got  off  it.  It  exists  still,  but 
the  boundaries  change  from 
one  generation  to  another. 

Pepys  found  to  his  satisfac- 
tion that  he  had  won  a  personal 
place  for  himself,  and  could 
stand  on  his  feet  in  his  office 
even  if  his  patron  fell,  but  he 
was  grieved  for  the  friend  he 
had  always  respected  and  cared 
for.  His  Board  was  looked 
upon  suspiciously,  and  as  the 
months  went  by  fell  deeper 
and  deeper  into  disgrace.  They 
were  continually  harassed  by 
the  Parliament  men,  who  would 
not  get  on  with  supply  till 
awkward  questions  had  been 
answered  and  accounts  ex- 
plained. Money  shortage  went 
from  bad  to  worse,  and  the 
sailors  were  not  properly  fed, 
or  clothed,  or  paid.  How- 
ever, by  the  end  of  May  1666 
two  fleets  were  out  again,  one 
under  Prince  Eupert,  the  other 
under  the  Duke  of  Albemarle. 
News  came  of  a  victory,  and 
there  was  delirious  joy,  but 
later  there  were  unsatisfactory 
details,  and  many  disgraceful 
rumours  and  recriminations.  It 
had  been  a  drawn  battle,  and 
our  losses  were  heavy  in  ships, 
commanders,  and  men.  By 
this  time  we  were  also  at  war 
with  France,  and  an  invasion 
was  feared.  The  garrisons  on 
the  East  Coast  were  put  in 
order,  and  the  press-men  went 
vigorously  to  work,  catching 


818 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


[Dec. 


men,  sometimes  illegally,  and 
always  with  great  hardship, 
for  the  fleet.  Pepys  had  to  see 
about  the  payment  of  their 
press  money,  which  he  did  at 
last  out  of  his  own  pocket, 
none  being  forthcoming,  and 
tried  to  get  them  properly 
clothed  and  fed.  The  whole 
business  was  very  unpopular, 
which  perhaps  accounts  for  the 
situation  described  by  Pepys 
on  7th  July  :  "  The  Court  now 
begin  to  lie  long  in  bed ;  it 
being,  as  we  -  suppose,  not 
seemly  for  them  to  be  found 
playing  and  gaming  as  they 
used  to  be ;  nor  that  their 
minds  are  at  ease  enough  to 
follow  those  sports,  and  yet 
not  knowing  how  to  employ 
themselves.  There  is  nothing 
in  the  world  can  help  us  but 
the  King's  personal  looking 
after  his  business  and  his  offi- 
cers. With  that,  we  may  yet 
do  well ;  but  otherwise  must 
be  undone ;  nobody  at  this 
day  taking  care  of  anything, 
nor  hath  anybody  to  call  him 
to  account."  There  was  no 
discipline  in  the  fleet  either. 

In  the  beginning  of  Septem- 
ber the  city  of  London  was 
burnt  down,  one  of  the  great 
catastrophes  of  history.  Pepys 
helped  by  bringing  up  men 
from  the  dockyards  to  de- 
molish houses,  the  only  avail- 
able means  of  stopping  the 
fire.  He  put  his  own  goods  into 
a  place  of  safety,  and  buried 
the  office  papers,  with  his  wine 
and  his  parmesan  cheese,  in 
the  garden.  On  the  night  of 
the  6th  the  fire  seemed  to  be 
approaching,  so  he  took  his 


wife  and  household  and  his 
gold,  "  which  was  about  £2350," 
down  to  Woolwich  by  boat,  at 
about  two  in  the  morning,  got 
back  by  seven,  expecting  fully 
to  find  his  house  and  office 
burning,  and  found  to  his  joy 
that  the  blowing  up  of  houses 
by  the  dockyard  workmen  had 
at  last  stopped  the  fire  at  that 
end.  In  due  course  he  brought 
back  all  his  goods,  dug  up 
the  papers,  the  cheese  and  the 
wine,  and  reported  with  much 
satisfaction  in  his  diary  that 
nothing  had  been  lost  except 
two  little  sea-pictures,  nothing 
damaged  but  his  frames,  and 
that  when  all  was  rearranged 
his  house  was  cleaner  than  he 
had  ever  seen  it  almost. 

The  public  were  wonderfully 
calm,  overawed  perhaps  by 
the  extent  and  suddenness  of 
the  calamity,  but  there  were 
suspicions  of  a  plot,  and  a 
growing  sense  of  irritation  and 
insecurity  about  things  in  gen- 
eral. Pepys  went  on  steadily 
impressing  on  everybody  con- 
cerned the  need  of  ready  money 
and  careful  management  if 
abuses  and  failure  were  to  be 
prevented.  But  there  was  real 
misconduct.  "  We  must  mend 
our  manners,"  he  notes  on 
14th  October  1666,  "against 
the  next  trial,  and  mend  them 
we  will." 

The  trouble  was  not  confined 
to  naval  affairs  :  it  extended 
to  every  department  of  the 
State.  There  were  scares  of 
rioting.  He  sent  his  wife  to 
bury  some  of  his  money  in 
his  father's  garden  in  the  coun- 
try, thinking  it  would  be  safer 


1921.] 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


819 


there  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
his  clerk's  wife  came  up  from 
the  country  to  London,  being 
frightened  there  "  from  fear  of 
disorders."  On  10th  November 
he  says  :  "  This  is  the  fatal 
day  that  every  body  hath  dis- 
coursed for  a  long  time  to  be 
the  day  that  the  Papists,  or 
I  know  not  who,  have  designed 
to  commit  a  massacre  upon ; 
but,  however,  I  trust  in  God 
we  shall  rise  to-morrow  morning 
as  well  as  ever.  ...  It  is  said 
that  there  hath  been  a  design 
to  poison  the  King.  What  the 
meaning  of  all  these  sad  signs 
is,  the  Lord  only  knows  ;  but 
every  day  things  look  worse 
and  worse.  God  fit  us  for  the 
worst !  " 

In  December  there  were 
hopes  of  peace,  which  would 
dimmish  expenses,  and  there 
was  at  last  some  immediate 
prospect  of  money  coming  in, 
with  which,  if  the  King  could 
get  out  of  debt,  then,  says  our 
official,  "  He  will  neither  need 
this  nor  any  other  Parliament, 
till  he  can  have  one  to  his  mind ; 
for  no  Parliament  can,  as  he 
says,  be  kept  long  good,  but 
that  they  (the  Members)  will 
spoil  one  another,  and  that 
therefore  it  hath  been  the 
practice  of  Kings  to  tell  Parlia- 
ments what  he  hath  for  them 
to  do,  and  give  them  so  long 
time  to  do  it  in,  and  no 
longer."  Here  we  have  the 
old-fashioned  point  of  view  at 
that  time. 

On  19th  December  1666  he 
notes  incidentally  that  the 
King's  band  of  musicians  are 
many  of  them  ready  to  starve, 


"  they  being  five  years  behind- 
hand for  their  wages :  nay, 
Evens,  the  famous  man  upon 
the  Harp,  having  not  his  equal 
in  the  world,  did  the  other  day 
die  for  mere  want,  and  was 
fain  to  be  buried  at  the  alms 
of  the  parish."  There  was 
rioting  on  Tower  Hill  that  day, 
the  seamen  having  "  been  at 
some  prisons,  to  release  some 
seamen."  Soldiers  were  sent 
to  quell  them,  "  which  is  a 
thing  of  infinite  disgrace  to  us.'* 
He  had  a  long  talk  with  some 
fellow-officials  that  afternoon, 
and  one  of  them  "  did  make  me 
understand  how  the  House  of 
Commons  is  a  beast  not  to  be 
understood,  it  being  impossible 
to  know  beforehand  the  success 
almost  of  any  small  plain 
thing,  there  being  so  many 
to  think  and  speak  to  any 
business,  and  they  of  so  un- 
certain minds,  and  interests 
and  passions."  (Is  that  why 
we  of  the  twentieth  century 
are  under  the  dominion  of  a 
small  Cabinet  ?) 

The  Dutch  fleet  grew  bolder 
and  bolder,  till  at  last,  in  June 
1667,  they  sailed  up  the  Med- 
way,  broke  the  chain  at  Chat- 
ham, burned  several  of  our 
ships,  and  carried  off  one  of 
the  largest  —  a  marvellous 
achievement,  the  tide  being 
out.  We  had  burnt  one  of 
their  towns  the  year  before. 
Now,  apparently,  they  were 
ready  to  cry  quits,  and  on  the 
24th  August  1667  the  Peace  of 
Breda  was  proclaimed.  It  was 
an  inglorious  unpopular  peace, 
but  there  was  no  money  to 
carry  on  the  war. 


820 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


[Dec. 


The  next  great  business  was 
to  square  up  the  accounts  and 
get  money,  first  by  grant  from 
Parliament,  and  then  by  loan 
on  the  credit  of  it.  There  had 
been  trouble  about  this  for 
some  time.  Many  of  the  lead- 
ing naval  men  were  personally 
involved  in  the  bitterness  of 
party  politics,  and  also  the 
methods  of  the  Board  had 
been  various,  and  sometimes 
peculiar.  A  Committee  of  the 
House  that  had  been  appointed 
to  examine  the  accounts  was 
far  from  satisfied.  Another 
Committee  was  appointed  to 
inquire  into  "  the  miscarriages 
of  the  war."  Pepys  held  his 
own  with  them  better  than 
any  of  his  colleagues.  He  had 
more  knowledge  than  they  of 
the  details  of  what  had  been 
done.  He  had  been  more  dili- 
gent, and  perhaps  wiser  ;  but, 
above  all,  he  was  in  complete 
sympathy  with  those  who 
wanted  to  see  the  Navy  in 
better  working  order.  He  cared 
about  his  business  with  all  his 
heart,  and  by  degrees  he  was 
left  to  answer  alone  for  the 
Board. 

He  was  bothered  almost  out 
of  his  life.  He  had  himself 
done  things  that  looked  queer. 
At  one  time,  finding  that  the 
contractors  were  cheating  the 
King  in  the  matter  of  flags 
for  the  Navy,  he  had  taken  the 
business  into  his  own  hands, 
advanced  £500  of  his  own,  and 
cleared  over  £50  for  himself 
on  the  transaction.  "  And 
earned  it  with  due  pains  and 
care,  and  issuing  of  my  own 
money,  and  saved  the  King 


near  £100  on  it  "  (28th  January 
1665).  But  long  afterwards, 
on  25th  September  1666,  we 
read  that :  "  Looking  over  the 
book  that  Sir  G.  Carteret  in- 
tends to  deliver  to  the  Parlia- 
ment of  his  payments,  I  find 
my  name  the  very  second,  for 
flags,  which  I  had  bought  for 
the  Navy,  of  calico,  once, 
about  £500  and  odd  pounds, 
which  vexed  me  mightily.  At 
last  I  concluded  of  scraping 
out  my  name,  and  putting  in 
Mr  Tooker's,  which  eased  me, 
though  the  price  was  such  as 
I  should  have  had  glory  by." 

This  had  been  a  very  dis- 
tressful period.  On  2nd  Octo- 
ber 1666  "  the  Committee  met 
and  appointed  me  to  attend 
them  to-morrow,  to  examine 
our  lists.  This  put  me  into  a 
mighty  fear  and  trouble — they 
doing  it  in  a  very  ill  humour, 
methought.  When  come  home, 
I  to  Sir  W.  Pen's,  to  his  boy, 
for  my  book  and  there  find  he 
hath  it  not ;  but  delivered  it 
to  the  door-keeper  of  the  Com- 
mittee for  me.  This,  added  to 
my  former  disquiet,  made  me 
stark  mad,  considering  all  the 
nakedness  of  the  office  lay 
open,  in  papers  within  those 
covers.  But,  coming  to  our 
rendezvous  at  the  Swan  tavern, 
I  found  they  have  found  the 
house-keeper,  and  the  book 
simply  locked  up  in  the  Court." 
3rd  October:  "Waked  be- 
times, mightily  troubled  in 
mind,  and  in  the  most  true 
trouble  that  I  ever  was  in 
my  life — saving  in  the  business 
last  year  of  the  East  India 
prizes.  So  up  ;  and  by  and  by, 


1921.] 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


821 


by  eight  o'clock  comes  Birch, 
the  first,  with  the  list  and 
books  of  accounts  delivered 
in.  He  calls  me  to  work,  and 
there  he  and  I  begun."  Three 
other  Parliament  men  arrived 
and  set  to  work,  "  and  I  did 
make  shift  to  answer  them 
better  than  I  expected."  Three 
or  four  of  his  own  colleagues 
looked  in,  but  went  out  again, 
"  and  left  me  all  the  morning 
with  them  alone  to  stand  or 
fall.  After  dinner  to  work 
again,  only  the  Committee  and 
I,  till  dark  night ;  and  it 
ended  with  good  peace  and 
much  seeming  satisfaction  ;  but 
I  find  them  wise,  and  reserved, 
and  instructed  to  hit  all  our 
blots." 

