Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) (714 page)

‘My Gawd!’ This came from Anthony’s scornful midmost bosom.

‘“Accordin’ to the unwritten law of the ‘Eavies,” says ‘Ammick, “there’s no objection to the men chalkin’ the guns, if decency is preserved. On the other ‘and,” says he, “we ‘aven’t yet settled the precise status of individuals entitled so to do. I ‘old that the privilege is confined to combatants only.”

‘“With the permission of the Court,” says Mosse, who was another born lawyer, “I’d like to be allowed to join issue on that point. Prisoner’s position is very delicate an’ doubtful, an’ he has no legal representative.”

‘“Very good,” says ‘Ammick. “Macklin bein’ acquitted — ”

‘“With submission, me lud,” says Mosse. “I hope to prove ‘e was accessory before the fact.”

‘“As you please,” says ‘Ammick. “But in that case, ‘oo the ‘ell’s goin’ to get the port I’m tryin’ to stand the Court?”

‘“I submit,” says Mosse, “prisoner, bein’ under direct observation o’ the Court, could be temporarily enlarged for that duty.”

‘So Macklin went an’ got it, an’ the B.S.M. had ‘is glass with the rest. Then they argued whether mess servants an’ non-combatants was entitled to chalk the guns (‘Ammick versus Mosse). After a bit, ‘Ammick as C.O. give ‘imself best, an’ me an’ Macklin was severely admonished for trespassin’ on combatants’ rights, an’ the B.S.M. was warned that if we repeated the offence ‘e could deal with us summ’rily. He ‘ad some glasses o’ port an’ went out quite ‘appy. Then my turn come, while Macklin was gettin’ them their tea; an’ one thing leadin’ to another, ‘Ammick put me through all the Janeite Degrees, you might say. ‘Never ‘ad such a doin’ m my life.’

‘Yes, but what did you tell ‘em?’ said Anthony. ‘I can’t ever think my lies quick enough when I’m for it.’

‘No need to lie. I told ‘em that the backside view o’ the Skoda, when she was run up, put Lady De Bugg into my ‘ead. They gave me right there, but they said I was wrong about General Tilney. ‘Cordin’ to them, our Navy twelve-inch ought to ‘ave been christened Miss Bates. I said the same idea ‘ad crossed my mind, till I’d seen the General’s groovin’. Then I felt it had to be the General or nothin’. But they give me full marks for the Reverend Collins-our Nine-point-two.’

‘An’ you fed ‘em that sort o’ talk?’ Anthony’s fox-coloured eyebrows climbed almost into his hair.

‘While I was assistin’ Macklin to get tea-yes. Seem’ it was an examination, I wanted to do ‘im credit as a Janeite.’

‘An’-an’ what did they say?’

‘They said it was ‘ighly creditable to us both. I don’t drink, so they give me about a hundred fags.’

‘Gawd! What a Circus you must ‘ave been,’ was Anthony’s gasping comment.

‘It was a ‘appy little Group. I wouldn’t ‘a changed with any other.’

Humberstall sighed heavily as he helped Anthony slide back the organ- panel. We all admired it in silence, while Anthony repocketed his secret polishing mixture, which lived in a tin tobacco-box. I had neglected my work for listening to Humberstall. Anthony reached out quietly and took over a Secretary’s jewel and a rag. Humberstall studied his reflection in the glossy wood.

‘Almost,’ he said critically, holding his head to one side.

‘Not with an Army. You could with a Safety, though,’ said Anthony. And, indeed, as Brother Burges had foretold, one might have shaved in it with comfort.

‘Did you ever run across any of ‘em afterwards, any time?’ Anthony asked presently.

‘Not so many of ‘em left to run after, now. With the ‘Eavies it’s mostly neck or nothin’. We copped it. In the neck. In due time.’

‘Well, you come out of it all right.’ Anthony spoke both stoutly and soothingly; but Humberstall would not be comforted.

‘That’s right; but I almost wish I ‘adn’t,’ he sighed. ‘I was ‘appier there than ever before or since. Jerry’s March push in ‘Eighteen did us in; an’ yet, ‘ow could we ‘ave expected it?’Ow could we ‘ave expected it? We’d been sent back for rest an’ runnin’-repairs, back pretty near our base; an’ our old loco’ that used to shift us about o’ nights, she’d gone down the line for repairs. But for ‘Ammick we wouldn’t even ‘ave ‘ad our camouflage-screens up. He told our Brigadier that, whatever ‘e might be in the Gunnery line, as a leadin’ Divorce lawyer he never threw away a point in argument. So ‘e ‘ad us all screened in over in a cuttin’ on a little spur-line near a wood; an’ ‘e saw to the screens ‘imself. The leaves weren’t more than comin’ out then, an’ the sun used to make our glue-paint stink. Just like actin’ in a theatre, it was! But ‘appy. But ‘appy! I expect if we’d been caterpillars, like the new big six-inch hows, they’d ha’ remembered us. But we was the old La Bassee ‘15 Mark o’ Heavies that ran on rails-not much more good than scrap-iron that late in the war. An’, believe me, gents-or Brethren, as I should say-we copped it cruel. Look ‘ere! It was in the afternoon, an’ I was watchin’ Gander instructin’ a class in new sights at Lady Catherine. All of a sudden I ‘eard our screens rip overhead, an’ a runner on a motor-bike come sailin’, sailin’ through the air-like that bloke that used to bicycle off Brighton Pier-and landed one awful wop almost atop o’ the class. “‘Old ‘ard,” says Gander. “That’s no way to report. What’s the fuss?” “Your screens ‘ave broke my back, for one thing,” says the bloke on the ground; “an’ for another, the ‘ole front’s gone.” “Nonsense,” says Gander. ‘E ‘adn’t more than passed the remark when the man was vi’lently sick an’ conked out. ‘E ‘ad plenty papers on ‘im from Brigadiers and C.O.’s reporting ‘emselves cut off an’ askin’ for orders. ‘E was right both ways-his back an’ our front. The ‘ole Somme front washed out as clean as kiss-me-’and!’ His huge hand smashed down open on his knee.

