*CHAPTER XXV*
"Any sign yet of Sir Hector? It's past the half-hour, and our time'sshort enough, goodness knows. You might look out, one of you, and see,will you?"
The speaker, Sir Thomas Moleyns, glanced up from the desk at which hesat, with a typewritten document before him. He alone of the assembledcrowd was seated, the remainder, all generals, were standing together ina group some distance away.
Moleyns, however, had already assumed the mantle of Lord Harford, justdeceased. With this garment upon his back, he had now discarded hisformer transparent cloak of subserviency, and was issuing orders boldlyin his own name, one of the said orders being the summons to attend thepresent conference at Headquarters.
All had obeyed save one. That one was his nominal chief, for nominalMoleyns intended him to be; if not, well, he had cards up his sleevehigher than any the other was likely to possess. If necessary, he wouldproduce these, but such necessity, he felt confident, was hardly likelyto arise, for Graeme would certainly knuckle under, as Lord Harford andall others with whom he had hitherto come in contact had done.
At his request, brigadiers, major-generals even, anxious to placate theall-powerful, hastened to the door. Then they suddenly stopped, andlooked back over Moleyn's head, to where the upper half of a top-hattedfigure was to be seen busily engaged in cutting an entrance through theside of the tent.
The Chief of the Staff was once more bending over his papers, and didnot note the rapidly-growing astonishment on the faces of his audience.
"Can't you see him?" he said, after a pause. "Really, this is----"
"It is. Good-morning, your Highness," and with an agile spring Graemeleapt in front of the desk, and, doffing his hat, bowed low. "And whatmay be your Nib's royal commands?" he continued. "Oh, pray be seated,"as Moleyns rose, and with narrowing eyes stood regarding the quaintfigure before him.
"As Chief of the General Staff, sir," he said, with an almost open sneerin his voice, "and the matter being urgent, I took the liberty ofsummoning these gentlemen to a conference."
"A liberty, Thomas? Oh, don't say that."
Moleyns coloured. "In the absence of the Commander-in-Chief, sir, Isubmit, with all respect, it's the duty of the Headquarter Staff to acton their own responsibility. Lord Harford took that view, sir."
"Lord Harford's offed it, Thomas, flown away aloft, and now it's bloodyHector Graeme who runs the show. 'Mad Jack' they call him. And Mad Jacknow says to Thomas, 'Shut up, you had your fun last night, and you ain'tgoing to have no more.'"
"Sir?"
"Stuff it! Jack commands his own bloody army his own bloody way, andthat way ain't Thomas's. Stop your cackling now; I jaw here. Off yourperch quick, and join the other blokes. Now, all of you get into line,and let's have a look at your dials; there's a lot I don't know."Mechanically the crowd shuffled into line and stood silently, whileGraeme passed along them, staring hard at each in turn. Opposite one hestopped, and then suddenly held out his hand.
"Long Nose," he said, "I'd know that bill in a thousand. What are youdoing here?"
"I'm commanding the tenth division, sir," answered Godwin, for he itwas, a flush rising to his face at the instant recognition.
"Nose seems longer--regular curlew's beak," said Graeme, and passed witha muttered "One good un, anyway." The inspection ended, he returned tothe desk, and, perching himself on it, sat there for a moment regardingthem.
"Blokes," he said at last, "I don't want ye here, nasty wet day to beout, but you can thank Thomas for that, not me. Still, now that you'vecome, I'm going to ask you all a conundrum. You know the hat we're in.Uriel's lot of thirty thousand, full of buck after last night'spantomime, in our front fifteen miles away; behind them one hundredthousand under Gabriel--a scorcher, Gabriel, I tell you--and from thewest, coming up fast, another eighty thousand under Michael, almost ashot as Gabriel. By to-morrow night we'll have at least two hundredthousand of the best against our scratch lot of a hundred and fiftythousand, that is, if they don't off it before then, which, from what Isaw as I came along, seems more than likely. There you have it in theneck, and I hope you like it. Now each of you in turn answer thisquestion--what are we to do? I'll begin with old Archibald there."
"Retreat, sir, to the coast, as quick as we can," was the ready answer.
"Get back to the ships."
"Retire."
"Retire."
"Slip away to-night."
"Have another go at 'em, sir. I can beat last night's lot off my ownbat. My men ain't Hearts of Oak, sir."
"Oho! and who are you, my fighting ram?"
"Fellowes, sir, Guards division," answered the speaker, a hugered-haired man with choleric, blue eyes.
"Hum ... and you?" passing on.
"Retire, sir, nothing else for it."
"Retire."
"Stay where we are, sir, and fight them as they come. We'll be wipedout, but that don't matter much; it's better than slinking home,anyway."
This from a skeleton of a man, with haggard face, large dark eyes, andhair patched with grey.
"Who are you, Drink or Colney Hatch?"
"Roy, sir, Lancashire division."
"Roy," repeated Graeme, passing on, "Roy. And you, Boko?"
"Retire, sir, but fight them all the way," said Godwin. "Retreat toCorunna, sir."
"And now we'll hear Thomas."
"Certainly retire, sir, it's the only possible course. The plans arealready drawn up, and here ready for your approval."
"Let's see them."
Moleyns' confidence returning at the request, he handed a document toGraeme, who thereupon rolled it up into a ball and threw it at theother's head. The Chief of the Staff, however, ducking in time, themissile flew over his head, hitting Sir Archibald Townsend in thestomach.
"Missed him!" cried Hector, annoyed, and then once more turned to hisaudience.
"Clear, all of you," he said, "back to your commands, and shove someheart into 'em, if you can; for, begad, they need it--so do you. Returnhere at two o'clock. I'll have something to tell you then."
All save one saluted and withdrew in silence. Moleyns stood beforeGraeme, with a mixture of defiance and uneasiness on his face.
"After what has occurred, sir," he said, with surface boldness, "thereis only one course, I think, for me to adopt, and with your permission,sir, I now tender my resignation as Chief of the Staff."
"You can go to the devil for all I care," was the answer, "get out!" andSir Thomas also withdrew, leaving Graeme alone.
"He's off to cable to Quibble," he muttered, looking after him. "Allright, let him; he won't get an answer, if I know anything about it.Hades, but I'm up against the politicians as usual, same as everyEnglish general's been, Marlborough, Wellington, and now poor oldHector. Cowardly brutes, sitting at home in the talking shop while we'refighting their battles. The enemy's not enough, they think; must fightthem as well. Never mind, I'm equal to them; the more against me thebetter I like it. Now what am I to do? Not an idea so far, except thatattack I must. It will come all right; I've only to ask. First thingis to appoint a new Chief of the Staff, don't suppose though one ofthose fellows would come, too frightened of Moleyns. Not much catch ifthey did; of the lot only two were for fighting, the curs. Still it hasto be one of them, but which? Fellowes, no; thick-headed fighting manand that only. Roy, too pessimistic. Ah, what about Godwin? He mightdo, and his old fancy for me still lasts; I could see it when I spoke tohim."
"Orderly," he called, "here, run after General Godwin--he's a bloke witha beak--and tell him I want him. Don't come back without him, d'yehear?"
The man vanished, and a quarter of an hour afterwards the sound ofgalloping hoofs was heard, followed by advancing footsteps. Then thecurtain was pushed aside, the long-nosed one entered, and stood atattention.
"I want you, Old Un," began Graeme, without preliminary, "as Chief ofthe Staff. Moleyns has given me notice. What d'ye say?"