This  was  a  typical  encounter, 
and  shows  the  spirit  in  which 
Pepys  met  his  critics.  During 
the  further  troubles  Birch  was 
his  friend,  "  who  is  very  kind 
to  me,  and  calls  me,  with 
great  respect  and  kindness,  a 
man  of  business,  and  he  thinks 
honest,  and  so  long  will  stand 
by  me,  and  every  such  man, 
to  the  death  "  (18th  February 
1667-8).  The  Treasurer  for  the 
Army,  Sir  Stephen  Fox,  con- 
fided to  him  his  secret  for 
managing  the  affairs  of  that 
branch  of  the  service.  He  said  : 
"  They  give  him  12d.  per  pound 
quite  through  the  Army,  with 
condition  to  be  paid  weekly. 
This  he  undertakes  upon  his 
own  private  credit,  and  to  be 
paid  by  the  King  at  the  end 
of  every  four  months.  If  the 
King  pay  him  not  at  the  end  of 
every  four  months,  then,  for 
all  the  time  he  stays  longer, 


my  Lord  Treasurer,  by  agree- 
ment, allows  him  eight  per 
cent  per  annum.  He  gains 
soundly,  his  expense  being 
about  £130,000  per  annum, 
and  hath  no  trouble  in  it, 
compared,"  says  Pepys,  "  to 
the  trouble  I  must  have  to 
bring  in  an  account  of  interest  " 
(16th  January  1666-7). 

The  more  their  accounts  were 
questioned,  and  the  longer  Par- 
liament delayed  about  the  de- 
tails of  taxes  by  which  money 
was  to  be  raised,  the  more 
reluctant  men  were  to  advance 
their  cash.  "  Sir  G.  Carteret 
asked  me  whether  £50  or  £60 
would  do  us  any  good ;  and 
when  I  told  him  the  very 
women  must  have  £200  he 
held  up  his  eyes  as  if  we  had 
asked  a  million.  The  Duke  of 
York  did  confess  that  he  did 
not  see  how  we  could  do  any- 
thing without  a  present  supply 
of  £20,000,  and  so  we  broke 
up,  and  all  parted.  Nothing 
but  distraction  and  confusion 
in  the  affairs  of  the  Navy ; 
which  makes  me  wish,  with  all 
my  heart,  that  I  were  well  and 
quietly  settled,  with  what  little 
I  have  got,  in  the  country, 
where  I  might  live  peaceably, 
and  study,  and  pray  for  the 
good  of  the  King  and  my 
country." 

He  was  continually  expect- 
ing to  be  turned  out,  but  he 
was  not.  The  climax  came  at 
last,  when  all  the  dirty  linen 
had  been  examined  and  the 
accounts  looked  into,  and  all 
the  Committees  and  Sub-Com- 
mittees and  Commissioners  had 
reported ;  and  Pepys,  in  the 


822 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


[Dec. 


name  of  his  Board,  was  sum- 
moned to  appear  at  the  Bar 
of  the  House  of  Commons, 
some  new  storm  having  arisen 
about  their  expedients  to  get 
money.  He  lay  awake  all 
night,  worrying  about  it,  till 
at  six  in  the  morning  he  got 
his  wife  to  talk  to  him  to 
comfort  him,  "  which  she  at 
last  did,"  with  a  castle  in  the 
air  about  his  retiring.  "  So, 
with  great  trouble,  but  yet 
with  some  ease  from  this  dis- 
course of  my  wife's,  I  up,  and 
at  my  office,  whither  come  my 
clerks,  and  so  I  did  huddle 
the  best  I  could,  some  more 
notes  for  my  discourse  to-day  " 
(he  had  only  been  given  a  week 
in  which  to  prepare  it),  "  and 
by  nine  o'clock  was  ready, 
and  did  go  down  to  the  Old 
Swan,  and  there,  by  boat,  to 
Westminster,  where  I  found 
myself  come  time  enough,  and 
my  brethren1  all  ready.  But  I 
full  of  thoughts  and  trouble 
about  the  issue  of  this  day  ; 
and,  to  comfort  myself,  did 
go  to  the  Dog  and  drink  half 
a  pint  of  mulled  sack,  and  in 
the  hall  did  drink  a  dram  of 
brandy  ;  and  with  the  warmth 
of  this  did  find  myself  in  bet- 
ter order  as  to  courage,  truly. 
So  we  all  up  to  the  lobby  ; 
and  between  eleven  or  twelve 
o'clock,  were  called  in,  with  the 
mace  before  us,  into  the  House, 
where  a  mighty  full  House : 
and  we  stood  at  the  bar.  I 
perceive  the  whole  House  was 
full  of  expectation  of  our  de- 
fence, what  it  would  be,  and 
with  great  prejudice.  After 
the  Speaker  had  told  us  the 


dissatisfaction  of  the  House, 
and  read  the  Eeport  of  the 
Committee,  I  began  our  de- 
fence most  acceptably  and 
smoothly,  and  continued  at  it 
without  any  hesitation  or  losse, 
but  with  full  scope,  and  all 
my  reason  free  about  me,  as 
if  it  had  been  at  my  own 
table,  from  that  time  till  past 
three  in  the  after  noon ;  and 
so  it  ended,  without  any  in- 
terruption from  the  Speaker, 
but  we  withdrew  "  (5th  March 
1668). 

It  was  evidently  a  very 
good  speech.  All  his  own 
party  were  delighted,  and  he 
was  immensely  complimented. 
The  Commons  seem  to  have 
been  impressed,  and  their  pro- 
secution dropped  off  after  it. 
Apparently  the  Board  had  done 
on  the  whole  as  well  as  could 
be  expected  of  them  in  the 
circumstances,  for  the  Inquiry 
had  been  very  searching,  and 
there  was  a  general  wish  to 
find  a  scapegoat.  The  effect 
on  Pepys'  mind  was  to  give 
him  a  great  desire  to  become 
a  "  Parliament  man  "  himself 
— a  wish  that  was  afterwards 
gratified,  though  not  till  after 
failing  eyesight  had  obliged 
him  to  give  up  his  cipher 
diary,  which  he  did  in  May 
1669  ;  and  he  never  resumed  it. 

Of  course,  these  extracts 
give  only  one  side  of  his  life. 
The  bulk  of  the  diary  is  made 
up  of  the  daily  interests  of  a 
very  jolly,  sociable,  private 
life,  spiced  with  biting  satire 
and  witty  sayings,  as  well  as 
with  unsavoury  gossip  and  do- 
mestic details.  For  he  recounts 


1921.] 


Some  Tribulations  of  a  Public  Servant. 


823 


his  life  whole,  unclassified,  and 
unvarnished,  and  gives  his 
thoughts  and  fears  just  as  he 
found  them.  There  is  encour- 
agement for  us  in  his  record, 
knowing,  as  we  do,  that,  on  the 
whole,  that  discreditable  and 
anxious  period  of  English  his- 
tory was  safely  passed.  And 
seeing  how  matters  unfolded 
themselves  may  help  us  to  face 
the  discouragements  of  the 
present  day,  which  is  far  more 
glorious  than  that  of  Charles  II. 
We  have  again  reached  a 
time  of  social  transition.  It 
is  some  comfort  to  remember 


that  the  men  who  save  their 
country  are  the  steady  prac- 
tical workers  who  go  on  adapt- 
ing and  adjusting  methods  and 
opportunities,  gradually  defin- 
ing the  differences  between 
principles  and  shibboleths,  see- 
ing the  danger  of  their  times 
without  shrieking  or  falling 
into  hopeless  despair,  and  keep- 
ing the  country  together  by 
sheer  weight  of  numbers  and 
diligence.  Men  like  Pepys,  in 
short,  and  they  are  none  the 
worse  for  being  able  and  ready 
to  enjoy  themselves. 

A.  C.  COMPTON. 


824 


[Dec. 


THE   FOBBIDDEN  FOETEESS   OF   KHUEASAN. 


BY  L.    V.    S.   BLACKER. 


WE  had  been  told  that  the 
Kelat  of  the  Emperor  Nadir 
Shah  was  a  very  marvellous 
place.  When  we  actually  set 
eyes  on  it,  the  most  extrava- 
gant descriptions  seemed  less 
than  the  truth. 

The  Persians,  who,  like  the 
Chinese,  attach  an  overwhelm- 
ing importance  to  fortresses, 
shroud  it  in  the  greatest  mys- 
tery, and  use  every  effort  to 
prevent  strangers  approaching 
it.  Even  travellers  with  an 
immense  influence  behind  them 
had  failed  to  get  inside.  How- 
ever, in  1919  we  were  by  way 
of  being  self-invited  allies  of  the 
Persians,  and  as  our  task  was 
then  the  defence  of  Khurasan 
against  the  Bolsheviks,  they 
could  not  very  well  refuse  our 
commander's  entry  into  Kelat- 
i-Nadiri  when  he  asked  for  it. 
All  the  same,  they  made  a 
great  to-do  about  it,  and  politely 
rubbed  in  the  fact  that  they 
were  conferring  a  very  great 
honour  not  accorded  to  every 
one. 

To  save  time,  we  sent 
our  horses  and  spare  kit,  es- 
corted by  a  few  men  of  the 
Guides,  under  Havildar  Aslam, 
a  much-scarred  Yusafzai  vet- 
eran of  Artois  and  Africa,  a 
day's  march  ahead.  Next  day 
the  Colonel  and  I  set  out  in  the 
one  and  only  "  tin-Lizzie  "  that 
the  force  owned,  across  the 
waving  green  corn  of  the  plain, 


past  the  blue-tiled  dome  of 
Khwaja  Eabbi's  shrine  that 
glinted  in  the  morning  sun,  to 
Eazan.  The  Ford  clanked  back 
to  Meshed,  and  mounting  our 
horses  we  rode  on  by  a  rough 
track  into  the  mountains.  The 
month  was  April,  and  it  had 
begun  to  get  hot  in  the  middle 
of  the  day  in  that  latitude 
(36°  N.),  so  we  pushed  along. 
The  several  ranges  that  here 
compose  the  Kara  Dagh  run 
athwart  the  trail,  and  this 
scrambles  laboriously  up  the 
gorges  of  the  streams  that  burst 
their  way  abruptly  through  the 
iron  cliffs.  Almost  at  once  we 
found  ourselves  in  the  first  of 
these  grey- walled  defiles. 
-  The  stream-bed  was  dry,  and 
though  the  track  was  strewn 
with  boulders  and  rough  rocks, 
our  horses  could  trot.  We 
soon  climbed  over  the  little 
ridge  at  the  head  of  the  gorge, 
past  the  tall  thin  headstones 
of  a  Persian  graveyard  to  the 
shallow  valley  full  of  smiling 
corn  and  barley  in  the  midst 
of  which  lay  Kardeh,  the 
last  Persian  village.  As  we 
halted  a  few  minutes  to  renew 
the  clenches  on  a  loose  shoe, 
the  pleasant-spoken  Katkhuda 
brought  us  a  tray  of  melons. 
Feroz,  my  young  orderly,  smiled 
his  engaging  Punjabi  smile. 
He'  liked  melons,  though  he 
remarked  .that  they  had  the 
disadvantage  of  making  the 


1921.] 


The  Forbidden  Fortress  of  Khurasan. 


