THE OBLONG TABLEKnights at Mess(Subject: Pooling of Parcels)
King Arthur(a three-parcel wallah with designs on Sir Saundontius the Good, a fourteen-parcel wallah): Gentlemen, I propose that in future all parcels are pooled in the mess. (Loud protests and uproar.)
Sir Samuel Longbow: No, I'm against that. Fancy dividing two tins of sardines amongst fourteen.
Sir Cliftus Smallkake: Well, I'll tell you this much, I shan't give mine up. One cake wouldn't feed two knights.
Sir Sulphurous Blears: Blank your blankety blank. I'm for pooling the blankety blanks, blank it.
Sir Edward le Fumeur: I've a chicken, that means a bone each.
Sir Pompous Oldass to Sir S. Blears: How many parcels have you received?
Sir Sulph. Blears: None, you blank-headed blankety blank.
Sir Leslie Bec de Canard: Very good idea. I've got flea powders and thirst quenchers. Pool 'em, with pleasure.
"KING ARTHUR'S KNIGHTS OF THE OBLONG TABLE" IN OUR MESS.THE HILLS OF KASTAMUNI IN THE DISTANCE!
MERMAID READING "SMOKE"
Sir Rufus Appletree:I've had no parcels. Even if I had I would have pooled them. (Laughter and exclamations.)
Sir Shinytop Stewartus(who sits next to King A. and knows that in any case Royalty appropriates): Hear, hear, let's pool them.
Sir Carol Cœur de Lion: I'm not afraid of speaking my mind. I'm against it, as I don't approve of socialism or cheap parcels.
Sir Saundontius the Good(fourteen-parcel wallah, and feeling under the circumstances that he had better go no further than timidly venturing to agree with the last speaker): I hardly think so, Sir King, Old Thing. One tin of jam would last me for a week, but the mess scarcely one minute. (Storm grows wilder, the only voices for the affirmative being those who up to date have received no parcels.)
King Arthur(much annoyed, and seeing a way of retreat, in a whisper to Sir Shinytop): Pass the word it's only a ramp against Saundontius. (The murmur grows to one of general accord and cry of "Pool 'em.")
Sir Saundontius(an excellent thought-reader, aside to Sir Sulph. Blears): Pass the word the ramp is only an excuse of King A. to get his point. Ramp or no ramp, the vote will count.
King Arthur(not a good thought-reader, and believing all well): Gentlemen, the vote! Who's for pooling them? (Votes for, six, including Sir Saundontius (who has counted); votes against, eight.)
(7)
PARCEL DAY(Accele-rato, con moto, mysterioso)
There's a murmur in the air—in the air—There are ninety parcels thereFull of jams, anchovies rareFor the prisoners de guerre—Bless their souls.Hark! I hear him read the list—read the list—Six for you—I do insist—One for me is rather triste—Though size counts too I wist—Bless our souls.At the room we breathless wait—breathless wait—You must not risk being late,It might change your parcel's fate,So on our boldness do not prate.Bless our souls.All is o'er, they have them fast—have them fast—There's some jam that will not last,Some tongue for a repast—Quenchers, shirts, and tea! avast!Blesstheirsouls.
(8)
LETTERS COME(Adagio)
Letters come. Letters go.Winter's gone. Gone the snow.Gone the footer and toboggan,Gone our erstwhile trick of hoggin,And the price prevents our groggin,Life is so.Rumours come. Rumours go.What's the truth?—we don't know.In Kastamuni our hearts are breakingAnd we fear the rude awakingWhen from her tracks we'll be making,Love is so.
(9) "Die Nacht"—an inversion of "Der Tag," a one-act play of 1914.
DIE NACHT(A New Version of "Der Tag," all about Billy Primus,June, 1917.)Scene I (and only).
(Large room used as smoker-library with tall windows overlooking the waters of Wandsee. The Kaiser in the uniform of the Death's Head Hussars, seated behind a table-desk. A shaded lamp throws the sharp silhouetteof his features upon the wall, leaving him mostly in shadow and the rest of the room in the light. He presses a bell. EntersZimmerman,Foreign Minister.)
(Large room used as smoker-library with tall windows overlooking the waters of Wandsee. The Kaiser in the uniform of the Death's Head Hussars, seated behind a table-desk. A shaded lamp throws the sharp silhouetteof his features upon the wall, leaving him mostly in shadow and the rest of the room in the light. He presses a bell. EntersZimmerman,Foreign Minister.)