God
win hesitated.
"I suppose you think," continued Hector, eyeing him, "that if I go underover this, Moleyns being Quibble's boy, it's a poor look out for you. Iain't going under, though; you mark that, old bird."
"I wasn't thinking that at all, sir," was the answer, "my career'sfinished, in any case, by age."
"Do what I ask, and you shall be Commander-in-Chief when you get back."
"What about you then, sir?"
"Me? I've done with it after this. I'll pull them through now, andthen home I go and speak out--tell the nation what sort of troopsQuibble and his like send out to face the best soldiers in the world.I'll do what Roberts ought to have done when he had the chance in 1900,but wasn't man enough to take it. He told them afterwards when he wasouted and had no further advancement to hope for; but no one wouldlisten then, and rightly--he hadn't the weight of office behind him.'Why didn't you speak then?' was a question he couldn't answer; 'we'dhave believed you if you had; now you're one of us, and we won't.You're a nobody now.' But I'm rambling, what's your objection?"
"That Chief of the Staff, sir, is an appointment made by the ArmyCouncil. What if they cancel mine by wire?"
"Leave that to me, will you or not?"
"Very well, sir, if you wish it; and I'm proud of the honour, sir."
"Here's what you're to do, then. Go back to your division and hand overto your next senior. Then deliver these orders," writing as he spoke,"to Sir Archibald Townsend and these five others. Out they go, that'sthe first thing."
"Sir," stammered Godwin, aghast at this high-handedness--"six generalsrelieved of their command. What reason, sir? They're bound to ask."
"Tell them I don't like their faces--nor I do. Now, see here,Cockalorum. Once upon a time at a field day, fifteen years ago, I wassold by a junior, and a lesson once given I never forget. I didn'tblaspheme, Godwin, I didn't whine, for no one cares why a fellow loses,or believes his reasons. No, I took the blame, but I swore that nevershould such a thing happen to me again. To keep those six generalsmeans six useless divisions, and every one of those divisions I shallwant. So ... out they go. Now, when you've done that, ride through thefollowing camps," giving him another paper, "don't ask questions, butkeep your eyes open, and let me know what you see. Be back here athalf-past one; that will give us half an hour before the generalsarrive. One thing more--tell the guard outside to post sentries roundthis tent, and on no account to let anyone pass till you come yourself."
"Very good, sir. Is that all?"
"Replace the present telegraph staff with men you personally know andcan trust. Give them orders that all messages, no matter to whomaddressed, are to be given into your hands or mine. That's all."
"Very good, sir," and Godwin went out leaving Graeme once more alone.
"Now for the plan," he muttered, and rising, he closed every door of themarquee in turn till the tent was plunged in gloom. Then, returning tohis seat, he dived into one of his voluminous pockets, from which heproduced the flask handed to him an hour before by Glover, and,unscrewing the top, drained its contents.
This done, from a leather case he took two of the five thin blackcigarettes it contained, and proceeded to smoke them slowly through, oneafter the other, with his head thrown back and eyes closed. Graduallythe drug and the cigarettes took effect, and Graeme stirred restlesslyin his chair, till at last, springing up, he commenced pacing rapidly upand down the tent.
"Two short hours," he muttered, "only two. Stara, why don't you come?I'm waiting."
Rapidly his excitement grew; the sweat poured down his grey, workingface, and he staggered as he walked.
"Stara, speak!" he shouted, and then stopped dead, with eyes glaringinto the gloom.
"Yes, yes," he whispered, "you're coming. I can hear those harps again,they're sounding louder. Ah!" with a scream, "the light--the light,Stara, beloved," and Hector threw out his arms, swayed for a moment, andthen, falling forward on to the ground, lay motionless.
A quarter of an hour passed, and then a faint tremor shook the stillfigure. He moved restlessly, tossing out his arms, then painfullyraised himself on his elbow, and looked vacantly around.
Slowly the light of understanding returned to his eyes. He struggled tohis feet, and groping his way to a chair lay back in it for someminutes, panting; then from his pocket he produced another flask--a tinygold one--and putting it to his lips gulped down the contents.
Rapidly the liquid fire ran through his numbed body, and a faint colourreturned to his cheeks. He sat up, his eyes bright with exultation."Koeniggratz, she said," he murmured, "only the one word, but enough,"and then, with full strength restored, he hurried over to the desk, andseizing pencil and paper began feverishly to write.
For over an hour he sat, covering sheet after sheet with his roundsprawling caligraphy, and flinging each sheet on the ground whenfinished, till a heap of paper rose by his side. His task completed, hegathered up the documents, pinned them together, and read them rapidlythrough. This done, he flung the bundle on the desk, and striding acrossto a large blackboard standing at one end of the tent chalked on it apicture--if it could be so designated when the drawing would havedisgraced a child of ten.
Barely was the work completed and the artist's signature subscribed,when footsteps were heard approaching. Hastily covering the board with acloth, Hector returned to his desk, which he reached as Godwin entered,with gloom written on his face.
"Raven!" roared Hector at the sight, and then ran to the tent-pole andbegan to shin rapidly up it, where he chanted, from the top:
"... grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore-- * * * * * Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
He then slithered down again, and stood once more on the floor.
"I'm sorry, sir, if I look a bit down," answered Godwin, forcing asmile, "but I've just been round those divisions, and it's been rather adepressing experience. Honestly, sir, I believe that once the retreatbegins half of them will be off, and if the enemy have good cavalrythey'll cut them down like sheep."
"So much the better, teach them not to run in the future; there'snothing like practical experience. But see here, take this and read,"throwing over his recent work as he spoke, "look sharp, those fellowswill be here in a minute."
Godwin took the papers, and read as directed. Half-way through thefirst page he stopped, and glanced up at the other, with a startledlook.
"It's not to be retreat, then?"
"It is not, Old Un; attack I will and must, till the sawdust's out ofme. But look here, those Napoleons are beginning to arrive. This willexplain quicker." He walked over to the blackboard, uncovered it, andstood watching Godwin's face as he looked. "Got it, Old Un, I see," hesaid, after a pause.
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, take those papers with you and read them later; you willfind it all fully laid down there, numbers and everything. Your jobwill be to get the main army in position by three a.m. to-morrowmorning. There are only three roads, so, to avoid jostling, some of thedivisions will have to move across country. You had better havecompass-bearings taken at once."
"And about Roy and Fellowes, sir?"
"I'll see them myself, and tell them what to do. Did you give thoseorders to Archibald and the others?"
"Yes, sir."
"What did they say?"
"Nothing to me, sir, but I believe they're all in Moleyns' tent now. Ifound out too that he has sent two cables this morning. I tried to seetheir contents, but the clerk refused to give them."
"Send for that clerk here, and put the poker in the fire."
"No one knows where he is, sir; the man's disappeared."
"Oh, well, never mind; we'll have the answer, which is all that matters.One thing more, what do you know of Roy?"
"First-rate man, sir, but ... reckless."
"Why?"
"Some trouble at home, sir, I believe," answered Godwin, colouring andlook
ing away.
"He'll do for the west road job, you think?"
"I believe he'd thank you for it, sir."
"Right; call those fellows in now; I can hear them shuffling aboutoutside."
In trooped the generals once more, with an even deeper cloud than beforeon their faces, for Moleyns had many adherents, and the news of hisresignation, coupled with that of the suspension of six of their number,had aroused ill-concealed resentment and alarm. They stood regardingGraeme with a certain curiosity, but without any semblance ofconfidence--nor were his opening words calculated to alter theiropinions.