825 


ears  so  wet.  My  dear  old  mare, 
too,  was  passionately  addicted 
to  melons  on  a  hot  day.  She 
had  a  different  method  of 
dealing  with  them.  Gripping 
the  tip  of  a  lengthy  slice  in  her 
pearl-like  teeth,  she  would  flap 
the  other  end  upwards  against 
her  velvet  nose.  She  found  it 
delightfully  cool,  and  so  in 
her  case  this  pastime  took  the 
place  of  the  powder-puff  to 
which  the  biped  fair  is  so  de- 
voted. With  little  sighs  of 
regret,  Feroz  and  Marushka 
tore  themselves  away  from  their 
third  water-melon  to  scramble 
into  the  next  defile.  This  ex- 
traordinary wall  -  sided  gully, 
the  Tang-i-Shikasteh,  took  us 
eventually  right  on  to  the 
uplands  of  the  main  range. 
The  way  led  up  a  succession 
of  rough  gorges  in  between 
vertically  scarped  cliffs.  Here 
and  there  we  passed  a  hamlet, 
such  as  Al,  embowered  in 
leafy  green  plane-trees ;  and 
once,  where  the  defile  widened 
out  a  little  to  fill  with  vegeta- 
tion, perched  on  the  very  sum- 
mit of  a  hill  just  to  the  west, 
there  was  an  immense  rock, 
with  sides  so  absolutely  per- 
pendicular that  at  first  sight 
it  seemed  like  a  building  of 
Cyclopean  masonry.  On  our 
own  side  of  the  valley,  deep 
on  a  great  rock-face,  in  flowing 
Persian  script,  was  carved  a 
legend.  It  described  how  a 
monarch  of  the  old  times, 
riding  up  this  fair  valley,  per- 
haps on  his  way  to  Merv,  the 
"  Queen  of  the  World,"  laid  a 
wager  with  his  retinue  as  to 
who  should  guess  the  weight 


of  the  immense  stone.  The 
Shah  won.  Kings  commanded 
respect  in  those  days,  and  the 
stone  was  dubbed  "  the  rock 
of  thirty  pounds'  weight," 
doubtless  to  commemorate  the 
estimate  of  the  Court  fool. 

More  gorges  followed,  flanked 
now  with  yellow  cliffs  several 
hundred  feet  high,  and  filled 
with  low  scrub  and  rank  weeds. 
At  last,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
we  came  to  the  stones  of  a 
ruin  where  two  valleys  joined. 
The  right  held  the  bridle-track 
to  the  Kelat,  but  up  the  valley 
to  the  left  lay  the  little  hamlet 
where  we  proposed  to  spend 
the  night.  The  map  was  vague, 
to  say  the  least  of  it :  the 
omission  of  a  6000-foot  moun- 
tain range  and  the  misplace- 
ment of  a  village  by  six  or 
eight  miles  were  as  nothing  to 
it.  So  we  had  to  plod  several 
miles  up  the  unmapped  side 
valley  of  Balghur  before  we 
found  the  wind-swept  hamlet 
of  that  name,  perched  in  tiers 
on  a  steep-ridged  spur  several 
hundred  feet  above  the  valley 
bottom.  As  we  climbed  in 
the  dusk  up  the  narrow  goat- 
track  several  figures  loomed 
past  in  tall  black  sheep-skin 
bonnets  like  the  bearskins  of 
the  Foot  Guards,  and  in  long 
wide-sleeved  robes  of  wadded 
cotton  and  crimson  silk.  It 
was  a  jolt  to  our  Occidental 
ideas  to  find  that  this  village 
and  its  surrounding  valley  were 
inhabited  by  Turks. '  Very  soon 
our  horses  were  tethered,  and 
champing  good  dry  lucerne 
under  the  bala-khaneh  xof.  a 
two-storied  guest-house,  where- 


826 


The  Forbidden  Fortress  of  Khurasan. 


[Dec. 


in  a  cheery  samovar  was  a-boil 
and  supper  a-cooking  under 
Feroz's  able  management  and 
Transatlantic  hustle. 

We  found  that  these  Turks 
took  no  interest  in  the  wars 
waged  by  their  Osmanli  cousins, 
and  we  were  quite  sorry  to  say 
good-bye  to  them  next  morn- 
ing. A  short  cut  over  a  granite 
ridge  took  us  back  to  the  main 
valley,  and  almost  at  once  we 
were  plunged  in  the  most 
gloomy  and  forbidding  gorge 
of  all,  the  Zao-i-Pirzan  (the 
gorge  of  the  old  woman).  At 
one  place  the  black  cliff  walls 
are  so  close  together  that  a 
loaded  mule  has  only  just  room 
to  pass. 

The  path,  beset  with  thorny 
scrub,  began  to  be  much 
steeper,  and  in  due  course 
we  came  on  to  a  pleasant 
grassy  upland  like  the  South 
Downs,  but  of  some  9000  feet 
in  altitude.  An  easy  little  pass 
led  to  the  great  chasm  of  an 
open  valley  running  sharply 
down  towards  the  plains  of 
Turkistan,  and  draining  towards 
the  Murghab,  the  river  of  Merv. 
The  path  sidled  along  the  flank 
of  the  range,  a  few  hundred 
feet  below  the  steeply  scarped 
crest,  and  several  hundred  feet 
above  the  stream-bed,  down 
to  which  the  grassy  hillsides 
swept  in  giddy  slopes.  A  rocky 
razor-backed  col,  with  the  Turk- 
ish name  of  Diveh  Boiun,  the 
camel's  neck,  took  us  abruptly 
into  the  next  valley  to  the 
north-west,  and  from  its  knife- 
edge  we  looked  down  on  great 
open  rolling  downs,  in  the  midst 
of  which,  by  a  dew  pond, 


nestled  the  tiny  Turkish  village 
of  Bardeh.  In  company  with 
a  great  number  of  little  bed- 
fellows, we  billeted  ourselves 
here,  and  looked  forward  to 
the  unfolding  of  the  great 
mystery  on  the  morrow,  which 
should  see  us  in  the  secret 
fastness. 

A  few  miles  more  of  downs,  in 
a  clayey  soil,  soon  gave  way  to 
a  pass  very  easy  of  ascent. 
Then  to  the  north,  the  track 
plunged  down  into  an  extra- 
ordinary valley,  an  almost  per- 
fect V,  of  which  the  sides  are 
formed  by  flat  rock  faces, 
tectonic  strata  all  tipped  askew 
by  some  ancient  upheaval.  To 
this  succeeded  a  torrent-cross- 
ing, and  the  passage  of  another 
rocky  sheer-walled  gorge,  the 
Tang  -  i  -  Jaour  (the  gully  of 
the  unbeliever).  It  might  well 
have  been  the  Valley  of  the 
Eoc.  Suddenly  across  the 
cramped  skyline,  and  the  fan- 
tastic silhouette  of  the  craggy 
sides,  as  it  opened  to  our  view, 
there  sprang  a  straight-crested 
toothed  line  of  stark  cliffs — the 
1000-foot  rampart  of  the  Kelat. 
Mute  with  astonishment,  we 
rode  on  past  the  tiny  poplar- 
bowered  mountain  hamlet  of 
Hammam  Kala,  to  meet  a 
black-bonneted  cavalcade,  cross 
bandoliered,  with  Trokh-Linie, 
Berdanka,  and  Osmanli  Mauser 
across  their  backs,  that  had 
ridden  out  from  the  stronghold. 
The  Khan  had  sent  his  eldest 
son  to  welcome  us,  with  the 
escort  that  this  rugged  Alsatia 
demands.  In  the  unending 
skirmishes  of  Turk,  Kurd,  and 
Turkoman,  they  do  not  forget 


1921.] 


The  Forbidden  Fortress  of  Khurasan. 


827 


that  "  whoso  tarrieth  on  the 
draw,  and  landeth  not  his 
bullet  on  the  correct  button, 
that  man  shall  be  planted  ere 
his  prime."  The  Khan's  son 
was  a  clean-featured  lad  of 
about  eighteen,  whose  face  but 
barely  betrayed  his  Turkish 
race. 

He  gave  us  his  father's  hos- 
pitable message  with  the 
natural  courtesy  of  a  boy  of 
good  family,  and  we  cantered 
along,  ahead  of  the  wild  squeal- 
ing stallions,  leaping  the  stone 
walls  of  tiny  boulder-littered 
fields,  under  the  shale  slopes 
that  ran  down  from  that  amaz- 
ing line  of  cliffs. 

Not  the  least  wonderful  was 
that  it  ran  for  a  good  many 
miles  in  either  direction  in  a 
perfectly  straight  grey  line, 
as  if  planned  by  a  draftsman, 
to  spring  sheer  up,  ignoring 
the  green  folds  and  valleys  and 
hills  of  the  natural  lie  of  the 
country,  which  seemed  to  surge, 
like  wintry  breakers  against  a 
sea-wall,  about  its  flank.  Here 
and  there  a  watch-tower,  out- 
lining itself  high  up  against  the 
sky,  showed  the  hand  of  man. 

Bound  a  corner,  past  a  clump 
of  infrequent  hardy  trees,  we 
rode  over  a  shingly  stream 
into  a  frowning  black  gorge. 
Across  its  gloomy  forbidding 
midst  there  stretched  a  mighty 
arched  wall  of  ancient  ashlar, 
and  in  this  in  some  bygone 
decade  the  imprisoned  stream 
had  burst  a  gap. 

Through  the  gorge  at  last 
we  came  into  the  legendary 
cliff-girt  hold. 

The  harshness  of  the  scarped 


granite-speckled  hills  and  bleak 
wind-swept  spurs  outside  gave 
place  in  a  twinkling  to  smiling 
little  sunny  fields  bowered  in 
trees,  some  of  them  bearing 
fruit,  as  we  rode  in  through 
the  "  Gate  of  Argavan  Shah," 
past  the  village  at  its  mouth, 
where  stood  a  couple  of  brass 
field  -  guns.  Bounded,  easy  - 
sloped  downs  covered  with  good 
grazing  came  into  our  purview 
as  we  trotted  along  the  narrow 
stone-walled  lanes  that  divided 
the  fields  from  the  sheep-dotted 
slopes  of  herbage.  But  always 
in  the  background  there  frowned 
above  the  pleasant  pastures  the 
harsh  crenelated  line  of  the 
outer  walls.  Now  and  then 
some  sheep-skinned  man,  or 
a  woman  in  the  local  tartan- 
plaid  that  is  so  astonishingly 
Scottish,  would  salute  the  young 
Khan  or  stare  wonderingly  at 
the  British  officers  or  at  the 
half  -  dozen  spick  -  and  -  span 
Guides  that  rode  behind  them, 
their  gleaming  saddles,  bur- 
nished bits,  and  meticulously 
kept  arms  somewhat  in  con- 
trast to  the  raffishness  of  the 
middle-East  cavalier.  The  tar- 
tan plaids  that  this  tribe  of 
Turks  share  with  their  Kurdish 
neighbours  caused  Colonel  Mac- 
gregor  to  speculate.  He  was 
the  first,  and  very  nearly  the 
last,  European  ever  to  enter 
Kelat-i-Nadiri  back  in  the  early 
'seventies.  Though  when  one 
reflects  that  the  Kurd  is  of 
the  same  Nordic  clan  that 
inhabits  the  East  of  Scotland, 
it  is  not  difficult  to  comprehend 
that  the  same  tradition  has 
kept  the  tartan  weave  alive  in 


828 


The  Forbidden  Fortress  of  Khurasan. 


[Dec. 


the  two  far-sundered  mountain 
regions. 

In  just  over  a  couple  of 
miles  from  the  entrance,  we 
came  to  Ja-i-Gumbaz,  the  main 
village  of  the  whole  district, 
that  holds  the  ancient  palace 
of  the  Kurdish  Emperor  Nadir 
where  lives  the  Khan  of  to-day. 
A  cobbled  street  led  through  a 
massive  gateway  to  a  sort  of 
outer  bailey,  with  a  stable- 
yard  on  its  right,  and  brought 
us  face  to  face  with  a  great 
circular  stone  tower.  Its  base 
formed  a  sort  of  arcade,  before 
which  stood  another  ancient 
field-piece,  whilst  the  cylin- 
drical shaft  of  the  tower  ran 
up  in  cabled  fluting  like  a 
Greek  pillar  to  a  height  of 
some  scores  of  feet. 

The  Khan,  whose  name  we 
learned  was  Fatteh  -  ul  -  Mulk, 
led  us  to  the  guest-chambers, 
through  a  garden  filled  with 
dense  foliage  of  Europe  and 
tufted  poplars  of  Asia,  to  the 
rear  of  the  great  shaft;  and 
soon  over  deep  china  bowls  of 
tea  we  forgot  the  asperities  of 
the  journey  in  listening  to  the 
legends  of  this  wonderful  for- 
tress. 

Nadir,  like  Saladin,  was  a 
Kurd — not,  as  so  many  think, 
a  Persian — and  his  early  youth 
was  spent  shepherding  his 
father's  flocks  on  the  wild 
hillsides  of  his  native  Duringar, 
three  days'  march  to  the  west- 
ward. Coupling  a  throw-back 
to  the  Nordic  purposefulness 
of  his  ancestors,  to  middle 
Eastern  savagery,  perhaps 
acquired  from  a  Mongoloid 
mother,  he  swept  over  South 


Asia,  ruling  from  aristocratic 
Georgian  Tiflis  to  thick-lipped 
Dravidian  Delhi.  Perhaps  some 
of  his  progeny  charged  for  the 
Frankish  emperor  under  the 
December  sun  on  that  great 
day  of  Austerlitz,  or  perished 
on  the  Be're'sina  ice. 