Kaiser(motioning Z. to be seated): Before Talaat arrives let me know briefly how the matter stands.
Zim.: Turkey desires peace at once, but gives the last possible date as three months. An immediate loan of 10,000,000 liras on mutual security is demanded.
Kaiser: Is Enver in with this, or is it a feeler only?
Z.: I assure your Majesty, it requires urgent attention. The whole of Turkey is behind it, led by the few vested and private interests that remain. You remember my saying that as soon as the private interests are hit the Turks will murmur.
Kaiser: What hold have they on the public?
Z.: According to Talaat, and privately confirmed, the wealthy classes are heading the general dissatisfaction at the famine prices and daily loss of territory. It is an ultimatum.
Kaiser: What course do you propose for extending the three months?
Z.: I suggest the situation would concern the War Minister.
Kaiser(ringing,Hindenburgappears): The day, my general, is nearer than we thought. Turkey pulls out in three months. How will the map lie then?
H.: With Russia merely held, or, if necessary, by retiring to our system of railways and carrying on with smaller forces on our Eastern Front, we can intensify our shortened line in the West and hold it against all odds until the autumn. This is providing Holland remains neutral and the Turkish campaign is pushed.
Kaiser: What is your opinion of the news from Turkey?
H.: Palestine and Syria will go during the summer. Possibly Russia will get astride the Baghdad Railway from their Eastern push.
Kaiser: Our connection to Constantinople?
H.: We can keep open for three or four months, when the Western wastage will necessitate withdrawal of Mackensen's forces and further concentration. Say four months, providing Turkish wastages are replaced and she remains firm.
KaisertoZ.:To what extent can you trust Turkey for three months?
Z.: If the line is not cut she can be kept in by our military dispositions, so my reports say. The Turkish forces are kept in the out-field and German troops are fought nearer to the Capital. Their staff is still wholly German, and reports give no ground for uneasiness, except, of course, non-military riots. In which case comes in our "Remedy" among the Ultimate Provisions drawn up by your Majesty. We can seize and garrison Stamboul within twenty-four hours.
Kaiser(turning over papers): Hindenburg, is your opinion still unaltered about our last stand there? Remember, it is of the greatest consequence to the whole issue. For how long can we hold Stamboul?
H. (drawing himself up proudly): Your Majesty, our plans are perfect. On the dispositions made I will undertake to hold Constantinople behind the Tchataldja lines and a south trench for three years against the world.
Kaiser: There is nothing overlooked? (Rings, andBethman-Hollwegappears.)
H.: Nothing. With our shore batteries we could outrange any gun ashore or afloat, and as a submarine base it would be excellent. Ammunition and food would last that time.
Kaiser(dreamily): Three years. It would astonish posterity.
Beth.-Hollweg: Magnificent, my Emperor, but more than necessary.
Kaiser: You mean England would be sickened out long before then?
B.-H.: If the rest of the war-map could remain as it is, it wouldn't be worth her while to insist on unconditional terms. But gallery play in Stamboul is useless once our line gives in the West.
Kaiser(toHindenburg): If we sacrifice the Roumanian line and hold one across Austria instead, make a stand in Constantinople, and concentrate all our forces on the Western Front, how long can we go on for?
H.: To the autumn of 1918, when it will all collapse like a house of cards.
Kaiser(toB.-H.): The siege of Constantinople then would not be mere gallery play, Herr Chancellor?
"DIE NACHT," AN INVERSION OF "DER TAG,"WRITTEN JUNE, 1917,PROPHESYING THE DOOM OF GERMANY IN AUTUMN OF 1918.—"SMOKE"
AN ESCAPE STORY FROM "SMOKE."THE AIRSHIP ENTERING THE BLACK SEA
B.-H.:There is yet a more serious factor. We can crush or sacrifice Turkey in revolution, but before a revolution in Germany your Majesty's guns will melt like butter in the sun.
Kaiser: Have you not quietened the National Liberals by nominally conceding the constitutional point of veto, and in assembling and proroguing the Reichstag?
B.-H.: It's not that. Neither is it the Socialists or the Left Centre. It's the agrarian classes of the Out Provinces. They already imagine that disaster has overtaken their absorption by Prussia, and thought towards decentralization must not be trusted too far. As they had least to win so they have most to lose in a war of taxation and attrition. Moreover, they fear the aftermath of fearful reprisals if the enemy carries war into Germany.