"Rot me!" he said, staring at them, "a sadder-looking lot of blokesblowed if I ever saw together in a lump. Glorious war don't seem toagree with most of you, and that's a fact. Strike me stinking! how thedevil do you expect your men to chirp when you, their leaders, slopealong as happy-looking as a batch of oysters in the sun? Retreat, cutaway, back to your turkey and plum-pudding. That's all you're thinkingabout, eh, Old Guts?" turning to a portly officer, whose face wore aparticularly grave expression.
A stir of anger ran through his audience. The stout General's facecrimsoned, and then grew white.
"You're pleased to insult me, Sir Hector," he said, with cold dignity."My opinion, asked for by you, was, it is true, for retreat. Ibelieved, and still believe, it's the only thing to be done. I was notthinking of myself, but of the army. Now, however," he paused, bitinghis lips, and then his voice rang out, "I say go on and fight. Lose thearmy if you will, I don't care. After what you've said, I for one willnot return home. I will resign my command. I will scrape together suchmen of my division as will follow me, and----"
"And how many will that be, do you think?" jeered Graeme.
"And attack Uriel's position to-night, while _you_ are off home. Youmay call George Stanhope 'Old Guts,' if it pleases you, Sir Hector, butcoward you shall not, nor shall any other man."
A murmur of sympathy ran through the assembly--the speaker was known asone of the bravest men in the army.
"Roused you, have I?" roared Graeme; "want to fight now, do you? Verywell then, you shall, George, my boy; we all will. And now stopmuttering, all of you, and ... listen." Hector rose from the chair inwhich he had been lounging and stood erect, facing them; and, atsomething, something indefinable in the tone of the last word, a suddensilence fell. All eyes were fixed on the speaker, and as they lookedamazement grew, for over the shabby, grotesque figure before them astartling change had come. In some strange way he seemed to have grownbigger, and to fill the tent to the exclusion of all else; even thegigantic Fellowes appeared to have become a pigmy like the others. Gonetoo was the demeanour of the buffoon, and in its place there was visiblea dignity--almost a majesty--of bearing, unimpaired by the clown'strappings of top-hat and sheepskin coat.
In that instant, at the one simple word, all had changed, and in a flashthe truth of the stories that they had heard was revealed--stories ofthe strange power emanating from this man, of the ascendency of his mindover those of his followers, stories at which they had so often scoffed,but at which, having felt his power themselves, they scoffed no longer.
Nor did their mood change even when he ran to the black-board, anduncovering the picture, proceeded to explain it in the jargon of thestreets. The palpitating vibrating speech held them silent andthrilled, despite the words in which that speech was uttered.
"Yes, fight it is," he continued, "and, this time, win. I needn't tellyou that, you know it as well as I do now. Want to know how, do you?See there then," and with outstretched hand he pointed to the board, onwhich the following was depicted:
In the foreground lay a prostrate figure, looked down upon by another,huge of stature and with bearskin on head. Over the pair were scrawledthe words: "Uriel, deceased, 6 a.m., December 25th." Beyond him a thirdfigure was to be seen sinking to the ground, under the blows of a man ina top-hat. The falling figure was labelled "Gabriel," and the man inthe hat "Mad Jack." To the left was a tall thin man, with a long polein his hand, with which weapon he was pushing away another man twice hissize; the big man was labelled "Michael." Under the whole was written,
"One down, t'other come on. "H. G., R.A."
"That's how," continued the artist, "there's the whole blasted scheme ina square yard, better than fifty pages of Staff College clap-trap. Ha!there's one who don't seem to tumble," looking at Lord Fellowes, whoseface wore a look of deep perplexity, "never mind, Flamingo Head, yourthinking-box may be thick, but your heart's right enough, and that's allI want from you, for it's you, my lord, that's going to lead the bloodycotillion. Hullo! there's another woolly brain. I'll have to hammer itin, I see. Listen then.
"That fellow in the front is Uriel, as you see, old Uriel, sitting onhis hill yonder, rubbing his hands over what he gave us last night, andpraying for Michael and Gabriel to hurry up and catch us before we'reoff to the briny sea. But to-night, when he and his men are dreaming ofmedals and golden crosses--perhaps drawing lots for my Piccadillytile--old red-head there will be close by, waiting for the morning, andwhen the light breaks he creeps up, nearer, nearer; the bayonets flash,and then ... God help you, Uriel, and a merry Christmas to ye."
"Good," said Fellowes, a smile breaking over his face.
"And then up comes Mad Jack with the rest--Hearts of Oak, sailors,soldiers, the whole bloody rag, tag and bobtail--and hurrying on to thatridge beyond will wait there for Gabriel, poor old Gabriel, who's beenwearing his men out in his hurry to catch us before we're gone. Down hegoes too, with his hundred thousand with him. And away to the west,Michael will hear Gabriel's death-yowl, but won't be able to chip in,for there's a man there I know," and here Graeme looked directly at Roy,who nodded slightly in answer, "a cove with a long pole, who says to him'Keep off, Michael, old bird, leave Jack and Gabriel to fight it out;it's their bloody scrap, not yours.'"
He stopped abruptly, and then went on:
"I beat them in detail, you see, blokes, what the Austrians should havedone before Koeniggratz, and would have, had Hector G. been driving thecoach and not Benedek. Now, go back to your divisions and pull them andtheir arms out of the mud they're in. Your orders will be sent youlater, go. Fellowes and Roy stay behind; I want you both. You first,Fellowes; Roy, wait outside." All except Fellowes saluted, and wentsilently out.
"You said, Fellowes, you wanted another go at them. You shall have it;you'll attack at dawn to-morrow with three divisions, your own guards,the Highlanders, and Irish. Move off to-night and be at this point,"indicating a spot on the map, "at 3 a.m. to-morrow morning. You'll givethe orders to your command yourself. Off you go, Roy."
"Sir?"
"You'd like the pole job?"
"Yes."
"The other fellow's much bigger than you. He'll break your pole andkill you for certain, Roy."
"It's the luck of the game, sir."
"There'll be no luck for you--and no retreat either, mind that. Roy,it's a fight to a finish, and the finish will be only one way."
"What can you give me, sir?"
"Two divisions only. Your own, and any other you like, bar Fellowes'lot."
Roy thought for a moment.
"I'd like the Yorkshire men, sir, they're friends of my men."
"You shall have them. You'll start from here at eight to-night, movingby the west road. Shove on as hard as you can till you meet Michael.Then take up a position and fight him till you've not a man left. Underno circumstances is he to be allowed to interfere with me. Send backword now and again to let me know how it goes."
"That all, sir?"
"That's all, except to say good-bye. Perhaps meet you later in thebrimstone duck-pond." Roy went out with a light in his dark eyes,leaving Hector considering.
"Thank God for a lunatic," he muttered, "stroke of luck for me strikinghim. Now, what will I do to pass the time? Ah, I know. Godwin."
"You called, sir?" answered the long-nosed one, appearing.
"Which is the worst division, the
absolute bloodiest bloody?"
"The 15th, sir."
"I'm going round to call on them. You carry on; you know what you haveto do."
"I--I--if I might suggest, sir, I shouldn't. They're almost in openmutiny."
"That's how I like them." He picked up his gloves and hat, and walkedto the door, where he paused for a second. "Look out for cheering fromthe 15th division, Old Un," he said, and went out.