The  Persian  likes  to  think 
that  Nadir  was  himself  a  Per- 
sian, and  so  to  boast  about 
the  Persian  conquest  of  Hindu- 
stan. Sir  Percy  Sykes  tells  us 
that  in  Shiraz  in  1916  the 
Persians  vaunted  that  "  a  hun- 
dred Kashgai  could  chase  a 
thousand  Indians."  A  little 
practical  experience  forced  them 
ruefully  to  admit  that  "  a  hun- 
dred sepoys  could  chase  a 
thousand  Kashgais,"  and  they 
might  well  have  made  it  "  ten 
thousand."  For,  in  common 
with  a  great  many  people  who 
might  be  expected  to  know 
better,  they  had  not  the  gump- 
tion to  realise  that  the  Indians, 
whose  faces  Nadir  ground  into 
the  dust,  were  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent race  and  fibre  to  the 
Aryan  Punjabi,  whom  the  war, 
following  up  the  good  work  of 
the  Mutiny,  has  made  the  back- 
bone of  the  army.  To-day,  of 
course,  no  one  with  any  prac- 
tical experience  has  the  least 
doubt  that  a  single  company 
of  Punjabi  mounted  infantry 
could  overrun  Persia,  Bolshe- 
viks or  no  Bolsheviks. 

Nadir,  on  his  return  from 
the  ravishing  of  India,  came 
back  to  his  native  heath  with 
loot  worth,  even  in  those 
days,  seven  millions  sterling. 
He  must  have  remembered  the 
Kelat  from  his  boyhood  days, 


1921.] 


The  Forbidden  Fortress  of  Khurasan. 


829 


and  hit  on  it  as  an  ideal 
"  keep  "  for  himself  and  his 
booty. 

He  built  in  the  valley  bottom 
the  massy  stone  palace  at 
Ja-i-Gumbaz,  called  Mukburra- 
i-Nadir,  and  a  summer  villa 
on  the  breezy  plateau  above. 
Somewhere  in  the  great  area 
of  the  fastness  he  hid  his 
treasure. 

When  he  came  to  the  violent 
end  that  fate  seems  to  reserve 
for  despots  like  Nadir  and 
Trotsky,  the  hiding-place  of 
the  treasure-trove  was  lost. 

I  may  as  well  put  the  reader 
out  of  his  anxiety  at  once  by 
telling  him  that  we  did  not 
find  it ;  so  the  mighty  corre- 
spondence by  which  we  endea- 
vour to  extract  our  arrears  of 
pay  is  still  in  full  swing.  A 
certain  dictionary  defines  a 
soldier  as  a  man  who  fights 
for  his  pay.  This  is  a  good 
dictionary. 

Nowadays  the  Kelat  and 
the  district  around  is  held  in 
fief  from  the  Kajar  Shah  by 
the  Khan,  to  whose  ancestors 
it  was  given,  on  condition  that 
they  and  their  Turkish  clan 
should  safeguard  that  frontier 
from  the  raiding  Turkoman  of 
Merv  and  the  Akhal  Oasis. 
This  is  just  the  principle  of 
Cossack  land  tenure  in  return 
for  military  service,  and  that  of 
the  old-time  Eajput  "Jagir": 
a  very  excellent  one  for  tribes 
of  an  adventuring  tempera- 
ment. Nothing  would  do  more 
good  than  its  revival  in  the 
Punjab,  where  it  would  solve 
many  problems,  both  military 
and  civil. 


Next  day  we  climbed  up 
the  steep  red-clay  slopes  that 
fringed  the  plateau  of  Khisht. 
One  of  our  party  was  one  AM 
Akbar,  a  trooper  of  "  B  " 
Squadron  of  the  Guides.  The 
Khan  recognised  him  at  once  : 
he  had  in  "  civil  "  life  been 
one  of  the  many  distinguished 
bandits  of  Northern  Khurasan. 
In  fact,  in  spite  of  his  youthful 
appearance,  he  had  had  a  very 
intricate  past  in  the  band  of 
the  celebrated  Mahmud  of  Nis- 
hapur,  a  brigand  who  ran  to 
artillery  and  an  armourer's 
establishment  of  his  own.  In 
company  with  his  cousin  Ker- 
belai,  of  the  same  squadron, 
who  was  wounded  in  the  leg 
in  the  proceedings,  he  had 
taken  part  in  the  filibustering 
attack  on  the  Eussian  Con- 
sulate of  Gumbad-i-Kabus  in 
1912.  The  Khan  reminded 
him  gently  about  all  this,  to 
Ali  Akbar 's  intense  annoyance 
and  the  amusement  of  the 
Punjabis.  He  opined  unkindly 
that  as  Ali  Akbar  now  wore 
the  Lion  and  the  Unicorn,  he 
had  left  brigandage  behind  him 
for  good.  "  Last  night  ye 
had  struck  at  a  Border  thief : 
to-night  'tis  a  man  of  the 
Guides  !  " 

From  the  top  of  the  plateau, 
by  the  little  hamlet  of  Khisht, 
one  of  the  dozen  to  be  found 
inside  the  ramparts,  we  had  a 
splendid  view  of  the  whole 
perimeter,  to  its  farthest  point, 
that  lay  quite  twelve  miles 
away.  The  huge  size  of  the 
place  slowly  began  to  impress 
itself  on  us,  and  as  we  climbed 
a  peak  farther  to  the  north- 


830 


The  Forbidden  Fortress  of  Khurasan. 


[Dec. 


ward,  we  were  struck  indeed 
with  amazement  at  the  miracle 
of  the  "  enceinte."  Every- 
where is  a  complete  girdle  of 
vertical  cliffs  several  hundred 
feet  in  height,  except  for  the 
four  or  five  narrow  guarded 
gorges  that  form  the  "  gates." 

Even  these  are  barely  pass- 
able by  laden  camels  :  the  one 
of  Argavan  Shah,  by  which  we 
entered,  and  which  admits  the 
little  stream  that  flows  through 
the  fastness,  is  perhaps  the 
easiest.  Its  counterpart,  by 
which  the  stream  breaks 
through  to  the  outside  country, 
to  the  Atak  of  Turkistan,  is 
the  Darband  -  i  -  Naft,  in  the 
northern  wall,  closed  by  ram- 
parts and  towers.  In  the 
eastern  scarp,  farthest ^  from 
us,  are  the  two  gates  of  Haji 
Bulan  and  Choubast,  by  one  of 
which  one  may  bring  in  light 
guns.  Close  at  hand  is  the 
bridle-track  through  the  village 
of  Deh-Chah,  in  the  north- 
western angle,  that  finds  its 
way  to  the  Central  Asian  Bail- 
way  and  the  British  battlefield 
of  Kaakha. 

Except  for  these,  only  two 
or  three  rough  tracks  exist  by 
which  even  an  agile  cragsman 
can  scramble  over  the  cliffs. 
One  of  them  ran  down  from 
under  the  shoulder  of  the  peak, 
Kamar  Khisht,  of  some  5000 
odd  feet,  whereof  we  stood 
upon  the  crest. 

The  sky  was  clear,  and  the 
mountain  rampart  fell  away 
starkly  below  us,  so  that  look- 
ing down  we  could  clearly  see 
the  armoured  trains  of  Bolshe- 
vik and  Menshevik,  and  the 


puffs  of  smoke  that  marked 
their  not  very  deadly  conflict. 
Just  in  this  way,  more  than 
thirty  years  before,  O 'Dono- 
van had  climbed  a  hill  of  the 
outer  range  to  look  down  upon 
the  battles  of  Skobeleff  and 
the  gallant  Tekkes. 

Just  as  we  were  about  to 
take  some  photographs,  the 
clouds  descended  in  a  wet  mist, 
and  it  commenced  to  rain. 
Although  it  cleared  up  a  trifle 
the  next  day,  so  that  we  were 
able  to  take  a  few,  we  never 
got  any  really  good  ones.  We 
managed  to  get  an  approximate 
idea  down  on  paper  of  the  lie 
of  the  land. 

Kelat-i-Nadiri,  though  so  im- 
mensely strong  by  nature  that 
it  dwarfs  Gibraltar,  is  by  no 
means  a  virgin  fortress.  A 
force  of  Tekkes  took  it  by 
escalade  early  in  the  nineteenth 
century. 

To  defend  the  Kelat  against 
real  soldiers  would  be  a  most 
formidable  undertaking,  since 
the  length  of  the  "  ramparts  " 
cannot  be  much  less  than  fifty 
miles.  On  the  other  hand,  no 
artillery  heavier  than  field- 
howitzers  could  reasonably  be 
brought  to  bear  on  the  in- 
terior, and  on  account  of  the 
absence  of  adequate  maps,  aero- 
plane "  spotting  "  would  be 
most  difficult.  Hence  given 
equally  well-led  troops  on  either 
side,  a  defence  would  probably 
resolve  itself  into  attempts  at 
surprise  assaults,  and  a  series 
of  hand-to-hand  combats  in 
the  gorges  and  defiles  of  the 
"  gates." 
On  the  flanks  of  the  interior 


1921.] 


The  Forbidden  Fortress  of  Khurasan. 


831 


slopes  of  the  northern  hills 
some  of  the  gullies  are  blocked 
by  the  remains  of  old-time 
stone-work.  These  are  dams 
built  by  Nadir  to  catch  the 
rainfall  in  an  attempt  to  form 
a  reserve  for  a  besieged  garri- 
son. For  a  very  remarkable 
reason,  that  touches  on  both 
chemistry  and  geology,  the 
waters  of  the  little  stream,  the 
Ab-i-Kelat,  that,  entering  at 
the  Argavan  Shah  Gate,  bisects 
the  great  fortress,  are  not  drink- 
able. Thus  the  water-supply 
question  for  a  large  garrison 
would  be  very  formidable. 

Next  day  the  leaden  skies 
poured  down  torrents,  and  mists 
swirled  round  the  peaks,  so 
we  were  kept  to  the  inside  of 
the  Makburra,where  the  Khan's 
hospitality  and  his  store  of 
old-time  legends  and  histories 
of  the  Kelat  kept  us  vastly 
interested,]  whilst  we  sipped 
his  Turkish  coffee,  the  memory 
of  which  runs  through  succeed- 
ing years  like  the  silken  strand 
in  Alpine  rope. 

The  following  day  and  the 
day  after  the  rain  continued  to 
fall  in  a  deluge,  the  clay  of  the 
valleys  became  slippery  as  soap, 
and  the  mountain  rivulets 
swelled  into  impassable  tor- 
rents. In  the  cloud- wrapped 
hills  we  were  able  to  look  about 
and  explore  the  Kelat  a  little 


more,  though  when  an  insistent 
message  demanded  our  early 
return  to  Meshed,  the  gorged 
unfordable  rivers  kept  us  back 
two  days  more. 

When  at  last  we  made  our 
muddy  way  back  to  the  Bri- 
gade's "  chateau  "  in  Meshed, 
we  found  ourselves  suddenly  up 
against  a  circumstance  not  only 
startling  from  the  point  of 
view  of  Weltpolitik,  but  most 
confusing  to  the  unmathemat- 
ical. 

Young  Amanulla,  the  strip- 
ling king  in  Kabul,  had  decided 
to  cut  his  milk  teeth  upon  the 
Government  of  India.  Certain 
Hebrews,  whom  we  strongly 
suspected  of  being  the  type 
that  devours  its  young,  had 
egged  him  on  to  this  rash 
step. 

Quant  a  nous,  we  experi- 
enced a  sort  of  "  Alice-through- 
the  -  looking  -  glass  "  sensation, 
because  our  little  army  was  on 
the  wrong  side  of  Afghanistan 
altogether.  What  really  wor- 
ried people,  though,  was  not 
the  fact  that  we  were  at  war 
with  Afghanistan,  but  whether 
we  were  participating  in  the 
fifth,  fourth,  or  third  war  of 
that  series  ;  and  so  our  adven- 
ture into  the  secret  stronghold 
was  soon  forgotten  in  the  men- 
tal turmoil  of  the  higher  arith- 
metic. 


832 


Pec. 


MUSINGS  WITHOUT  METHOD. 

SWAPPING  ENGLAND'S  HONOUR  FOR  ULSTER'S  RUIN — "  SUCCESS  " — 
LORD  BEAVERBROOK  ON  HIMSELF — THE  PRIME  MINISTER'S  GLASS 
OF  BURGUNDY — THE  LORD  CHANCELLOR'S  SECRET. 