Kaiser: But my army, surely it can maintain its supremacy?
B.-H.: We cannot spare troops to garrison railways, and once the seed is sown lines will be cut, communications interrupted, and the army—excepting the Prussians—which is sick of fighting, will dissolve. I speak, your Majesty, from a near view of facts. Three months may be short, but when Turkey goes the terms will be harder.
Kaiser: Turkey may go. Constantinople will not go. (Rings.)
B.-H.: The time to negotiate is now. We shall not succeed in sickening England out, and if we wait until we are right back before we ask peace, our enemies will push. (EnterVon Kapellar.)
Kaiser: Von Kapellar, First Sailor of the World, you are our present hope. You have three months within which to paralyse British shipping completely—there must not remain one ship afloat. Everything comes back to this.
Von K.: My Emperor, in that time I can dismember, but I cannot annihilate. Every submarine must consult opportunity. Their chief boats are convoyed. If necessary, the American and Japanese destroyer flotillas will be used against us. It would take a year before we got at her throat. Besides, she is building.
Kaiser: It must be done. It shall be. We are working against a time-table. With England cut off, and Turkey remaining in, Germany is consolidated. Von Tirpitz wasright, after all. It is our chief weapon of parley. You must smash every ship and redouble our submarine tactics ten times from to-night—from this minute. I see it all plainly and all will be well.
(Von Kapellarwithdraws.Kaisermotions to the Chancellor, who disappears through the door, to reappear immediately conductingTalaat Pasha.)
(Von Kapellarwithdraws.Kaisermotions to the Chancellor, who disappears through the door, to reappear immediately conductingTalaat Pasha.)
B.-H.: I present to your Majesty our friend and Embassy from Turkey—Talaat Pasha.
(TheKaiserrises to his full height, silent and immovable, for ten awful seconds. And during those ten seconds the heart ofTalaat,humped violently, as he beheld, at last, beyond the bowed heads of these grim men, the famous figure, strangely terrible, of the Great War Lord standing there dark and silent as Fate in the lamp shadow—the War Lord that had carpeted the earth with blood.Talaat,not being used to these things, bows low. TheKaiseradvances and takes him cordially by the two hands.)
(TheKaiserrises to his full height, silent and immovable, for ten awful seconds. And during those ten seconds the heart ofTalaat,humped violently, as he beheld, at last, beyond the bowed heads of these grim men, the famous figure, strangely terrible, of the Great War Lord standing there dark and silent as Fate in the lamp shadow—the War Lord that had carpeted the earth with blood.Talaat,not being used to these things, bows low. TheKaiseradvances and takes him cordially by the two hands.)
Kaiser: Welcome, faithful friend of the Fatherland in peace and war, and soon in victory. You see, I have just been reviewing my sinews of war. A magnificent piece of news has just arrived. We have smashed the Mistress of the Seas. It but remains to sweep away the fragments. (EnterVon Kapellar.) I will introduce to you Baron Von Kapellar, the hero of the hour.
(Introduces them toTalaat,and after a few moments' conversation they withdraw, andTalaatis left alone with theKaiser,who smokes.)
(Introduces them toTalaat,and after a few moments' conversation they withdraw, andTalaatis left alone with theKaiser,who smokes.)
Kaiser: Your arrival, my friend Talaat, has been the precursor of most wonderful news. I am happy to be able to tell the distinguished leader of our brave and faithful ally that the end of the war is a matter of a few weeks only. In four days we have sunk seventy-two large boats. There is a panic in England, and we have been touched about terms of peace.
Talaat: Oh, that is good. My mission was for ten millions now, and to say we can't stand the strain for more than three months.
Kaiser: The strain? My generals will see to that. We are at England's throat. You must press every ounce—herterms depend on these blows. We could have peace to-night, but the peace we want requires manœuvring for. You remain firm, do you not? (Talaatnods meekly.) Our submarines are supreme, and every day the position improves.
Talaat: There are riots in Constantinople.
Kaiser: I will arrange for sufficient policing of the place. Now do not misunderstand me. The case for Turkey is everything or nothing, and without Germany it will be nothing. You are to dine with the Chancellor and me to-night. Is there any question you would like to ask?
Talaat: What is your plan of retirement in the West?