"Trumpeter, come with me; not you, orderly--only Sykes there. On for alark, William?"
"Yes, sir," from the trumpeter, a friend of many campaigns.
"Come on, then," and mounting his horse he rode away through the drivingrain, the trumpeter following at some distance. At length they reachedan open space, deep in slush, in which could be seen lying rusty riflesand accoutrements. These had been thrown down by their owners, who werenow in the surrounding tents, where they lay sleeping or cursing theirofficers.
In the centre of the square Graeme stopped.
"Fifteenth division this, ain't it, Sykes?" he asked the trumpeter.
"That's her, sir," answered the man. "Gawd! look at them guns."
"Tu-whoo, tu-whoo then, bust yourself."
"What's it to be, sir?"
"We'll start with reveille."
Without a word, Sykes raised his trumpet and blew, the first notesevoking a faint "booing" from the closed tents. This ceased, however, asthe call continued, and it dawned upon the hearers that it was thereveille sounding at three o'clock in the afternoon. Soon a few headswere thrust out to ascertain what the unusual departure portended.
"Again, William," and a second time the notes rang out. More headsappeared, followed by bodies, and then there was a general exodus fromthe tents. All faces were turned toward the quaint figure in the middleof the parade ground, and faint sounds of mirth arose.
"Laughing, that's something, anyway," muttered Graeme; "now the'Assembly' quick, Bill."
The man obeyed. The figures hesitated for a moment, a buzz ofconversation arose, and then a few came lounging forward. Theremainder, a lead having once been given, followed, till a sea of sullenupturned faces surrounded the pair.
"Men of the 15th division," said Graeme, regarding them. "I'm theCommander-in-chief. 'Mad Jack' they call me. Allow me to introducemyself." He took off his hat and bowed all round.
There was a puzzled silence, broken by a voice:
"Go to 'ell! We don't want no bloody Commander-in-Chiefs 'ere."
Graeme turned, and for a second sat looking at the speaker, a pale-facedCockney; then, pulling out his revolver, he forced his way to where theman was standing, and shot him through the head. After this, wheelinghis horse about, he faced each section of the crowd in turn, with thesmoking weapon brandished in his hand. Back surged the mob, growlingand calling on their leaders, but one was now gone and the others failedto appear.
"Dogs!" shouted Graeme, "hounds! Oh, snarl away if you like; it's allyou can do, and I'm not afraid of you, though I'm only one against yourthousands. Small wonder you got beat last night; they're soldiersyonder, but you, you're only jackals, noisy enough when there's nofighting, but slinking to your holes once a gun's fired. Hullo, you wantto speak, do you?" pressing forward again; "out with it then."
"Nuthin', sir, I ain't got no call to say nothink."
"Forgotten it, eh? Funny how one does sometimes. Anyone else got a callto say anything, what, no one? Then I have," and thereupon Hectorproceeded to let loose on the now silent crowd a torrent of blasphemousabuse, before which their own limited vocabularies sank ashamed. Forfull five minutes the flow poured on unchecked, nor was a single epithetrepeated, and gradually at such proficiency a faint feeling ofadmiration dawned in his hearers' hearts, and replaced their formerresentment. In this, at all events, he was their master, and, theirminds admitting it, they listened in silence, with growing interest ontheir faces.
Graeme, noting the change, thereupon abandoned the mere bludgeon work ofvituperation--for of sarcasm, knowing soldiers, not one word had heuttered--and then, discussing the matter in the light of cold commonsense, he asked them if they wished for death, death at the lance-pointand sabre, for such would assuredly be theirs in their present helplessstate. On a memory that never failed he drew now, giving them manyinstances of what flight with cavalry in pursuit meant, painting itshorrors in terms that caused a general feeling of uneasiness.
While he spoke, Graeme was closely watching them--waiting for the changeof mood when he could make the final effort. Till then he knew he mustrefrain from an appeal to the emotions, which proves irresistible whenthe ground is ready, but when made too soon only excites ridicule.
At last it came. A voice from the crowd said: "We aren't afraid of nogreen-coats, we're Englishmen," a speech that was followed by a murmurof applause. At the sound Graeme stopped, the thrill running throughhim that every orator knows when he feels that his audience is his.
For a moment his throat seemed to close, and his heart to swell in hisbreast; then off went his hat, and he stood bareheaded before them,holding up his hand in an appeal for silence. Shouts of "Order" arose,and then there was a hush. For a few seconds Hector sat motionless,gazing over their heads with eyes blurred with tears, and then, as iffire were running through his veins, he threw back his head and spoke.With a face pale with exaltation, with eyes alight and grey hairstreaming in the wind, he addressed them--his voice now sinking to awhisper, now rising to a shout.
"Men, soldiers of England," he concluded, "the eyes of those who loveyou are on you now. They are misty with tears for your wounds, men;they run over with water for the dead. But torn with grief though theyare, that grief is tempered with pride, for those they mourn have giventheir lives for the Flag. Will you change that pride into shame, men?Will you bring disgrace on your homes?"
Fustian, emotional fustian, of the lowest, but now was the time and herethe audience for fustian.
"No. No."
"We ain't no cowards."
"Take us there; we're ready for 'em, sir."
"I will. That's what I've come here to tell you, for fight you shall,and this time, men, it's not defeat, but ... victory. I promise ityou.... I----"
He got no further, for at the word a roar burst from the men, whosefaces were white with emotion, and caps were thrown in the air. Thenagain there was silence, for Hector's hand a second time was raised."Now, go back to your lines, pick up those arms lying there in themud"--a rush for the discarded weapons--"you'll want them soon enough.See, the rain has stopped and the sun is shining. Go and get ready."
The crowd melted away, leaving Graeme and the trumpeter alone, save fora rigid figure lying huddled in the mud, with a blue mark on itsforehead. With tired eyes Hector looked around him, for he was worn outand shaken with the strain of his emotions.
"Sykes, I'm done, tired out."
"Why not 'ave a sleep, sir?"
"Why not? You're right, I will. We must get rid of that, though,first," glancing down; "it's as poisonous dead as alive. Here you," hecalled to a passing sergeant, who instantly came running up at thesummons, and, smartly saluting, stood at attention before him, "takethat away, and bury it. Dig a hole anywhere and shove it in."
The man touched the corpse with his foot contemptuously. "Very good,sir," he answered, "I'll have him put in the refuse pit--best place for'im. Glad he's dead, sir; he was the cause of 'arf the trouble."
Graeme made no answer, but rode away, with a cynical look on his face,for he had seen the speaker amongst his late audience, as sullen-lookingand mutinous as any; but there was no purpose to be gained by alludingto that now. He passed on, through the lines of tents--alive with men,polishing, cleaning, now and again bursting into snatches of song--andmade his way back to his tent, where he found Glover awaiting him, witha face of contrition.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I didn't know you were going out, or I'dhave been ready. I tried to find you, but no one knew where you hadgone."
"I didn't want
you, Bobby," answered Graeme. "I shan't till tento-night. Be here then with the horses and one orderly. I don't wish acrowd."
"Your dinner, sir?"
"Bring a bottle when you come. I shan't want anything till then. I'mgoing to sleep." He turned into the tent, closed the flap, and lyingdown on the bed, covered himself with rugs and blankets. "Stara," hemurmured, "I want sleep; give it to me." He sighed, smiled happily, andthen almost instantly fell asleep.