EVER  since  Mr  Lloyd  George 
and  his  colleagues  have  re- 
nounced principle  in  politics, 
they  have  followed  the  prim- 
rose path  with  all  the  gaiety 
of  carelessness.  If  a  passion- 
ately-held opinion  seemed  in- 
convenient to  them  for  the 
moment,  they  dropped  it  with 
a  smirk  of  satisfaction.  Mr 
Lloyd  George,  having  con- 
demned unsparingly  "  the  mur- 
der gang,"  was  ingenious,  when 
the  opportunity  came,  in  find- 
ing excuses  for  it.  Every  man, 
said  he  glibly,  was  innocent 
until  he  was  proved  guilty,  as 
though  the  Easter  rebellion  had 
never  been,  and  as  though  he 
had  never  heard  of  the  gunmen. 
Evidently  it  is  not  enough  for 
him  that  his  Irish  friends  should 
have  been  convicted  once.  Yet 
now  that  they  are  statesmen 
and  "  men  of  honour,"  it  is 
not  probable  that  they  will 
ever  stand  in  the  dock  again, 
and  Mr  Lloyd  George  will  be 
deprived  of  the  chance  to  give 
another  display  of  what  no 
doubt  he  thinks  magnanimity. 

Thus  at  every  stage  of  the 
negotiations  he  has  fixed  irre- 
vocably the  point  from  which 
he  would  not  retreat,  and  then 
has  hastened  to  take  up  his 
stand,  irrevocably  again,  far 
behind  it.  He  would  not  have 
it  supposed  that  any  words 


which  he  spoke  should  hold 
good  for  a  fortnight.  That  is 
expecting  far  too  much  of  a 
hardy  opportunist.  When  he 
was  asked  to  give  an  assurance 
that  he  would  not  in  any  cir- 
cumstances consent  to  a  change 
in  the  powers  of  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Northern  Ireland,  he 
would  not  have  the  question 
pressed.  And  when  he  was 
asked  whether  in  the  course  of 
a  speech  made  a  few  days  before 
he  had  said  definitely  that, 
whatever  else  happened,  Ulster 
should  not  be  coerced,  he  ob- 
jected that  that  was  exactly 
the  same  question  put  in  an- 
other form.  But  was  it  ?  If 
it  were,  then  would  it  imply 
that  Mr  Lloyd  George  refused 
to  be  bound  by  his  own  words 
for  more  than  a  day  or  two. 
And  surely  the  supporters  of 
Sinn  Fein  might  have  taken 
heart  at  the  evasion.  If  Mr 
Lloyd  George  had  said  that 
Ulster  should  not  be  coerced, 
that  is  perhaps  as  good  a  proof 
as  could  be  furnished  that 
presently  Ulster  would  feel  the 
turn  of  the  screw. 

The  primrose  path,  then,  is 
an  agreeable  path  to  follow 
for  a  while.  But  it  leads 
surely  and  inevitably  to  the 
everlasting  bonfire.  No  sooner, 
indeed,  did  Parliament  meet 
than  the  opportunists  had  a 


1921.] 


Mr  Lloyd  George's  Favourite  Argument. 


833 


very  uncomfortable  time.  Their 
evasions  were  useless.  Forty 
resolute  and  honest  men,  who 
were  content  to  forgo  the 
rewards  of  subservience,  were 
enough  to  uncover  the  shame 
of  the  Government,  and  to 
extract,  after  a  long  and  diffi- 
cult process,  some  few  grains 
of  truth  from  unwilling  Minis- 
ters. It  is  obvious  that  the 
"  men  of  honour,"  whose  pledge 
the  British  Cabinet  is  willing 
to  accept,  had  connived  at  or 
had  taken  no  steps  to  check 
daily  infringements  of  the  truce. 
The  habit  of  murder  is  too 
strong  to  be  resisted,  even 
when  Valera  is  invited  to  dic- 
tate his  terms  to  England. 
Without  a  break  the  Sinn  Fein 
courts  dispensed  their  traves- 
ties of  justice,  and  threatened 
with  death  and  despoilment 
those  who  refused  to  seek  their 
aid.  And  the  Government  re- 
mained wholly  indifferent  to 
the  lawlessness  of  its  new  friends. 
Having  no  principle  to  up- 
hold, it  cared  not  what  insults 
were  put  upon  it,  what  hard- 
ships were  inflicted  upon  the 
loyal  men  whom  it  was  bound 
to  protect. 

So  the  Government  saved 
itself  for  the  minute  from  ridi- 
cule by  proroguing  Parliament. 
Another  week  of  questions 
would  have  destroyed  the  few 
rags  of  authority  with  which  it 
covered  itself.  The  sad  Sir 
Hamar  Greenwood  threw  him- 
self upon  the  mercy  of  his 
opponents,  and,  being  com- 
pletely unable  to  do  his  duty 
as  Irish  Secretary,  appealed 
to  them  for  help  and  support. 


Mr  Lloyd  George  advanced  no 
argument  in  favour  of  his  piti- 
ful surrender  that  could  deceive 
a  loyal  citizen.  It  would  be  an 
expensive  job,  he  hinted,  to 
bring  back  Ireland  to  law  and 
order.  The  expense,  it  is  true, 
has  been  enormously  increased 
by  his  pitiful  negligence,  but 
the  elementary  tasks  of  govern- 
ment must  be  performed  at 
last,  whatever  be  their  cost. 
Even  now  the  murder  gang 
might  be  broken  up  and  its 
members  brought  to  trial  with- 
out too  great  an  expenditure 
of  money  if  the  British  Govern- 
ment refrained  from  interfer- 
ence with  the  gallant  soldiers 
whom  it  has  appointed  to  do 
the  work.  We  may  therefore 
dismiss  the  question  of  cost  as 
wholly  irrelevant.  Still  worse 
is  Mr  Lloyd  George's  favourite 
argument,  that  if  we  settle  the 
Irish  question  we  shall  stand 
higher  than  we  do  at  present 
in  the  eyes  of  foreign  countries. 
Now,  the  opinions  of  foreign 
countries,  ill-informed  as  they 
are,  should  not  be  allowed  to 
influence  our  conduct  for  an 
hour.  So  long  as  we  do  our 
duty  fearlessly,  we  shall  pre- 
serve our  own  self-esteem,  and 
if  we  do  that  we  can  afford  to 
ignore  the  censure  of  interested 
aliens.  Moreover,  in  foreign  re- 
lations respect  proceeds  rather 
from  fear  than  from  love.  And 
though  our  critical  neighbours 
might  rejoice  loudly  at  the 
spectacle  of  Great  Britain 
abased  before  the  assassins  of 
Ireland,  we  should  gain  noth- 
ing from  their  rejoicing.  Bather 
ought  we  to  convince  those 


834 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Dec. 


who  watch  eagerly  for  our 
downfall,  that  we  shall  pursue 
the  policy  which  we  believe 
to  be  just,  without  considering 
the  hopes  and  wishes  of  others 
— that  never  shall  we  surrender 
to  the  blackmail  of  armed 
criminals. 

Meanwhile  it  is  not  without 
interest  to  hear  what  amiable 
foreigners  would  do  were  they 
standing  in  our  shoes.  Mr 
Tumulty  has  been  publishing 
the  table-talk  of  that  con- 
spicuous failure,  Mr  Woodrow 
Wilson,  who,  wholly  unable  to 
do  his  own  work,  is  good  enough 
to  tell  us  how  we  should  do  ours. 
"  I  have  tried  to  impress  upon 
the  Englishmen  with  whom  I 
have  discussed  the  matter," 
says  Mr  Wilson,  "  that  there 
can  never  be  a  real  comrade- 
ship between  America  and  Eng- 
land until  this  issue  is  definitely 
settled  and  out  of  the  way." 
Mr  Wilson,  we  think,  would 
have  been  better  advised  if 
he  had  minded  his  own  busi- 
ness. His  own  country  once 
fought  a  long  and  desperate 
war  to  prevent  disunion,  and 
in  the  end  we  shall  not  shrink 
from  doing  our  duty  with  an 
equal  courage  and  resolution. 
But  though  no  doubt  Mr  Wilson 
approves  of  Lincoln's  policy, 
he  was  kind  enough  to  advo- 
cate publicly  a  very  different 
policy  for  Great  Britain.  As 
Mr  Tumulty  says,  he  "  openly 
espoused  the  cause  of  Irish 
freedom."  But  while  he  advo- 
cated "  freedom  "  for  the  south 
of  Ireland,  he  would  have  re- 
fused it  obstinately  for  the 
north.  Self-determination  was 


very  well  for  the  rebel  prov- 
inces ;  it  might  not  be  applied 
to  Ulster.  With  a  very  lofty 
spirit  did  Mr  Wilson  scold 
those  who  were  unwilling  to 
put  their  necks  under  the  heel 
of  their  ancient,  bitter,  un- 
scrupulous enemies.  "  I  should 
like  to  be  in  Mr  Asquith's 
place,"  said  he  proudly.  "  I 
would  show  this  rebel,  Carson, 
whether  he  would  recognise 
the  authority  of  the  Govern- 
ment or  flout  it.  He  ought 
to  be  hanged  for  treason." 
What  then  becomes  of  "  free- 
dom "  and  "  self  -  determina- 
tion "  ?  It  is  Ulster  alone  in 
all  the  world  which  has  no 
right  to  govern  itself  in  accord 
with  its  own  wishes  and  de- 
signs. That  which  in  rebellious 
Southern  Ireland  is  a  gallant 
attempt  to  be  free  is  in  law- 
abiding  Ulster  rank  treason. 
Yet  the  war  proved  clearly 
enough  where  the  loyal  citizens 
abode  and  where  the  traitors, 
and  we  may  be  excused  if  we 
attach  very  little  importance 
to  the  impertinences  of  Mr 
Wilson.  After  all,  ignorance  is 
no  palliation  of  unfriendly  in- 
terference. 

Lord  Carson  is  happily  un- 
hanged, and  Ulster  once  more 
is  coming  to  the  aid  of  Great 
Britain.  If  we  are  saved  from 
disruption,  if  we  do  not  take 
the  first  step  in  the  destruction 
of  the  Empire,  it  will  be  due  to 
the  courage  and  energy  of 
Ulster  and  of  Ulster  alone. 
"  We  will  not  coerce  Ulster," 
says  Mr  Lloyd  George.  "  We 
will  not  coerce  Ulster,"  echo 
his  slavish  followers,  "  but " 


1921.]       Swapping  England's  Honour  for  Ulster's  Ruin. 


835 


There  are,  think  the  British 
servants  of  Sinn  Fein,  other 
methods  of  coercion  besides 
the  force  of  arms.  There  are 
many  screws,  financial  and  po- 
litical, which  may  be  turned 
against  recalcitrant  loyalists. 
Those  who  show  their  loyalty 
to  England  must  suffer  for 
their  temerity  so  long  as  we 
have  a  Prime  Minister  closely 
allied  to  the  rebels.  "  Evil 
communications  corrupt  good 
manners."  The  Ministers  who 
have  sat  for  many  days  in 
close  conference  with  black- 
mailers easily  acquire  the  bad 
habit.  And  there  has  been 
no  more  disgraceful  episode  in 
a  disgraceful  business  than  the 
attempt  made  by  the  Govern- 
ment and  its  doped  press  to 
blackmail  Ulster  and  Sir  James 
Craig.  The  very  men  who  a 
few  years  ago  pledged  them- 
selves to  fight  for  Ulster  scream 
aloud  to-day  that  the  Ulster- 
men  are  "  wreckers,"  that  the 
onus  of  war,  if  war  begin  again, 
lies  on  them  and  them  alone. 