Kaiser: To fall back to a line we can hold for years—to prove to our enemies that at the rate of their advance it will take them two years to get into Germany, which extra effort will not mean so much gain to them more than they have at present—but the expenditure of millions of lives and double their war debt. That being so, we win. And now (rising) it is my royal wish to distinguish this occasion by conferring on you a Grand Duchy of the Fatherland. I have one vacant. The revenues have accumulated since the war. We will speak further of this at dinner.
(TheKaiser,smiling atTalaat,shakes him by the hand. As the Chancellor reappears forTalaat,the latter, pale with excitement, bows himself out of the royal presence.)(TheKaiserfalls dejectedly into his chair and rings again.Professor Adam Lassoonenters—the arch-spy, Press gagger, and confidential friend.)
(TheKaiser,smiling atTalaat,shakes him by the hand. As the Chancellor reappears forTalaat,the latter, pale with excitement, bows himself out of the royal presence.)
(TheKaiserfalls dejectedly into his chair and rings again.Professor Adam Lassoonenters—the arch-spy, Press gagger, and confidential friend.)
Kaiser: Well, Adam. What news?
L.: There has been much public comment on the fact that the Reichstag has even made it possible to demand changes in the Constitution so openly. This has been dealt with. There is also a growing tendency towards isolation. Men sit in cafés and talk. The world is against us, and even the entrance of Hayti has a bad moral effect. They hear the hordes already thundering at our gates for vengeance. This also has been dealt with and articles prescribed for it.
Kaiser: Be extra vigilant about the provinces, and make a submarine boom.
(Lassoondisappears.)(Kaiser,now alone and smoking hard, walks to the window. He looks out on the lake in silence. The moonlightstreams in across the room. As he watches, a black sailing cloud obscures the moon, and theKaiser,turning down the lights, sinks back dreamily in his chair. The smoke from his cigar floats up in thick clouds as he rests his haggard face in one hand. He sleeps. Past the smothered light the mists grow thicker and in them suddenly appears a form, a spectre—it is theShade of Bismark.With fearful voice it speaks.)
(Lassoondisappears.)
(Kaiser,now alone and smoking hard, walks to the window. He looks out on the lake in silence. The moonlightstreams in across the room. As he watches, a black sailing cloud obscures the moon, and theKaiser,turning down the lights, sinks back dreamily in his chair. The smoke from his cigar floats up in thick clouds as he rests his haggard face in one hand. He sleeps. Past the smothered light the mists grow thicker and in them suddenly appears a form, a spectre—it is theShade of Bismark.With fearful voice it speaks.)
The Shade: It is true, Wilhelm. You have need for the pilot, nicht wahr? The glorious empire I gave is on the brink of an abyss. Colonies, commerce, shipping, armies, friends—all are gone. The isolation of England has ended in the isolation of Germany. The very cement with which I bound State by State to Prussia is crumbling to dust. Germany is sliding—soon she will be an avalanche charging to her doom. Even now there is barely time to avert the catastrophe. You dropped me. This is my revenge.
Kaiser(awakes with a start, and theShadeflees): What a fearful dream (quotes)—
"There is a tide in the affair of Nations,Which, taken at the flood, leads God knows where."
On such a full sea are we now afloat, and we must take the current when it serves or, like our submarines, go to the bottom. I'll ring for wine....
(Rings as the curtain falls.)
Written in June, 1917.
Photo from "Smoke""THE SONG OF THE RAIN"
BALLAD OF THE FALL OF KUT. ("SMOKE")THIS SKETCH AS ALL OTHERS WAS DONE BY LIEUT. GALLOWAY
(10) Ballad by a bombardier on night of Fall of Kut.