* * * * *
Darkness fell, and confused sounds began to arise from the camp. Theysoon swelled to a clamour: words of command were heard; the clang ofrifle-butts; then the steady tramp of marching feet and the rumble ofpassing wheels. The army was starting on its way. The hours flew by,the beat of feet and rattle of wheels died to a dull murmur, and ceased.
The heap of rugs stirred and were cast aside. Graeme got up, unfastenedthe tent-flaps, and looked out.
The muffling canopy of storm-clouds was gone from overhead, leaving theblack vault a-glitter with a myriad points of flame. It was ChristmasEve and freezing hard.
Through the darkness a figure loomed dimly, its footsteps crushing therapidly hardening ground.
"That you, Glover?"
"No, sir, it's I--Godwin, may I come in? It's urgent." He lowered hisvoice as he spoke.
"Men refused to turn out?"
"No, sir, no trouble at all. It seems what you said to the 15thdivision has gone all over the camp, and----"
"Bah! What is it then?"
"Two cables, sir, one for you and one for Sir Thomas. You told me tobring any that came. You have the cipher, sir."
"Yes, hand them over and wait outside." He tore open the envelopes, andwith the aid of the cipher read the contents in turn, that addressed toMoleyns first. It bore no signature.
"Acted on your suggestion," it ran; "wire again if necessary."
"Oh, have you?" muttered Graeme, "and now for the suggestion." Heopened the second. It came from Whitehall, and was signed "Gribble."
"Commence retreat to coast at once; on no account assume offensive."
Graeme stared at the paper for a moment, and then laughed.
"I suppose," he said slowly, "there are some who might obey that. I ...won't."
He tore the cables into small pieces, and striking a match carefullyburnt the fragments.
"Godwin," he called, "old Gneisenau, come in."
"What is it, sir? Nothing serious, I hope?"
"Serious be hanged, nothing is serious in this life, haven't you foundthat out in your sixty years? It's all a big joke, Old Un, with someoneoverhead splitting his sides over it. We don't laugh sometimes, becausewe're fools; but we should, if we were wise. Ah, there's Bobby outsidewith the bottle. Come in, Bobby, and fill the glasses. It may be thelast we'll have together, and this time to-morrow we'll be laughing atthe moon as we pass. We'll have wings up there, Long Nose, bloody wings,and a harp apiece. God! I'll be a trial to the bandmaster, I'll neverget the damned thing in tune, give me a month of Sundays to do it. Pop!there she goes; fill up and drink. Here's the bloody toast:
"Damnation to our green friends yonder, and a rope to their best friend,Lawyer Quibble, Secretary of State for War. He'll have it too, when Iget back, I promise him.
"But that's treason, Bobby, or near it, anyway, so I'll change it to onewe can all drink.
"Here's to the one gentleman in the whole scurvy crowd--the King." Hepaused. Then with a loud cry of "The King! The King!" he drained hisglass, dashed it to the ground, and rushing out of the tent, he mountedhis waiting horse, and galloped away into the night.
*CHAPTER XXVI*
The shadow of death hovered over the sleeping armies. But a few milesapart they lay, thousand upon thousand, covering the frozen earth like apall--the one exultant with victory gained, and eager for the morning toreap their harvest, the other equally eager and equally confident. ButDeath, looking down, laughed, well pleased. What mattered to him thepaltry triumph of green or red. His feast he knew was assured.
The hours passed, the darkness deepened, and then rapidly began to fade,the splendour of the stars dulled. A figure--one of three Britishsoldiers lying apart from the rest--stirred in his sleep, and suddenlyawoke. He sat up, with a loud clanging in his ears, for thetelephone-bell at his feet had spoken sharply, and now it was ringingagain, a continuous vibrating sound.
The signal for the curtain's rising had come.
"That you, Sir Hector?" breathed a voice along the wires, that of LordFellowes, five miles ahead. "I'm going on, sir."
A quarter of an hour, half an hour, three-quarters of an hour passed,but still the silence remained unbroken, though the black was all greynow. Then suddenly Graeme sprang up, his body quivering and his eyesstaring ahead.
"Surely that was a shot? And, yes, another; heavy firing now and--andit is--it is cheering. They've done it," and Hector pounced on thesleeping Godwin and shook him awake.
"Bloody victory!" he shouted. "D'ye hear, Old Slugabed? Get up, blastyou, and rouse the army. Bring 'em on at a double after me, Hearts ofOak leading, don't forget that. Sound the 'rouse,' Trumpeter; Bobby,come on with me," and away flew Graeme to his horse, the high notes ofthe bugles now ringing through the dawn--their sound soon to be drownedin the swelling roar of the waking army.
"Forward, forward," he shouted, and was gone, swallowed up in the icymorning mist. His horse's hoofs rang on the iron-bound road, as hethundered on to the ridge ahead, whence a confused shouting was heard,punctuated with the dull thudding of shots and the scream of dyinghorses. On he rushed, the ridge rising darkly before him, and then hewas at its foot, and up and through the trees that clothed it, his horseshying at prone green figures and grim silent shapes of guns.
At length he reached the top and drew rein, looking down into a hugecauldron of mist beyond, where a mighty conflict was now raging--astrange phantasmagoria of overturned tents, riderless horses, andfleeing phantom shapes of men.
Truly, a merry Christmas for Uriel, lying still and silent, with abroken bayonet in his breast, and his erstwhile jubilant army ashrieking mob of fugitives.
In his dreams death had found him, for the pickets, believing only tooreadily his and their officers' words concerning British demoralisation,had abandoned the irksome duty of watching, and, soundly sleeping, had,like him, died where they lay. And over their dead bodies the Guardshad rushed, pouring into the sleeping camps, stabbing the half-nakedwretches as they sat up blinking at the bayonets, and, loudly laughing,chased such as fled, pouncing on them when they tripped and fell overthe tent-ropes.
Lead by Mike Curran in person, a band of Irishmen had headed straightfor the Headquarter marquee, and in a second the ropes were cut and themass of canvas billowing on the ground. Into this men were nowthrusting bayonets and officers emptying revolvers, till through thewhite canvas red patches began to show, which rapidly spread till theymerged into one great crimson pool, and the writhings and groaningsceased.
Through the artillery and cavalry lines the skirted Highlanders wererunning, some busy hamstringing the fast-tethered horses, whose screamsrang high and shrill above the uproar, others killing the haplessowners, as they ran confusedly to and fro searching for sword, lance, orcarbine with which to defend themselves.
Beyond, barring escape to the north, east, and west, the cavalrydivisions were leisurely sweeping across the plain, picking up, as theyrode, such as sought refuge by flight from the death behind.
As Graeme looked, a loud shout of joy burst from his lips. "Coney'sDrift again," he roared, "oh, where, where are my Hearts of Oak? Turnthem loose in this; give them a taste of blood, and they're made.They'll think it's all like this. Ah! here they are," as, panting andbreathless, a brigade of pale-faced volunteers came running up, gaspingwith haste and astonishment at what they saw. "Leu in! Leu in!" hecried; "have at 'em, boys, worry, worry!" and thereupon, with loud criesof delight, off rushed
the Hearts of Oak, tugging at their bayonets asthey ran. Graeme sat down and rocked with laughter.
"God, but it will be the death of me, this," he gasped. "Hullo, LongNose, you're here, are you? Good, I wouldn't have you miss this for theworld. Oh, look, man, look! See that tall chap there? He's proddedhis man three times, and ain't settled him yet.