There  never  was  a  wickeder 
falsehood.  The  whole  respon- 
sibility of  surrender,  and  the 
troubles  which  it  brings  in- 
evitably in  its  train,  rests  with 
Mr  Lloyd  George  and  his  col- 
leagues. There  they  have  sat, 
with  Collins  and  Griffith,  like 
boys  swapping  stamps,  ready  to 
exchange  England's  honour  for 
Ulster's  ruin.  "  You  admit 
your  allegiance  to  King  George, " 
says  Messrs  Lloyd  George  and 
Chamberlain,  "  and  we  will  do 
our  best  to  make  Ulster  your 
vassal."  It  is  easy  enough  for 
them  to  promise  what  does  not 

VOL.  ccx. — NO.  MCCLXXIV. 


belong  to  them.  But  they 
cannot  compel  Ulster  to  do 
their  bidding,  even  though  they 
use  all  the  resources  of  black- 
mail. The  men  of  Ulster  are 
not  opportunists.  They  will 
not  surrender  their  principles 
and  their  freedom  either  to 
placate  the  Irish  -  American 
voter  or  to  keep  Mr  Lloyd 
George  a  few  more  years  in 
office.  And  what  of  the  "  alleg- 
iance "  which  Mr  Lloyd  George 
proposes  to  accept  in  exchange 
for  Ulster's  humiliation  ?  Even 
if  it  were  engrossed  upon  parch- 
ment, like  a  legal  document, 
and  signed,  as  the  sham  truce 
never  was,  it  would  not  be 
worth  the  ink  used  to  trace 
the  unmeaning  word. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  oppor- 
tunists, who  are  supported  by 
no  principle,  by  no  settled 
opinion,  are  driven  to  the 
paltriest  shifts.  We  have  been 
told  that,  if  we  are  not  willing 
to  throw  Ulster  to  the  wolves, 
Mr  Lloyd  George  will  resign. 
Was  there  ever  so  terrible  a 
threat  ?  Mr  Lloyd  George  will 
resign  !  Think  of  it,  you  loyal 
citizens  of  the  British  Empire  ! 
What  would  Great  Britain  be 
without  Mr  Lloyd  George  ?  So 
long  has  he  presumed  to  speak 
for  England,  with  his  myriad 
tongues,  that  you  hear  on 
every  side  the  imbecile  ques- 
tion :  If  Mr  Lloyd  George  goes, 
whom  would  you  put  in  his 
place  ?  But  surely  Mr  Lloyd 
George  and  his  friends  do  not 
believe  in  the  doctrine  of  in- 
dispensability.  We  heard  very 
much  in  the  past  about  the 
"  indispensable  "  Mr  Asquith. 
2  H 


836 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Dec. 


Mr  Asquith  disappeared  from 
view,  and  his  place  was 
taken  by  Mr  Lloyd  George. 
To-day  Mr  Asquith  is  just  the 
same  as  though  he  had  never 
been.  His  speeches  are  un- 
heard. His  presence  is  un- 
noticed. If  he  rise  in  the 
House,  an  unwilling  audience 
seeks  the  repose  of  the  smoking- 
room.  Thus  has  it  ever  been 
in  free  democracies.  "  Fare- 
well goes  out  sighing."  And 
when  Mr  Lloyd  George  is  re- 
placed by  another,  as  he  him- 
self replaced  Mr  Asquith,  we 
shall  all  breathe  a  sigh  of  relief, 
and  wonder  why  we  tolerated 
the  Welsh  Premier  so  long. 

The  threat  of  resignation, 
then,  which  has  been  uttered 
by  the  doped  Press,  need  not 
trouble  us.  Indeed,  it  sounds 
almost  too  good  to  be  true. 
There  is  a  price  too  heavy  to 
be  paid  even  for  the  privilege 
of  being  governed  by  such  a 
tyrant  as  Mr  Lloyd  George. 
If  we  granted  him  another  ten 
years'  autocracy,  we  should 
be  summoned  to  celebrate 
with  him  the  obsequies  of 
the  British  Empire.  With 
the  loss  of  Ireland,  sacrificed 
to  idleness  and  imbecility,  we 
should  be  confronted  also  by 
the  loss  of  Egypt  and  India. 
Our  lines  of  communication 
being  cut,  we  should  be  de- 
barred access  to  Australia  and 
New  Zealand.  Our  dominions 
oversea  would  seek  other  more 
powerful  alliances  than  those 
which  the  Mother  Country, 
hag-ridden  by  Eadicals  and 
Socialists,  could  afford.  And 
we  should  descend  upon  the 


lowest  plane,  and  join  Holland 
and  Switzerland  among  the 
smaller  Powers,  whose  will  is 
not  worth  expression,  whose 
influence  is  chiefly  felt  among 
tourists  and  those  who  profit 
by  their  extravagance. 

Not  only  should  we  face 
Mr  George's  resignation  with 
equanimity :  we  should  rejoice 
in  it.  His  are  the  lower  gifts 
of  demagogy.  He  knows  how 
to  make  the  plausible  speech 
which  his  audience  demands. 
He  can  shift  his  opinions  with 
the  shifting  fancy  of  the  people. 
He  deals  always  in  words 
rather  than  thoughts,  and  his 
understanding  is  as  the  under- 
standing of  a  child.  Since 
history  is  a  sealed  book  to 
him,  he  cannot  with  confidence 
foresee  the  future.  His  hope 
and  his  life  are  in  the  moment. 
As  he  cannot  hold  the  world's 
attention  for  more  than  a 
phrase,  so  he  cannot  look  be- 
yond the  morrow.  What  he 
thinks  about  Ireland  and  Eus- 
sia,  if  he  think  at  all,  no  man 
shall  ever  know.  But  he  looks 
upon  inopportune  surrender  as 
a  beau  geste,  and  he  has  made 
himself  incapable  of  ever  pro- 
nouncing a  wise  word  upon  so 
simple  an  issue  as  the  security 
of  the  British  Empire. 

Wherefore  we  expect  no 
patriotic  or  continuous  action 
from  Mr  Lloyd  George.  We 
should  be  surprised  if  ever  he 
repeated  to-day  the  sentiments 
which  he  expressed  yesterday. 
Like  all  politicians,  he  lives 
from  hand  to  mouth,  and  is 
perfectly  content  if  he  can 
accommodate  interests  enough 


1921.] 


Mr  Chamberlain  and  the  Unionist  Party. 


837 


to   keep   him    in   office    for   a 
month  or  a  year.     But  what 
shall    we    say    of    Mr    Austen 
Chamberlain,    who     has    been 
educated  in  a  sterner  school, 
and  who  in  the  very  moment 
in  which  he  is  doing  his  best 
to  bring  about  the  disruption 
of  the  Empire,  insists  without 
relevance  and  without  humour 
that  he  is  the  leader  of  the 
Unionist  party  f    With  Union- 
ism he  has  no  longer  anything 
whatever  to   do.     He   sits   in 
conference  with  murderers  and 
assassins.     It  may  be  that  he 
knows    nothing    whatever    of 
their  doings  and  sayings.    The 
official    Press,    which    includes 
all  journals  except  '  The  Morn- 
ing   Post,'    has    guarded    the 
frightened  eyes  and  the  timid 
ears  of  the  Government  from 
all  sight  and  sound  of  outrage. 
It  is  unlikely  that  Mr  Chamber- 
lain   has    ever    heard    of    the 
foul  murder  of  Mrs   Lindsay. 
"  Oh  no,  they  never  mention 
her ;  her  name  is  never  heard  !  " 
By  a  piece  of  incredible  mean- 
ness   this   brutal   episode   was 
hidden  from  the  public  by  a 
cowardly    Government.       The 
scoundrel  who  killed  (and  pro- 
bably   tortured)    Mrs    Lindsay 
was  permitted  to   confess  his 
crime  in  a  corner,  and  to  come 
unpunished  out  into  the  world. 
And  had  it  not  been  for  '  The 
Morning  Post '  the  tragedy  of 
Mrs  Lindsay — an  "  informer," 
as  the  Cocoa  Press   described 
her — might    never    have    been 
heard    of.      But    surely    some 
echo  of  the  broken  truce  must 
have    reached    the    unwilling 
ear   of   Mr   Chamberlain.     He 


must  surely  know  that  honest 
men  and  women  have  been 
slaughtered  in  Ireland  for  no 
better  reason  than  that  they 
have  been  loyal  to  Great 
Britain.  Whatever  he  knows 
and  whatever  he  ignores,  he 
thinks  it  no  shame  to  sit  at 
the  same  table  with  Collins 
and  Griffith,  and  therefore  he 
has  no  longer  any  right  to 
call  himself  the  leader  of  the 
Unionist  Party.  His  hands 
are  stained  with  the  crime  of 
Sinn  Fein,  and  there  is  an  end 
of  him. 

Like  all  those  who  by  poli- 
tical persuasion  have  been 
moved  to  turn  their  coats, 
Mr  Chamberlain  exaggerates 
the  importance  of  his  own 
misdoing.  "  On  the  result  of 
the  present  negotiations,"  says 
he,  "  depend  the  issues  of  peace 
and  war  in  these  islands — 
perhaps  the  future  peace  of 
the  world."  The  future  peace 
of  the  world  !  What  nonsense  ! 
The  proper  government  of  Ire- 
land is  a  piece  of  parochial 
business.  The  world  and  its 
peace  have  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  it.  If  the  Americans 
and  others  in  their  ignorance 
make  a  demand  that  we  should 
do  in  Ireland  what  they  tell  us 
to  do,  then  we  should  regret 
their  impertinence,  and  go 
sternly  on  in  our  own  way. 
Even  our  own  peace  would  be 
unaffected  by  Ireland  if  only 
our  governors  would  enforce 
an  honourable  policy,  and  in- 
sist that  the  crime  of  murder 
should  be  sternly  and  univers- 
ally punished.  They  have  not 
made  this  insistence.  They 


838 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Dec. 


have  palliated  murder  until 
it  appears  to  them  and  their 
friends  a  lofty  virtue.  And 
again  we  say  that  Mr  Chamber- 
lain, by  refusing  to  lift  up  his 
voice  and  his  hand  against  the 
murderers  of  loyal  men  and 
women,  has  forfeited  all  claim 
to  be  regarded  as  the  leader  of 
the  Unionist  Party. 

But,  says  he,  "  like  all 
my  Unionist  colleagues,  I  have 
repeatedly  said  that  I  will  not 
be  a  party  to  the  coercion  of 
Ulster.  By  that  pledge  we 
stand.  It  is  common  ground 
to  the  whole  Unionist  Party, 
and  not  to  us  alone.  The 
Prime  Minister  has  given  us 
the  same  pledge,  and  neither 
he  nor  we  will  depart  from  our 
word."  We  may  frankly  say 
at  once  that  we  do  not  value 
the  Prime  Minister's  pledge  at 
a  jot.  Next  week,  if  it  serve 
him,  he  will  make  another 
pledge,  and  again  the  test  will 
be  :  Which  of  the  docile  Union- 
ists will  follow  him  f  Mr  Cham- 
berlain, so  far  as  he  has  gone, 
seems  to  be  in  some  uncertainty. 
"  Do  you  impute  it  as  a  crime 
to  my  colleagues  and  to  me 
that  we  have  invited  Northern 
Ireland  to  come  into  confer- 
ence in  the  same  spirit  and  to 
contribute  her  share  also  to  an 
amicable  settlement  ?  "  That 
is  what  he  asks  in  his  letter 
to  Mr  M'Neill ;  and  we  think 
that  every  fair-minded  Union- 
ist will  impute  it  as  a  crime  to 
Mr  Chamberlain  and  his  col- 
leagues that  they  should  have 
invited  Sir  James  Craig  and 
the  Cabinet  of  Ulster  to  come 
into  conference  with  Collins 


and  Griffith.  There  is  the 
crime,  and  no  rhetoric  can 
palliate  or  belittle  it.  It  is  a 
crime  to  invite  the  loyal  citi- 
zens of  Ulster,  the  men  who 
fought  with  us  in  France, 
to  confer  with  the  rascals 
who  made  the  Easter  re- 
bellion, and  who  contrived 
the  brutal  murders  which  will 
make  "  bloody  Sunday "  in 
Dublin  ever  memorable.  About 
the  elementary  virtues  and 
decencies  of  life  there  can  be 
no  discussion.  Even  though 
for  the  moment  it  seem  old- 
fashioned  to  denounce  cruel 
and  cold-blooded  murder,  mur- 
der is  still  a  crime,  and  he 
condones  a  crime,  if  he  be  not 
guilty  of  it,  who  invites  honest 
men  to  sit  in  conference  with 
criminals. 

Until  we  return  to  what  was 
once  the  common  ground  of 
honesty,  it  is  idle  to  hope  for 
peace  or  comfort.  The  mere 
invitation  to  Ulster,  after  all 
that  has  happened  of  late  in 
Ireland,  "  to  consider  whether 
she  could  not,  with  safety  to 
herself  and  with  advantage  to 
fellow-Unionists  in  the  South, 
enter  a  united  Parliament  under 
sufficient  guarantees  against  the 
abuse  of  the  powers  entrusted 
to  it,"  is  an  act  of  disloyalty, 
especially  as  we  know  from  the 
official  Press  that,  if  Mr  Lloyd 
George  does  not  succeed  in 
compelling  Ulster  to  make  a 
vile  compact  with  Sinn  Fein, 
he  will  declare  that  it  is  the 
fault  of  Ulster.  We  do  not 
coerce  Ulster.  No !  We  say 
no  more  than  that  if  she  re- 
fuses to  surrender  to  those 


1921.] 


Nothing  succeeds  like  Success. 