THE FALL OF KUTApril 29th, 1916
Crack me the last bottle of date-juiceAnd hand me some leaves of the lime—For to-day falls Kut-el-Amarah,And for us, God knows, it's time.We're only a siege-battered army,And most of us bones and skin;And we thought that our troubles were over;But we find they only begin.For five months the might of the TurkTried to take this tiny Kut.Now he says that we are devils—And we know that he can loot.We thrashed him at Shaiba and Kurna,At Amarah we bluffed him to flight,At Essin we grappled and threw him—How we swore when he left in the night!That gave us Kut-el-AmarahWhere runs in the Shat-el-Hai.'Tis the key to Mesopotamia,And surrounded by Arab canaille.We were now a conquering army,And we fought well and ate well and drank;And though he'd retreated to Baghdad,We followed for military swank.The march was a long one and thirsty,Still we thought of the Baghdad goal—Till the Turk barred our way at Ctesiphon,Thrice our force and entrenched like a mole.But Townshend saw it all swiftly—To him were all our wins due."I'll not fight without reinforcements—There's my communications, too."Now, it's a trick they have in the Army,To ask you "What's absurd?"So unsupported, Charlie T.He took them—at their word."It's a risk, and I'm not for it;But if fight it's got to be,We'll fight like the Sixth Division,"Quoth our General, Charlie T.We found his flank and joined battle,And held with a frontal attack.Stormed his first line—he vacated his second,Was reinforced, and we had to fall back.A third of our force on the field;But the Turk had suffered much more.We knew that the game was up,So retired with the honours of war.Then came the wild hordes of Islam,Hot-footed upon our track.They caught us at Um-al-Tabul,But in the open we flung them back.Mars surely was in his chariot,And smiled at Townshend then;And Charles made good to the God of War,And snatched from the grave dead men.We hurled him back and held him,And got our transport through—It was a glorious gunner's show—But that's 'twixt me and you.For forty hours we marched on,The nights were fearfully cold.Men hungered and fainting, and menThat slept as they walked, I'm told.But Townshend got us to Kut,And the remnants stumbled in.And Hunger and Death stared from our eyes,But we counted it all a win.We dug down deep and quickly—Next day they were all around,And our planes flew away to the southward.We were alone and battle bound.We fought them from the trenches—We came to blows in the Fort.We fought them and we fought the floods—And then the food ran short.Relief had been expectedIn two weeks, or four, at the most.So we starved, or we died by the hundred;But we stuck each man to his post.All this time the enemy, vengeful,That ringed us tightly round,Swept us with shell and rifle fireThat followed us underground.Our front line gazed into the blue,Where Formless Things rode by,And followed the wake of sound and heardThem burst in the old Serai.Or sometimes it was the Hospital,And sometimes anywhere,And later came planes that bombed us—'Twas only luck served you there.So the months went by, and we ate husks,Chupatties, and mule, and weeds.We'd Divisional Orders for breakfast,And ribs of the silent steeds.And still the Relief kept coming—The Staff nominated the day.Twenty times they fixed it for certain,And each time explained the delay.So we swallowed disappointments,Tommy only groused his share;But one sad day the floods came,And Destiny seemed unfair.The trenches filled with water,And the plain showed scarce a sod,And we slithered and waded, or murmured—"On top, for the love of God!"And many's the unfortunate devilFell to the sniper's shotThrough "chancing his arm" in the open;But the others heeded it not.Once again, on that waste of waters,I gaze from the gun-pit floor,Where Tanks and I kept vigilThrough each hour of the twenty-four.I see the maidan silveredWith waters in the dawn—Dark lines of distant parapets.Fresh earth against the morn,With files of khaki turbansMoving forward to relief—I see the busy shovel,Hear the cursings underneath.Farther still, beyond the sand-hills,The trenches of our foe,Seeming silent and deserted—But I know that they're belowIn lines on lines encirclingUs, north, south, east, and west—And if my glasses tell me true,They're reinforcing for the test.'Tis moonlight, and they're sleeping,The detachments of my guns—Here, just behind the limber,These best of England's sons.For the dug-outs are now flooded,Washed by this muddy sea—The gun-wheels half in water,The breech-blocks scarcely free.And parapets and sandbags,Our trenches fallen, too—There's room for ammunition,But not for me or you.Once more, from the mouth of my dug-out,I smoke the leaves of the lime—Sort the destinies of my shells,"Percussion" and also "time."There's a light in the telephone dug-out—I think I'll have a peep,For I'm half expecting a message—Maybe the Bombardier's asleep.Asleep! in the arms of Hunger;But I'll report him not,Though I "rounded" him well for his slackness,And returned to my watery lot.Past sheets of wintry moonlightI see the drooping palm,And the ribboned edge of the Tigris,Dreaming of Eden's calm.Hard by, in ghastly stillness,His four feet toward the moon,I see the corpse of a stricken horse,Death-knelled by the shrapnel-tune.A broken wagon there yonder—A topee adrift in the flood—Its owner was strafed in the trenches,There's the case of the shell in the mud.I hear the belated mule-cartsA-rumbling on to the FortUnder the cover of night—For so their provisions were brought.I hear the jackals' chorus,Athirst for expected prey,Where the Arab tribes lie sleeping,Patiently awaiting "the day."Enough! these things are over,The moon is on the wane,And the palm-fronds' festooned shadowsI ne'er shall see again.For Kut at last is fallen,And more men have to die—Our flag is down, and the CrescentWaves o'er the old Serai.God grant to us, now captives—Who at Death's gate boldly dareBoast we haven't succumbed to battle—Grant us this fervent prayer—That in our future cheerless,We yet shall know o'er KutOur avengers see the Union Jack—Tramp the Crescent underfoot.To that, then, drink from this date-juice,And fill up your pipe with the lime.We have fought till the Great Gong sounded—Till the Referee called out—"Time!"