"Holy God, what's _he_ up to, I wonder, he is--blow me tight--he _is_going through his man's pockets. That ain't cricket quite, my friend;but never mind, it will make his pals all the keener when they see thatwatch.
"Ha! here are the regulars coming up; they'll be on to it too in aminute. Damn, but the whole army will be all over the place if we don'twatch it. Hi, you blokes there," turning to a group of staff officerswho were now standing behind him, "three of you hurry off to Fellowes.Tell him when he's finished to get his men together--not before he'sfinished though, mind. Two more of you round up the Hearts of Oak; takecare they don't shoot you though; they're after loot, and fierce. Therest of you cut away to the other divisions and tell them to halt asthey come up. Godwin."
"Yes, sir."
"That's our position over there," pointing to a long line of woodedhills two miles ahead. "As soon as Fellowes has drawn off, bring thewhole lot on there and post them as I told you. Three divisions and sixbatteries to line its length, the reserve in the centre behind thatconical hill there. Tell the three divisions to dig themselves in atonce; they'll have a thin time if they don't.
"Move as quick as you can; it's close on eight, and Gabriel will bethereabouts by one. There's Fellowes' lot getting together now. I'mgoing on with the cavalry; join me when you've finished by that treethere. Come, Bobby," and Graeme galloped off, threading his way throughthe muddle of fallen tents and corpses, the Guards roaring a welcome ashe passed. When clear of the ruined camp he joined Maitland, thecavalry commander.
"What sport, Maitland?"
"A few, sir; nothing much."
"No prisoners, I hope."
"None, sir."
"Come on then," and the two rode off together, the cavalry following inline of brigade mass, the ground being open and going good.
The plain crossed, the force halted and dismounted, Graeme, Maitland,and the two A.D.C.'s ascending the ridge, from the top of which thecountry could be seen for miles ahead and around.
The line of hills--on the highest point of which they now stood--wasabout five miles in length, rocky in parts, and sparsely covered withtrees. Through the centre, close beside them, lay the road to thenorth, along which, fifteen miles distant, Gabriel was known to beadvancing; while far away to the left could be seen a double line oftrees, marking the course of the Western Road. In front of them spreada wide open plain, similar to that they had just traversed, but crossed,parallel to their front and some two thousand yards away, by a brook, orsmall river, with steep, overhanging banks. Towards this the groundfell gently, subsequently rising till it reached another ridge, fourmiles away, which was also crossed about its centre by the NorthernRoad. The passage over the brook was by a small wooden bridge.
To the right and left the country was open for miles; the left, however,being scantily covered with trees, which became thicker until theyformed a dense woodland, and somewhere in this Roy was now lying,waiting for Michael.
Graeme surveyed the scene through his glasses, and regarded for someminutes the ridge ahead, where a faint twinkle could now and again beseen.
"Enemy there," he muttered, "cavalry, a good many of them too. Have toturn them out of that, Maitland. Too close--see everything."
"I'll go now, sir," said Maitland, turning.
"And look here, when you've outed them, hold on to that ridge for a bit.No heavy losses, mind; your time for that's later. Just tickle upGabriel, matador him, make him mad to come on. Then join the reserve."
Maitland went, and soon from below the sound of movement arose from thewaiting cavalry. A word of command rang out, taken up by other voices;then followed a loud clatter and jingle as over the hill, close besideGraeme and Glover, passed a cavalry division, which, on reaching thelevel beneath, trotted briskly forward.
"Thud, thud, thud" came in instant greeting from the enemy's horseartillery on the ridge ahead, followed later by the stuttering of amaxim and then by a crackle of musketry.
The leading squadrons opened out fanwise, their front being nowwell-nigh a mile in breadth; from a trot they broke into a canter, theninto a gallop, as they resolutely pressed on, despite the storm beatingin their faces. Small dark heaps began to strew the ground; tinyfigures could be seen running and clutching at the trailing reins of thenow numerous loose horses, or holding sturdily on to thestirrup-leathers of more fortunate comrades.
The rattle swelled to a roar, for magazine fire, the last hope, hadopened; the clamour of the guns rose to one continuous rapid thudding,and then suddenly ceased. The thin, clear notes of bugles sounding thecharge were borne back on the breeze, followed by a faint echo ofcheering, and over the distant ridge surged the black tide of horsemen,their swords flashing and lance-points glittering as they rose and fell.
Graeme chuckled as he looked. "Ha, ha, Old Un," he said, turning toGodwin, who had ridden up some minutes before, "that's one up, ain't it,for the military expert? The term 'sabres' has lost its meaning, hasit, cavalry in the future must rely on rifles?[#] Poor old weak-kneedArmy Council! Thank the Lord, I never would have it, though theythreatened to break me if I didn't. What have you got to say, eh? Youwere one of the Whitehall lights at the time, you know."
[#] Referring to a work by one Colonel Caldwell, at the time of itswriting a garrison artillery man. This masterpiece, probably indeference to the British civilian public, who at that time developedviews on military matters, was for a while adopted as the text-book forofficers' promotion examinations in India till saner councils prevailed,when it, and not the sword and lance, were relegated to obscurity.During the short period of its existence, however, it was successful indoing an infinity of harm. This and a somewhat similar effort by SirArthur Conan Doyle exemplify the folly of writing on current events tillsufficient time has elapsed to allow of the mind being cleansed ofpurely personal impressions.
"It was a fine performance, sir, though a bit risky, don't you think?"
"That's what cavalry are for, my friend. Stop their taking risks andthey're useless. Army up yet?" he asked abruptly.
"They're nearly all here, sir. The three divisions and the batteriesare now digging themselves in. There are some of them, sir," pointingto a group of khaki-clad figures close by busy with picks and shovels.
"All we want now, then, is old Gabriel. Hope he will come on, and notwait for Michael. That would dish us rather."
"I don't think you need fear that, sir; the two, I happen to know, havelittle love for each other. It's jealousy, sir; they've been rivals foryears. Gabriel would sacrifice Michael, or Michael Gabriel, without thesmallest hesitation."
"Good heavens, man," said Graeme, turning furiously on him, "here'sinformation I'd have given a thousand pounds for, and you casuallymention it as if it were of no consequence whatever. How do you knowit, though?"
"I've relations in the country, sir, and they know both men. I'd havetold you if I'd thought it of consequence, sir."
"Of consequence? It's the whole blessed thing. It makes it acertainty, can't you see? Why, but for knowing it I might have shovedon to meet Gabriel--a risky job with my lot. Now I sit here and smokemy cigarette in peace. Hullo, hear that?" suddenly gripping Godwin bythe arm, and staring westward, whence a faint dull boom had sounded.
"It must be Roy, sir."
"Of course it's Roy, don't be an obvious fool. There it is again," as asecond dull boom was heard, followed by another, and then more, merginginto a low, intermittent muttering.
"It's begun now, Old Un--seconds out of the ring, first round, time.See there," pointing ahead, "Maitland's helio going; what does he say,you?" to the officer in charge of the Headquarter signalling s
tationclose by, whose own helio was now clicking violently in answer. The manspelt out the message, rapidly jotting it down as it came, and thenbrought it over to Graeme.
"To C.-in-C. (it ran) from O. C. Cavalry:
"Patrols report large column advancing North Road, about eight milesdistant. Artillery fire heard towards west."