‘We ‘eard about it at the time in the ‘Oly Land. Was it reelly as quick as all that?’ said Anthony.

‘Quicker! Look ‘ere! The motor-bike dropped in on us about four pip- emma. After that, we tried to get orders o’ some kind or other, but nothin’ came through excep’ that all available transport was in use and not likely to be released. That didn’t ‘elp us any. About nine o’clock comes along a young Brass ‘At in brown gloves. We was quite a surprise to ‘im. ‘E said they were evacuating the area and we’d better shift. “Where to?” says ‘Ammick, rather short.

‘“Oh, somewhere Amiens way,” he says. “Not that I’d guarantee Amiens for any length o’ time; but Amiens might do to begin with.” I’m giving you the very words. Then ‘e goes off swingin’ ‘is brown gloves, and ‘Ammick sends for Gander and orders ‘im to march the men through Amiens to Dieppe; book thence to New’aven, take up positions be’ind Seaford, an’ carry on the war. Gander said ‘e’d see ‘im damned first. ‘Ammick says ‘e’d see ‘im courtmartialled after. Gander says what ‘e meant to say was that the men ‘ud see all an’ sundry damned before they went into Arniens with their gunsights wrapped up in their puttees. ‘Ammick says ‘e ‘adn’t said a word about puttees, an’ carryin’ off the gunsights was purely optional. “Well, anyhow,” says Gander, “puttees or drawers, they ain’t goin’ to shift a step unless you lead the procession.”

‘“Mutinous ‘ounds,” says ‘Amrnick. “But we live in a democratic age. D’you suppose they’d object to kindly diggin’ ‘emselves in a bit?” “Not at all,” says Gander. “The B.S.M.’s kept ‘em at it like terriers for the last three hours.” “That bein’ so,” says ‘Ammick, “Macklin’ll now fetch us small glasses o’ port.” Then Mosse comes in-he could smell port a mile off-an’ he submits we’d only add to the congestion in Amiens if we took our crowd there, whereas, if we lay doggo where we was, Jerry might miss us, though he didn’t seem to be missin’ much that evenin’.

‘The ‘ole country was pretty noisy, an’ our dumps we’d lit ourselves flarin’ heavens-high as far as you could see. Lyin’ doggo was our best chance. I believe we might ha’ pulled it off, if we’d been left alone, but along towards midnight-there was some small stuff swishin’ about, but nothin’ particular-a nice little bald-headed old gentleman in uniform pushes into the dug-out wipin’ his glasses an’ sayin’ ‘e was thinkin’ o’ formin’ a defensive flank on our left with ‘is battalion which ‘ad just come up. ‘Ammick says ‘e wouldn’t form much if ‘e was ‘im. “Oh, don’t say that,” says the old gentleman, very shocked. “One must support the Guns, mustn’t one?” “‘Ammick says we was refittin’ an’ about as effective, just then, as a public lav’tory. “Go into Amiens,” he says, “an’ defend ‘em there.” “Oh no,” says the old gentleman, “me an’ my laddies must make a defensive flank for you,” an’ he flips out of the dug-out like a performin’ bullfinch, chirruppin’ for his “laddies.” Gawd in ‘Eaven knows what sort o’ push they was-little boys mostly-but they ‘ung on to ‘is coat-tails like a Sunday-school treat, an’ we ‘eard ‘em muckin’ about in the open for a bit. Then a pretty tight barrage was slapped down for ten minutes, an’ ‘Ammick thought the laddies had copped it already. “It’ll be our turn next,” says Mosse. “There’s been a covey o’ Gothas messin’ about for the last ‘alf-hour-lookin’ for the Railway Shops, I expect. They’re just as likely to take us.” “Arisin’ out o’ that,” says ‘Ammick, “one of ‘em sounds pretty low down now. We’re for it, me learned colleagues!” “Jesus!” says Gander, “I believe you’re right, sir.” And that was the last word I ‘eard on the matter.’

‘Did they cop you then?’ said Anthony.