Sparkling Moselle.
(11)
THE SILK GAUNTLETOr, How we Escaped from KastamuniBy "A Kuttite."
The Kastamuni Kuttites Klearout Kompany was immediately launched in accordance with the advertised prospectus inSmoke, and the plans proceeded apace. Silently and secretly the airship was constructed in the Rabbit Warrens of the Lower House under the supervision of Captains Tipton and Wells. The design, one of the simplest, consisted in the usual vast air-chambers, and underneath a reinforced carrier named the Raft guaranteed to contain two hundred men. Beneath that ran the main shaft—a street tube bought at long intervals in parts from the bazaar, and to it were fitted some beechwood propellers, a special patent by Parsnip, and made by Bamptarius and Munrati. As no engine was available, the motor power was derived from treadles arranged in pairs on either side of the main-screw shaft, and fitted thereto by bevelled cogs turning in teethed collars along the screw. In other words, twenty old bicycle pedals and cranks had been stuck on to bevelled cogged collars along the shaft, and when pedalled vigorously by twenty stalwart officers, it was calculated by the designers that a speed of at least thirty knots would be attained. A secret trial was out of the question, but so great was the faith of every one in the abilities of our members of the R.F.C. that parole was recalled in small batches so as not to occasion suspicion. Then one day an excited whisper spread from mouth to mouth. Although officers lounged about as usual, and even played footer, or smoked and read, the hearts of all beat high with hope, and in every eye was the old look one remembers on the evening of our intended debouch from Kut. The whisper was, "To-night's the night."
There was no moon—only a faint starlight that seemed to intensify the darkness. At 2 a.m. strange figures, some hatless, all bootless, and some in pyjamas, flitted swiftly andnoiselessly through the empty streets. The rendezvous was the large stone mosque in the grassy plot to the right flank beneath Mr. Smoke's window, which had been selected as the most suitable place for fitting the "Homeward Bound" together. At this rendezvous the committee had been working on it since midnight, and when the others arrived the "airship" rode proudly in the air tethered to the minaret by a cable. I am now writing on board, and the blue sea is far beneath us....
In order to picture our embarkation, cast your mind back to the sketch in a previous issue ofSmokeof a "Homeward Bound" model riding anchored to the minaret, and dark figures with monkey-like spasmodic movements crawling along a rope ladder to the airship. Stores and water were quickly got on board. There was a committee for everything, and nothing had been forgotten. The organization was wonderful. The bandsmen were privileged to bring their instruments. In fifteen minutes we were all aboard, and even with the extra weight she still strained upwards at the ropes.
The first fatigue took their places at the treadles, and the propellers whirred. Crack! A shot rang sharply through the night—another and another! It was the alarm being given to Kastamuni. In thirty seconds it had grown to a fusillade. Lights flashed here and there in the town, but the "Homeward Bound" was in darkness....
"Cast off," shouted our Commander Tipton, and as the ropes were cut the "ship" leaped to a height of 10,000 feet. "Ye gods!" "Heavens!" "What's happened?" were heard on all sides. What a leap at the heavens it was. We fell sprawling, clutching at anything, but the caution we had previously received saved us, and for the most part we held the guard-ropes. You see, we had expected something, but scarcely that. Yet the plans were perfect. The 10,000 feet had been calculated to a pound of gas. "It's all right," yelled out Tipton, no doubt accustomed to these stunts. The fatigue party had been jerked half off their seats and couldn't pedal as her bow tilted upwards. That was righted with the air valves, and in a few seconds she brought up at dead level. Then the fatigues started pedalling hard, and we waited—waited. A cheer burst out as the "Homeward Bound" slowly started forward, her pace increasing every second.Then, overcome with joy, the band seized their instruments and struck up an air. Away down in Kastamuni the people awakened out of their sleep by the alarm, heard a soft whirring high up in the sky, and then the strains of "Destiny Waltz" came floating down to their astonished ears. This changed to "Rule Britannia" and "God Save the King."