"Eight miles only. Gad, but Gabriel's shoving on. Here, Bobby, give mea cigarette, and don't talk to me, either of you, till I've finished.You'll upset me for the day if you do." He lay back and luxuriouslyproceeded to fill his lungs with smoke, his eyes closing in greatcontent.
"Message for you, sir, just come in," and a staff officer stood beforehim holding out a missive.
"Eh, what?" answered Hector dreamily, and then burst out in sudden fury:"Go to hell, sir, take your damned letter away and yourself too. I'mhaving my first cigarette, blast you!"
Nonplussed, the officer stood staring, then, catching Godwin's warningeye, handed him the letter and turned on his heel, with a sneer on hisface.
"Good sort of Commander-in-Chief, that," he muttered, "can't read animportant despatch because he's smoking a cigarette. Thank God for oldGodwin and Fellowes, that's all I can say. Beakey must be a bloomingwonder; no one thought it of him before this, either," and thusreflecting he joined a group of his _confreres_, who were fidgetingabout in rear, anxious to do something, and to whom he proceeded toretail his reception by the Commander-in-Chief.
"Read it out, Old Un, I've finished," said Hector, regretfullydiscarding the last atom of the cigarette.
"It's from General Roy, sir, headed from Blay. He says, 'Taken up aposition here. Enemy three miles distant and coming on.'"
"Blay," repeated Graeme, "that's about twelve miles from here. They'vebeen at it now for close on an hour, and it's getting pretty hot,judging from that," looking as he spoke towards the west, where theintermittent cannonading had now become a steady, continuous rolling."Hullo, there's Maitland begun," as the sudden sharp rapping of a maximcame from the ridge ahead, mingled with a few scattered shots, and thenheavy firing. "Noisy lot of devils they all are--on Christmas Day too!Peace on earth and goodwill towards men. Lord, what a row. Ha! there'shis helio; look sharp with it. Well?"
"From O. C. Cavalry, to C.-in-C.:
"Enemy's advanced guard attacking me. Cavalry, infantry, and guns.Shall hold on for a bit, and then fall back."
"That firing to the west's getting louder, seems coming this way. God!it will be a near thing. Ah! there's Maitland coming back, about timetoo, I should say. Lord, what a stampede; and, by Jove, there are theenemy at last, up on the hill he's left, shooting after them. Shootaway and be hanged to you. Ha, ha, like that, do you?" as the sixbatteries in position on the ridge on which he was standing suddenlyroared out together, and the crest ahead grew blurred with a mist ofwhite smoke starred with tiny sparkles of flame.
"Keep it up, keep it up," he shouted, "long as you can; it's the lastchance you'll have, for outed you'll be soon enough once Gabriel gets onto you. That's part of the game, though; if I made you too strong youmight check Gabriel, and I don't want old Gabriel checked. I want himhere."
"They've cleared, sir," said Godwin, suddenly pointing to the hillahead, whence the figures had now disappeared. "No, there they areagain--guns, sir, the whole crest's bristling with them."
"Time for umbrellas then, Old Un," answered Graeme, rising andsauntering away to a rock hard by; "it's going to rain pretty hard, andthat rain will hurt if it hits. Come along, Bobby, what'll I do forcigarettes if you get outed?" and reaching the rock he flung himselfdown behind it, the other two crouching beside him.
Then with a sudden earthquake roar the storm burst, and the ridge seemedto tremble and rock. Over the sun a curtain seemed to fall; the greenlandscape vanished from before their eyes, hidden by a thick pall ofsulphurous smoke, torn with crimson flame and alive with flyingfragments of iron.
Crashing and shrieking, the huge shells thundered down on the quakingground, throwing up great fountains of earth and splintered stone,splitting the trees, and seaming the green hill with ragged brownwounds.
Faintly to be heard through the tumult, the sharp thudding of thedefenders' guns sounded in defiant answer, rapid and well-sustained atfirst, then intermittent, and at last sinking into silence. But stillthe tempest roared on, increasing in fury till blackness shrouded thevision and the brain was numb from the continuous crash and hammer ofiron on stone.
A cloud of black stinking smoke eddied round the rock, under the lee ofwhich the three were crouching, with handkerchiefs bound round theirmouths and eyes streaming with grimy tears.
Glover's face was white and scared; on Godwin's there was a look ofstudied calm; Graeme was staring out, his eyes vainly trying to piercethe murk before him. A touch on his foot from behind made him start andlook round to where a staff officer, who had just crawled up, washolding out a paper.
"Message from General Roy," he shouted.
"What? Speak louder, can't you? Oh, from Roy; give it here," andtaking the missive he tore it open and read:
"Heavily engaged. Forced to fall back to avoid being surrounded. Atleast six divisions against me. Enemy's losses very heavy."
"Don't mention yours, I notice. God damn it, if only this infernalsmoke would clear away and I could see what Gabriel's up to. Row seemsto be slackening a bit; must be his infantry coming on. Ah, at last, abreeze," as a sudden puff of wind moaned through the shattered trees,and then, growing stronger, tore away the muffling veil, and he couldsee.
A cry of delight broke from his lips at what he saw, for the plain infront was no longer empty, but covered with line upon line of green-cladinfantry, rapidly advancing. The leading ranks--being more or lessopened out--were already almost up to the brook, but behind them camedense masses of men, and beyond these, descending the hill, three hugecolumns, the whole surging forward like some rolling dark-green sea.
"Means to rush us, Godwin," said Hector, "walk right over us. You're atrump, Gabriel, old man."
"That firing to the west is coming nearer, sir."
"I know it is, so does Gabriel; that's what's bringing him on so fast,the jealous old dog."
Hector was right, for the sound of the hourly swelling roar of thewestern battle was rapidly goading Gabriel to frenzy. This victory washis--his, not Michael's. It was all but won now, for no longer did theBritish guns answer his, and though their infantry might make some showof resistance, still that could be but short-lived, for half of themwere volunteers, demoralised, moreover, as his information had told him,and not for a moment capable of withstanding such troops as his.
True, they had managed to destroy Uriel, but this, though possiblyunfortunate for Uriel, might nevertheless be viewed in the light of ablessing, for by his death the British had been encouraged to stand, andhad thus given themselves into his hands; also, Uriel was one of theMichael faction, and worthless, as were all that gang.
If only Michael too could be beaten--he was having a hard time out thereto the west, he knew--well, perhaps if fortune were kind, he would be,and the Emperor no longer be blinded to his own superior merits. Butthen a message had been received from that same Michael, telling not ofdefeat, but success, and his hopes of being in time to aid Gabriel inhis battle; at this, Gabriel had thrown all remnants of prudence to thewinds. Scorning reserves, he launched his whole force to the attack,shouting to his generals to rush their men on, and not to mind thelosses, assuring them that before them lay a beaten army, to crush whichthey had only to press on.
Gabriel having, despite the one fatal flaw in his nature, the soul of agreat leader, the spirit that possessed him was felt in the hearts ofhis followers, and forward they rushed, ignoring distance and interval,for these meant delay, and delay was not now to be thought of. Into thebrook's swollen waters plunged the leading lines, their weapons heldaloft as they struggled through the torrent, and then, shakingthemselves like dogs, they hurried on to the smoking ridge ahead.
&n
bsp; Fifteen hundred, one thousand yards only lay between, and with thelessening of the distance the thunder from behind slackened, and then,but for the tramp of feet, all was silent.
Then suddenly from among the trees a whistle blew, its shrill pipingechoed by others, and at the sound that battered shot-torn hill awoke tolife.