839 


who  boycott  her  to-day,  and 
who  promise  to  give  her  "  lead  " 
to-morrow,  she  has  wrecked 
the  peace  not  only  of  the 
Empire  but  of  the  world. 

One  thing  only  remains  to 
be  done  :  the  Unionist  Party, 
or  its  honourable  remnants, 
must  be  dissociated  instantly 
from  Mr  Lloyd  George  and  his 
colleagues.  It  matters  not  that 
we  lose  the  inestimable  privi- 
lege of  being  governed  by  a 
Welsh  opportunist.  It  matters 
not  that  we  split  the  Unionist 
Party  from  top  to  bottom.  At 
least  we  shall  rid  ourselves 
of  those  who,  pretending  to  be 
our  friends,  are  the  friends  of 
our  enemies.  At  least  we  shall 
restore  to  politics  something 
of  our  ancient  habit  of  dividing 
right  from  wrong,  of  distin- 
guishing dimly  between  Home 
Eule  and  Unionism.  What- 
ever happens  in  the  near  future, 
one  thing  is  certain  :  that  if 
we  give  way  to  the  revolver 
and  the  bomb  in  Ireland,  we 
cannot  hope  to  hold  in  peace 
and  security  any  of  our  do- 
minions. This  belief  was,  in- 
deed, once  the  pivot  of  Union- 
ism, and  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that,  if  for  the  mere  hope  of 
ease  or  the  indulgence  of  su- 
perstition, we  yield  and  invite 
others  to  yield  to  the  assassin, 
our  prestige  will  be  destroyed, 
as  it  should  be,  in  every  corner 
of  the  world. 

There  was  once  a  man  who, 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  told 
the  aspiring  youth  of  this 
country  "  to  get  on  or  get 
out."  It  was  a  sordid  gospel 


that  he  preached,  a  doctrine 
to  which  all  decent  history 
gives  the  lie,  but  it  chimed 
harmoniously  with  the  temper 
of  our  time,  and  he  who 
preached  it  thought,  no  doubt, 
that  he  was  justified  in  his 
enterprise  by  the  applause  of 
the  world.  Such  maxims  as 
"  nothing  succeeds  like  suc- 
cess "  bring  a  kind  of  solace 
to  the  greedy,  who  are  not  so 
foolish  as  to  care  what  it  is 
that  success  means.  However, 
we  live  in  an  age  when  "  money 
talks,"  and  though  the  path- 
ways to  success  are  many  and 
devious,  they  end  one  and  all 
at  the  same  goals — a  large 
balance  at  the  bank  and  a 
seat  in  the  House  of  Lords. 
One  of  the  most  "  successful  " 
men  of  our  time  has  won  a 
vast  fortune  and  all  the  honours 
which  attend  upon  wealth  by 
carrying  down  into  the  cottage 
homes  of  England  the  glad 
tidings  of  crime  and  outrage. 
He  has  lightened  the  dulness 
of  our  British  Sabbath  by 
showing  the  innocent  once  a 
week  how  the  vicious  live. 
Thus  he  ensures  himself  a 
vast  circulation.  The  success- 
ful men  of  our  day  generally 
depend  upon  such  a  "  circula- 
tion "  as  Harvey  never  dreamed 
of,  and  a  newspaper  is  the 
easiest  stepping-stone  to  gran- 
deur. It  matters  not  much 
what  is  said  in  it.  What  does 
matter  is  that  it  should  be 
read  by  three  millions  of  foolish 
citizens.  And  then  success  is 
instantly  assured. 

Indeed  there  are  a  hundred 
methods    of    making    money. 


840 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Dec. 


Soap  is  very  fertile  in  pro- 
ducing wealth,  though  some 
prefer  to  "  play  the  stock 
market."  But  by  whatever 
means  the  precious  gold  is 
collected,  the  result  is  sanctified 
to  the  collector.  He  hastens 
to  place  upon  his  head  a  gilded 
crown.  He  believes  very 
speedily  that  he  is  not  as 
other  men.  The  clay  of  which 
a  rich  man  is  compounded  is  of 
a  finer  quality  than  that  which 
encloses  the  starved  soul  of 
the  wretch  who  looks  forward 
to  nothing  better  than  "  a 
pension  of  £2000  a  year. ' '  Here, 
for  instance,  is  Lord  Beaver- 
brook,  who  has  written  a  re- 
ligious tract  called  '  Success,' 
and  who,  after  a  strenuous 
and  triumphant  career,  still 
speaks  of  "  money "  with  a 
pious  fervour  and  an  ardent 
enthusiasm.  It  is  touching 
to  note  with  what  reverence 
he  approaches  the  hard  sub- 
stance —  gold  —  which  he  has 
spent  his  life  in  gathering. 
He  is  kind  enough  to  recognise, 
so  he  tells  us,  "  the  existence 
of  other  ambitions  in  the  walks 
of  Art,  Eeligion,  or  Litera- 
ture." But  these  are  not 
"  practical  affairs,"  and  it  is 
"  practical  affairs  "  which  en- 
gross this  noble  author.  Nor 
can  "  practical  affairs  "  be  ex- 
pressed otherwise  than  in  the 
currency  of  gold  and  silver. 
It  is  money  that  is  at  once 
our  guest  and  our  goddess. 
"  Money,"  says  Lord  Beaver- 
brook,  in  a  tender  passage — 
"  money — the  word  has  a  mag- 
ical sound.  It  conjures  up 
before  the  vision  some  kind 


of  enchanted  paradise  where 
to  wish  is  to  have — Aladdin's 
lamp  brought  down  to  earth." 
Alas  for  the  vanity  of  human 
wishes !  The  whole  pleasure 
of  money  is  in  the  heart.  The 
richest  man  upon  earth  cannot 
eat  or  drink  more  than  the 
poor  fool  who  is  content  with 
a  moderate  income,  and  all 
the  garnered  wealth  of  the 
East  could  not  help  its  pos- 
sessor to  taste  the  finer  flavours 
of  life  and  art  if  he  had  not 
been  born  with  a  palate  and 
an  eye. 

Thus  it  is  a  simple  scale  of 
measuring  success  to  look  at 
a  man's  banking  account,  and 
it  is  clear  that  Lord  Beaver- 
brook  gives  advice  to  others 
because  he  is  absolutely  satis- 
fied with  his  own  career.  "  The 
first  key  which  opens  the  door 
of  success,"  says  he  in  his 
simple  style,  "  is  the  trading 
instinct ;  the  knowledge  and 
sense  of  the  real  value  of  any 
article.  Without  it  a  man 
need  not  trouble  to  enter  busi- 
ness at  all,  but  if  he  possesses 
it  even  in  a  rudimentary  form, 
he  can  cultivate  it  in  the  early 
days  when  the  mind  is  still 
plastic,  until  it  develops  beyond 
all  recognition."  There  is  a 
lofty  ideal  to  set  before  the 
rising  generation  !  Lord  Bea- 
verbrook  was,  of  course,  pecu- 
liarly gifted,  or  he  could  not 
have  attained  the  eminent  posi- 
tion which  is  his  to-day.  "When 
I  was  a  boy,"  he  confesses,  "  I 
knew  the  value  in  exchange 
of  every  marble  in  my  village." 
Thus  was  he  marked  out  for 
future  grandeur.  And  when 


1921.] 


Lord  BeaverbrooTc  on  Himself. 


841 


he  turned  his  austere  mind 
from  marbles  to  objects  of 
greater  worth,  he  "  always  had 
an  intuitive  perception  of  the 
real  and  not  the  face  value  of 
any  article."  So  he  chose  for 
himself  the  only  sound  method 
of  education.  When  other  boys 
confused  their  starveling  brains 
with  the  Latin  grammar  or 
the  works  of  Shakespeare,  he 
knew  how  to  exchange  marbles, 
and  we  may  well  believe  that 
he  did  not  get  the  worse  of  his 
bargains. 

Nor  is  Lord  Beaverbrook 
haunted  by  any  doubts. 
"  Money  which  is  striven  for 
brings  with  it  the  real  qualities 
of  life,"  says  he  dogmatically. 
"  Here  are  the  counters  which 
mark  character  and  brains. 
The  money  brain  is,  in  the 
modern  world,  the  supreme 
brain."  There  you  have  the 
plain  truth,  stripped  of  all 
embellishment.  Poetry  will 
scarcely  feed  the  sad  poet 
himself.  The  self-denial  and 
devotion  of  the  artist  are  wasted 
upon  a  barren  age.  A  circula- 
tion of  three  millions,  with 
the  solid  profit  that  it  brings, 
is  a  better  thing  to  achieve, 
even  though  the  best  of  its 
news  comes  from  the  Old 
Bailey.  Why  f  Because  it 
gives  clear  proof  of  the  money 
brain,  and  "  because  that  which 
the  greatest  number  of  men 
strive  for  will  produce  the 
fiercest  competition  of  intel- 
lect." 

As,  then,  it  is  to  the  money- 
bags we  must  look  for  intel- 
lect, it  follows  that  there  is 
no  need  to  educate  the  supreme, 


the  money  brain.  Lord  Beaver- 
brook's  own  education  was  "  of 
a  most  rudimentary  descrip- 
tion/' and  what  he  rejected 
need  not  be  esteemed  by 
any  one  of  us.  Indeed,  we  are 
told  by  the  great  hero  himself 
that  if  a  young  man  is  not 
stamped  with  the  hall-mark  of 
Oxford  or  Cambridge,  he  has 
"  possibly  escaped  a  grave  dan- 
ger." The  boy  who  is  kept 
too  busy  with  his  books  may 
overlook  the  exchange  value 
of  marbles,  and  he  will  lose  at 
the  outset  all  chance  of  be- 
coming great  with  the  only 
greatness  that  is  worth  achiev- 
ing. And  when  he  leaves 
marbles  behind,  he  is  not  likely 
ever  to  know  the  thrill  of  the 
first  £10,000.  "There  is  the 
real  struggle,  "says  Lord  Beaver- 
brook,  "  the  test  of  character, 
and  the  warranty  of  success. 
Youth  and  strength  are  given 
us  to  use  in  that  first  struggle, 
and  a  man  must  feel  those 
early  deals  right  down  to  the 
pit  of  his  stomach  if  he  is 
going  to  be  a  great  man  of 
business."  How  we  have  been 
misguided  !  We  have  always 
believed  that  youth  and 
strength  were  given  us  to  dis- 
cover as  best  we  could  the 
meaning  and  the  beauty  of 
the  world  about  us,  to  learn 
the  lofty  lessons  taught  us  by 
the  past,  to  delight  in  the 
mighty-mouthed  harmonies  of 
the  poets.  Not  a  bit  of  it ! 
Youth  and  strength  were  given 
us  to  make  the  first  £10,000, 
which  counts,  and  unless  grand- 
eur and  success  are  to  perish 
upon  the  earth,  the  lesson 


842 


Musings  without  Method. 


[Dec.  1921. 


taught   by   Lord   Beaverbrook 
must  not  be  forgotten. 

The  apostles  of  success  are 
never  more  interesting  than 
when  they  point  their  moral 
with  snippets  of  biography, 
and  Lord  Beaverbrook  does 
not  disappoint  us.  "  Shelley 
had  genius,"  he  is  kind  enough 
to  say,  "  but  he  would  not 
have  been  a  success  in  Wall 
Street,  though  the  poet  showed 
a  flash  of  business  knowledge 
in  refusing  to  lend  Byron 
money."  There  is  the  practical 
kind  of  literary  criticism  which 
all  aspirants  to  success  will 
appreciate.  With  a  light  hand 
also  and  a  profound  know- 
ledge of  history,  Lord  Beaver- 
brook has  sketched  his  friend 
the  Prime  Minister.  "  He  sips 
a  single  glass  of  burgundy  at 
dinner  for  the  obvious  reason 
that  he  enjoys  it,  and  not 
because  it  might  stimulate  his 
activities.  He  has  given  up 
the  use  of  tobacco.  Boling- 
broke,  as  a  master  of  man- 
oauvres,  would  have  had  a 
poor  chance  against  him."  Is 
there  anything  else  that  you 
would  wish  to  know  about  our 
Prime  Minister  than  is  ex- 
pressed in  these  few  intimate 
words  ?  We  think  not ;  and 
if  only  Lord  Beaverbrook  had 
not  in  his  boyhood  learned  the 


exchange  value  of  every  marble 
in  the  village,  he  might  have 
been  a  profound  historian.  But 
Success  with  a  capital  cannot  be 
achieved  in  the  world  of  letters. 
Admirable  also  is  the  follow- 
ing brief  sketch  of  the  Lord 
Chancellor  :  "  Although  the 
most  formidable  enemy  of  the 
Pussyfooters  and  the  most 
powerful  protector  of  freedom 
in  the  social  habits  of  the 
people  that  the  Cabinet  con- 
tains, he  is,  like  Mr  Bonar 
Law,  a  teetotaller.  It  is  this 
capacity  for  governing  himself 
which  is  pointing  upwards  to 
still  greater  heights  of  power." 
Who  is  there  so  churlish  as 
not  to  rejoice  that  Lord  Birken- 
head,  by  governing  himself, 
still  points  upward  to  the 
heights  of  power  ?  The  sketch 
is  drawn  by  the  master  hand 
of  a  practical  and  successful 
man.  And  yet  when  we  laid 
aside  Lord  Beaverbrook's  book, 
we  could  not  but  wonder 
whether  in  the  world  of  art 
and  literature  there  is  not  a 
beauty  which  escapes  the  trad- 
ing instinct,  and  which,  if 
only  he  were  sensitive  to  its 
influence,  would  persuade  even 
our  noble  author  himself  that 
the  value  of  marbles  was  not 
the  best  or  the  only  lesson  fit 
for  a  boy  to  learn. 