‘They did. I expect Mosse was right, an’ they took us for the Railway Shops. When I come to, I was lyin’ outside the cuttin’, which was pretty well filled up. The Reverend Collins was all right; but Lady Catherine and the General was past prayin’ for. I lay there, takin’ it in, till I felt cold an’ I looked at meself. Otherwise, I ‘adn’t much on excep’ me boots. So I got up an’ walked about to keep warm. Then I saw somethin’ like a mushroom in the moonlight. It was the nice old gentleman’s bald ‘ead. I patted it. ‘im and ‘is laddies ‘ad copped it right enough. Some battalion run out in a ‘urry from England, I suppose. They ‘adn’t even begun to dig in-pore little perishers! I dressed myself off ‘em there, an’ topped off with a British warm. Then I went back to the cuttin’ an’ some one says to me: “Dig, you ox, dig! Gander’s under.” So I ‘elped shift things till I threw up blood an’ bile mixed. Then I dropped, an’ they brought Gander out-dead-an’ laid ‘im next me. ‘Ammick ‘ad gone too-fair tore in ‘alf, the B.S.M. said; but the funny thing was he talked quite a lot before ‘e died, an’ nothin’ to ‘im below ‘is stummick, they told me. Mosse we never found. ‘E’d been standing by Lady Catherine. She’d up-ended an’ gone back on ‘em, with ‘alf the cuttin’ atop of ‘er, by the look of things.’

‘And what come to Macklin?’ said Anthony.

‘Dunno...’E was with ‘Ammick. I expect I must ha’ been blown clear of all by the first bomb; for I was the on’y Janeite left. We lost about half our crowd, either under, or after we’d got ‘em out. The B.S.M. went off ‘is rocker when mornin’ came, an’ he ran about from one to another sayin’: “That was a good push! That was a great crowd! Did ye ever know any push to touch ‘em?” An’ then ‘e’d cry. So what was left of us made off for ourselves, an’ I came across a lorry, pretty full, but they took me in.’

‘Ah!’ said Anthony with pride. ‘“They all take a taxi when it’s rainin’.” ‘Ever ‘eard that song?’

‘They went a long way back. Then I walked a bit, an’ there was a hospital-train fillin’ up, an’ one of the Sisters-a grey-headed one- ran at me wavin’ ‘er red ‘ands an’ sayin’ there wasn’t room for a louse in it. I was past carin’. But she went on talkin’ and talkin’ about the war, an’ her pa in Ladbroke Grove, an’ ‘ow strange for ‘er at ‘er time of life to be doin’ this work with a lot o’ men, an’ next war, ‘ow the nurses ‘ud ‘ave to wear khaki breeches on account o’ the mud, like the Land Girls; an’ that reminded ‘er, she’d boil me an egg if she could lay ‘ands on one, for she’d run a chicken-farm once. You never ‘eard anythin’ like it-outside o’ Jane. It set me off laughin’ again. Then a woman with a nose an’ teeth on ‘er, marched up. “What’s all this?” she says. “What do you want?” “Nothing,” I says, “only make Miss Bates, there, stop talkin’ or I’ll die.” “Miss Bates?” she says. “What in ‘Eaven’s name makes you call ‘er that?” “Because she is,” I says. “D’you know what you’re sayin’?” she says, an’ slings her bony arm round me to get me off the ground. “‘Course I do,” I says, “an’ if you knew Jane you’d know too.” “That’s enough,” says she. “You’re comin’ on this train if I have to kill a Brigadier for you,” an’ she an’ an ord’ly fair hove me into the train, on to a stretcher close to the cookers. That beef-tea went down well! Then she shook ‘ands with me an’ said I’d hit off Sister Molyneux in one, an’ then she pinched me an extra blanket. It was ‘er own ‘ospital pretty much. I expect she was the Lady Catherine de Bourgh of the area. Well, an’ so, to cut a long story short, nothing further transpired.’

‘‘Adn’t you ‘ad enough by then?’ asked Anthony.

‘I expect so. Otherwise, if the old Circus ‘ad been carryin’ on, I might ‘ave ‘ad another turn with ‘em before Armistice. Our B.S.M. was right. There never was a ‘appier push. ‘Ammick an’ Mosse an’ Gander an’ the B.S.M. an’ that pore little Macklin man makin’ an’ passin’ an’ raisin’ me an’ gettin’ me on to the ‘ospital train after ‘e was dead, all for a couple of Bradburys. I lie awake nights still, reviewing matters. There never was a push to touch ours-never!’

Anthony handed me back the Secretary’s Jewel resplendent.

‘Ah,’ said he. ‘No denyin’ that Jane business was more useful to you than the Roman Eagles or the Star an’ Garter. ‘Pity there wasn’t any of you Janeites in the ‘Oly Land. I never come across ‘em.’

‘Well, as pore Macklin said, it’s a very select Society, an’ you’ve got to be a Janeite in your ‘eart, or you won’t have any success. An’ yet he made me a Janeite! I read all her six books now for pleasure ‘tween times in the shop; an’ it brings it all back-down to the smell of the glue-paint on the screens. You take it from me, Brethren, there’s no one to touch Jane when you’re in a tight place. Gawd bless ‘er, whoever she was.’