From crumbling trench and lead-splashed stones a line of thin browntubes rose up, wavered for a moment distractedly, and then together camedown, and row upon row of tiny, steel-ringed eyes peered inquiringly onthe green waves rolling towards them.
A second time the whistle was blown, which was again taken up to rightand left; and then the heavy silence was broken by the scream of corditeand the stammering voice of maxims.
The leading ranks of the enemy went down, some falling forward on theirfaces with a groan--this was death--others reeling sideways to theground, where they lay writhing and shrieking in the torture ofsplintered bone or bullet-ripped vitals.
Those checked in rear flung themselves down, their hands tugging atbuckled cartridge-belts, but in a second their officers were on them,kicking them up and driving them on with shouts and curses, and oncemore the lines surged slowly forward, men dropping in hundreds as theycame.
"Two messages from General Roy, sir," shouted a voice in Hector's ear;"they came within a few minutes of each other, sir." The speaker'svoice was strained and his face white.
Graeme opened them in turn. The first ran:
"Lost half my force and all guns. Enemy's losses enormous; shall holdon here till all is over. Done my best.--Roy."
Hector's face was unmoved as he read. He opened the second:
"General Roy dead. All lost.--Maddox, Captain."
"Just where you're out, my friend," muttered Hector; "it's all won now."
"What does he say, sir?" asked Godwin.
"Nothing much. He's done what I wanted. Michael's had his bellyful."
"Wh--what are those, sir?" came suddenly from Glover, staring towardsthe west. "They're wearing our uniform, but ... God!"
Together Graeme and Godwin looked towards the spot at which the boy waspointing, and saw far away to the left a scattered band emerging fromthe trees. A band of fugitives they were, seemingly, some thousand inall, without order or semblance of order. Over their heads shells werebursting, and clouds of dust were flying up around their feet; but,unheeding, they slowly toiled on, till at last they were hidden fromview behind the left of the ridge upon which the three stood watching.
"It--it's Roy's force," stammered Godwin, "all that's left of twentythousand men."
"Well, what of it?" snapped Graeme. "We knew that would happen, didn'twe? You old corncrake you, what's the good of crying over it? Can'tyou see he's won the battle for us. Look there, look at Michael's forceafter him; see what a mob they are, bad as the lot they're pursuing.Thank ye, Roy, the goose is cooked and now we'll eat it--for I'mhungry." His teeth bared in a grin. "Come on, and God help Gabrielnow."
* * * * *
The leading ranks of the enemy were now but a few hundred yardsdistant--ragged lines of weary, smoke-blackened men dragging painfullyonward. Behind them thick, green-clad masses, all pressing forward toassured triumph, on towards those grimy figures, now opening on themwith magazine.
On they came, cheering lustily, their ranks glittering with bayonet andwaving sword, but even as victory's laurel seemed within their grip thegod of battles averted his head, and Death sat grinning in their faces.
For the ridge in front was now echoing to the blast of bugles and theshrill tone of pipes, and at the summons the crouching khaki-cladfigures rose up together and stood looking calmly down upon them. Andas the green men halted, wondering what this might mean, with ashattering roar the hidden batteries of the reserve, silent so long,flamed into life, cleaving wide lanes in the crowd below, till theircheering ceased and died.
"Charge!" clanged the bugles again, and obeying, carrying the linesforward with them, the mass of the reserve came pouring over the hill,fresh and thirsty for battle--a solid phalanx bristling with sharp,gleaming bayonets.
For one moment, and for one only, the green men stood, wildly firing inthe face of the approaching host, who paid no heed, but with one loudpealing shout of triumph rushed on, a living wave of steel, and rolledlike a sea over the now terror-stricken masses. Away to the left,Michael and his men, toiling on in pursuit, heard the uproar, and asthey took in its meaning stopped and hesitated.
"March to the guns" is the soldiers' motto all the world over, and herewere guns thundering in their ears, comrades too in dire need ofassistance. But ... yet ... bad as was the case, their own was nearlyas desperate, for Roy and his men had done their work right well, and ofMichael's eighty thousand barely ten thousand had been scraped togetherfor pursuit.
While they stood debating, the cry of "Back!" arose from the rear:"Back! back! see the cavalry waiting for us," and straightway thegroups, glad at heart, turned, and that same night were trampinghurriedly away whence they came.... Gabriel was abandoned to his fate.And the hand of that fate was heavy on Gabriel this Christmas evening,as he stood looking down with desperate eyes on what, only one shorthour before, had been a jubilant army, but was now a shrieking,terrified herd of humanity.
Almost superhuman efforts had he and his staff made to turn the tide, toshow a front, even to form a rear-guard, but in vain. With his ownself-control had also gone his and his officers' hold over the army; byhis own orders had the reins of discipline been abandoned, and, striveas he and they might now, they had passed from his hands never to berecovered. Plainly he could see now, so very plainly, the simple trapinto which he had fallen; like some maddened bull in the arena he hadrushed at the red flag held out, and fallen on the sword behind, and ashe stood staring down on the welter below, a horror of despair came uponGabriel and the will to live died. He raised his hand, fired, and fell.
Far away, on the ridge opposite, his figure sharp-cut against the palegreen of the sky, the British leader stood watching, with madness in hiseyes also--but the madness of a great triumph, and not of despair. Forhere was glory at last--glory such as crowns the very few. But a fewshort hours, and English steeples would be rocking with the clash ofjoy-bells, and the voice of an empire would be shouting his name to theskies. The adoration of a multitude, the approval of a King--all, allwas his. Ah! to die now, now when glory's gold was untarnished, and thegreen of laurel fresh. "God kill me now, now," he breathed, and withthe prayer came the answer. A blinding flash overhead, the snap of abreaking harpstring, and Hector was down on the frozen ground, life'sbright crimson bubbling from his breast.
In a second an arm was thrust beneath him where he lay, with his headfallen back on a khaki-clad shoulder. Green eyes, horrified andappalled, looked down into the dimming violet of a dying man's.
"Old Un," he gasped, "that--that you? What's h--happened, Old Un?"
"Shrapnel, sir, burst right over you. I--I am afraid you're hurt, sir.Oh, fetch that doctor, damn you, damn you."
"Old Un, you're crying, blast you. There are tears running down thatlong nose of yours. You look damned absurd. What's the harm in dying?"
"No, no. Oh, will you hurry?"
"Shut up. I'll be gone before he comes. Put your bill closer, I--Iwant to say something; a bloody swan sings when he's dying, Old Un, andI--I can't shout. Where the devil are ye? I can't see you."
"Here, sir, close beside you," sobbed the other.
"The devil's got his own at last, Godwin. D'ye hear him chuckling, theold Satan? Ha! ha! Chuckle away, my friend; I'm not afraid; I'll twistyour tail yet, blast ye. Old Un."
"Yes, yes."
"I'll tell you something, Old Un, it's about the ghost. It was alldelusion, I know it now, death's laid the bloody phantom at last. Butcome closer--closer. There was one thing real--no delusion, old boy, Iloved something once--a child--my own, sh--she was blind. Will thatcount, d'ye think, where I'm going?"
> "Of course it will, sir. God----"
"Damn your preaching, I want her--not G--God. A--ah!" His voicesuddenly rose to a scream, and he sat up, stretching out his arms."She's there--and--and look, Old Un, she sees, she sees. Ruby! Ruby!"and Hector Graeme fell back dead.
Hector Graeme Page 25