INDEX    TO    VOL.    OCX. 


A.  E. ,  the  doctrines  of,  705. 
ADVENTURE  WITH  ARABS,  AN,  145. 
ARABS,  AN  ADVENTURE  WITH,  145. 
As    BEFITS    MY     POSITION.      By   Mrs 

SAMUEL  PEPYS  (Being  Extracts  from 

her  Diary),  91,  269. 
Assassins,  peace  with,  281. 
AUSTIN,   Brig. -General  H.   H.  :  RIFLE 

THIEVES  OF  IRAQ,  492. 
Average  man,  the,  139, 

BARATARIA,  JOTTINGS  FROM,  255. 

BARE  FORESTS,  319. 

BARTIMEUS  :  A  MAN  IN  THE  MAKING, 
44. 

Beaverbrook,  Lord,  on  himself,  840. 

BLACKER,  L.  V.  S.  :  THE  FORBIDDEN- 
FORTRESS  OF  KHURASAN,  824. 

BLADES,  DESERT,  565. 

BLOOD,  VENGEANCE  OF,  103. 

BLUE  MOUNTAINS,  25. 

B.,  L.  V.  S.  :  KHUDU,  373. 

BOLSHEVIK  PRISONS,  AN  ENGLISH- 
WOMAN'S EXPERIENCES  IN,  707. 

BOTT,  ALAN  :  VENGEANCE  OF  BLOOD, 
103. 

BOWLER,  L.  :  AN  ENGLISHWOMAN'S 
EXPERIENCES  IN  BOLSHEVIK  PRISONS, 
707. 

BROWNE,  DOUGLAS  G.  :  MR  OPENSHAW 
PRESENTS ,  234. 

Carpentier    and    Dempsey    prize-fight, 

277. 

CEYLON,  AN  OUTLAW  OF  OLD,  778. 
CEYLON  JUNGLE,  IN  CAMP  IN  A,  538. 
Chamberlain,    Mr,    and    the    Unionist 

party,  837. 
Churchill,  Lord  Randolph,  pen-portrait 

of,  698. 
Classics,    the    story    of    the,    417 — an 

American  professor  on,  423. 
COMPTON,  A.  C.  :  SOME  TRIBULATIONS 

OF  A  PUBLIC  SERVANT,  809. 


DAWLISH,  HOPE  :  Two  HOTELS.  '  I. 
The  Wagons  Lits  Hotel,  Peking — 
A  Pre-War  Recollection,  349.  II. 
The  Dom  Hotel,  Cologne— A  Post- 
War  Impression,  361. 

Democracy,  Mr  Bancroft  on,  135— Sir 
Henry  Maine  on.  ib. — Viscount  Bryce 
on,  ib.—  failure  of,  141— Irish,  143. 

Dempsey  and  Carpentier  prize-fight, 
277. 

DESERT  BLADES,  565. 

Devil,  a  truce  of  the,  283. 

ELEPHANTS,  ON  THE  MARCH  WITH,  251. 
EMERALD   ISLE,    A   FISHING   TRIP   IN 

THE,  734. 
EMERALD  ISLE,   A  SHOOTING  TRIP  IN 

THE,  466. 
Esher,  Lord,  '  The  Tragedy  '  of,  562. 

FELICITAS — A  Tale  of  Mexico,  655. 

" FIGHT  FANS" — AND  "THE  FOURTH," 

262. 
FISHING  TRIP  IN  THE  EMERALD  ISLE, 

A,  734. 

FORESTS,  BABE,  319. 
FROM  THE  OUTPOSTS  : — 

ON  THE   MARCH  WITH  ELEPHANTS, 
251. 

JOTTINGS  FROM  BARATARIA,  255. 

A  FALSE   PROPHET  IN  THE  SUDAN, 
402. 

THE  HIGHER  EDUCATION,  410. 

SEVEN    YEARS    OF    WAR    AND    THE 
SALT  RANGE,  454. 

GRAHAM,  ALAN:    THE  VOYAGE  HOME, 

69,  173. 

GOLDSMITH,  OLIVER,  221. 
Greek  literature  for  the  Greekless,  421. 
GREEN  HILLS,  639. 

HANNAY,  DAVID  :  THE  LORD  PHAULKON, 
524. 


844 


Index. 


HAZARDOUS  SERVICE,  ON,  120. 
HEATHER    MIXTURE,    382,    429,    582, 

788. 

HIGHER  EDUCATION,  THE,  410. 
HILLS,  GREEN,  639. 
HOTELS,  Two,  349,  361. 
Humanity,  treaty  for  the  advancement 

of,  143. 

IN  CAMP  IN  A  CEYLON  JUNGLE,  538. 

IRAQ,  RIFLE  THIEVES  OF,  492. 

Ireland,  and  Cromwell,  280 — and  De 
Valera,  281— General  Smuts  and,  284 
— not  a  nation,  552— Sir  James  Craig 
and,  703. 

Jewish  demands  in  America,  561. 
JOTTINGS  FROM  BARATARIA,  255. 

KHUDU,  373. 

KHURASAN,  THE  FORBIDDEN  FORTRESS 

OF,  824. 
KLAXON  :     HEATHER    MIXTURE,    382, 

429,  582,  788. 

LAMB,  MERVYN  :  ON  HAZARDOUS  SER- 
VICE, 120. 

Lecky,  Mr,  wise  words  of,  701. 

Lindsay,  Mrs,  murder  of,  555. 

Lloyd  George,  Mr,  negotiates  with  De 
Valera  and  Sinn  Feiners,  281,  552, 
556,  702— the  primrose  path  of,  832— 
his  favourite  argument,  833 — threat 
to  resign,  835 — his  glass  of  burgundy, 
842. 

LONG,  A.  W.  :  — 
A  SHOOTING  TRIP  IN  THE  EMERALD 

ISLF.  466. 

A  FISHING  TRIP  IN   THE   EMERALD 
ISLE,  734. 

Lord  Chancellor's  secret,  the,  842. 

Lovelace,  Lord,  '  Astarte '  by,  285 — 
indiscretion  of,  287. 

M 'Gorton,  Dr,  and  the  Vatican,  144. 

MACMAHON,  ELLA  :  VIGNETTES,  515. 

MAN  IN  THE  MAKING,  A,  44. 

MARSHALL,  ANDREW  :  FELICITAS  —  A 
Tale  of  Mexico,  655. 

MARTIN,  JASPER  :  AN  OUTLAW  OF  OLD 
CEYLON,  778. 

MONTAGUE,  C.  E. :  A  TRADE  REPORT 
ONLY,  335. 

MOUNTAINS,  BLUE,  25. 

Murder,  general  condonation  of,  555. 

MUSINGS  WITHOUT  METHOD  :  July, 
135— August,  277— September,  416— 
October,  552 — November,  694 — Decem- 
ber, 832. 

Oliver  Cromwell  and  Ireland,  280. 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH,  221. 

ON  HAZARDOUS  SERVICE,  120. 


OPENSHAW,  MR,  PRESENTS ,  234. 

Opportunism,  the  triumph  of,  427. 
OUTLAW  OF  OLD  CEYLON,  AN,  778. 

PEPYS,   MRS  SAMUEL  :   As  BEFITS  MY 

POSITION,  91,  269. 
PHAULKON,  THE  LORD,  524. 
P. ,     J. :     THE    HIGHER    EDUCATION, 

410. 

'Protocols,'  authenticity  of  the,  558. 
PUBLIC  SERVANT,  SOME  TRIBULATIONS 

OF  A,  809. 
"PUNJAB  CAPTAIN":  SEVEN  YEARS  OF 

WAR  AND  THE  SALT  RANGE,  454. 

REVOLUTION,  WORLD,  764. 

R.I.C.,  TALES  OF  THE,  1,  199,  289, 
610. 

RIFLE  THIEVES  OF  IRAQ,  492. 

Rosebery,  Lord,  '  Miscellanies '  of,  694 
— and  the  Nonconformists,  697 — pen- 
portrait  of  Lord  Randolph  Churchill, 
698. 

SALT  RANGE,  SEVEN  YEARS  OF  WAR 

AND  THE,  455. 
SHOOTING  TRIP  IN  THE  EMERALD  ISLE, 

A,  466. 
Sinn   Fein,    the  surrender  to,  552 — its 

effect  upon  the  British  Empire,  554— 

and  Ulster,  703. 
SMYTH,     H.     WARINGTON  :     ON    THE 

MARCH  WITH  ELEPHANTS,  251. 
Sport,  the  vulgarisation  of,  278. 
STRAHAN,  J.  A.  :  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH, 

221. 

'  Success,'  Lord  Beaverbrook's  tract,  840. 
SUDAN,   A    FALSE    PROPHET    IN    THE, 

402. 
Swapping  England's  honour  for  Ulster's 

ruin,  835. 

TALES  OF  THE  R.I.C.  :  IX.  The  Re- 
ward of  Loyalty,  1 — X.  Poteen,  10 — 

XI.  The    Mayor's    Conscience,   17 — 

XII.  A  Brutal   Murder,    199— XIII. 
Seal    Island,   204— XIV.    A    Family 
Affair,     212  — XV.      The     American 
Nurse,  289— XVI.  Father  John,  297 
—XVII.     The     Bog    Cemetery,    304 
XVIII.    A   Jew  in   Gaelic   Clothing, 
314— XIX.  Mountain  Warfare,  610— 
XX.  The  Great  Round-up,  620— XXI. 
The  Truce,  630. 

"THE  FOURTH,"  "FIGHT  FANS" — AND, 
262. 

Todas,  curious  manners  and  customs 
of  the,  28. 

TRADE  REPORT  ONLY,  A,  335. 

Treaty  for  the  advancement  of  human- 
ity, 143. 

Two  HOTELS  :  I.  The  Wagon  Lits 
Hotel,  Peking,  349—11.  The  Dom 
Hotel,  Cologne,  361. 


Index. 


845 


VENGEANCE  OF  BLOOD,  103. 

VICKERY,    Lieut.  -  Colonel    C.    E. :     A 

FALSE  PKOPHET  IN  THE  SUDAN,  402. 
VIGNETTES  :    XV.    The   Station-master 

at  Aghole,  515— XVI.  Kate  Higgin, 

520. 
VOYAGE  HOME,  THE,  69,  173. 

Wilson,  Mr  Woodrow,  the  table-talk  of, 
834. 

WORLD  REVOLUTION,  764.  Early  dawn 
of  Socialism,  765 — of  Freemasonry,  ib. 
— Order  of  the  Illuminati,  ib. — aims 
of  the  Order,  766  — Christ  Grand 
Master  of  the  Order,  767 — women 
enlisted  as  members,  768 — Mrs  Web- 


ster's '  The  French  Revolution,'  ib. — 
State  Socialism  invented,  770 — advo- 
cates of  equality,  771 — Jews  not  agi- 
tators, 772 — Disraeli's  opinion  of,  ib. 
— "  the  Bible  of  the  Working  Classes," 
774 — Marxian  Socialism,  775 — a  '  Re- 
volutionary Catechism,'  ib. — revolu- 
tionists in  Europe  to-day,  776. 

X.  :— 

BLUE  MOUNTAINS,  25. 
BARE  FORESTS,  319. 
GREEN  HILLS,  639. 

YOUNG,   DESMOND:   "FIGHT  FANS" — 
AND  "THE  FOURTH,"  262. 


Printed  by  William  Blackwood  and  Sons. 


AP       Blackwood's  magazine 

4 

B6 

v.210 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
CARDS  OR  SLIPS  FROM  THIS  POCKET 

UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO  LIBRARY