Bullets pished-pished past us, but as we got further away we lit up, and all they probably saw was a light or two in the sky, moving like stars towards the hills.
We now proceeded to make ourselves comfortable on the raft. We rigged up sleeping corners, a reading corner, a band corner, and storeroom—although many stores were suspended from the airship by dangling ropes. Not the least feature about the appointments was the coffee-shop and bar, presided over by Sir Bedevere le Geant, King Arthur's henchman and mastik drawer. The Oblong Table as the chief promoters, with Mr. Smoke, of the scheme, rigged up an oblong table of sorts, and kept up the old order of things, King Arthur being in great form. Sir Shinytop regaled us all with humorous lamentations for his lost love in Kastamuni. The consumption ofmastikwas limited to ten per man per night. Oh, the sensation of those first starry hours of freedom, the exquisite sensation of easy movement (it wasn't my fatigue) on a glorious early summer's night, the thrill of joy after months of confinements, the speeding on towards liberty! If you have been a prisoner of war you will know the meaning of this. It was exactly the reverse sensation to that we had on going upstream as captives after Kut. So we drank, drank, drank mastik after mastik and thanked the gods.
But I must hasten to repair an omission and say something about the "Homeward Bound." Tipton was commander and aeronaut wallah, assisted by Lieut. Nicholson, R.N., navigating officer. Captain Wells "repairs," and Sir Lancelot le Fumeur as international lawyer in case of complications, Lieut. Wulley, M.A. (Maiden Aunt), as Intelligence Officer, had a little crow's-nest on top to which he pluckily scrambled by a ladder. In an ingenious manner he had drawn maps all around him on the silk cover of the ship. Major Syer had Supply, and Captain Reyne did Sergeant-Major of Fatigues, as he got morework out of the boys who went on in two-hour spells. The "Admiral," our pilot, had much time to spare, and started a book with Fludd and Hunger on the various risks uncovered, also betting on where we should land and when. The tiny bridge was forward in the bows, with a glass window that looked out ahead. Some of the orderlies were on the after-part of the raft and others on a trailer just below. Away astern, and towed by a long tow-rope, was the dinghy, a contrivance of King Arthur's by which punishments were inflicted, the boat being hauled alongside, and after the delinquent being placed therein, let out astern. The first offender was Sir Pompous forlèse majesté, and as he drifted past he yelled—quelle politesse!Sir Sulphurous followed for "language," and Brabby for promoting a fight between two small gamecocks he had smuggled on board, thus drawing a crowd and tilting the "airship" at a dangerous angle. Hummerbug came next for regretting the kaimakam was not with him. Most mysterious of all was a buoyant canoe called the cradle, also in tow, that floated high over the "Homeward Bound." Great secrecy was maintained about this, but rumour had it that Sir Lancelot le Fumeur and Sir Carol le Filbert had worked this project for exploiting a new model in the London music halls—in other words, that Sonia the Fair Girl was in the cradle. In support of this theory it may be mentioned that during the first night of the voyage each of these knights was missing for a time, and could nowhere be found. We averaged about twenty knots and soon passed over the dark passage 7000 feet below us that stood for the ranges we had so long beheld as the horizon of our imprisonment. Less than three hours after leaving, as the dawn was breaking, we saw far beneath us a silver feathery line.
"Gentlemen," said our genial commander, "Turkey is behind you—behold the sea." A small wiry figure came scrambling down the observation ladder in breathless excitement. "It is the Black Sea," he said, and every one laughed, and Le Fumeur, who sat writing in the corner, swore he would shove that intoSmokeif he was hung for it. By the way, he promised us a last edition ofSmoke en voyage. It appeared yesterday, but all in good time. We kept on this course for an hour, and the mist prevented us seeing any shipping. In the distance we had seen a few white dots—possibly Sinope.
"Head wind springing up. Storm ahead, sir," reported the pilot to the commander. "Clap on pace," yelled old Tipton. "Stick her at it, half-hour fatigues, band strike up, emergency guard-ropes out, lash everything quick."
The wildest scrimmage took place. Sleepers were trodden on, mastik bottles upset, and people sent sprawling as the "first twenty," all fit as fleas, sprang to take a relief. How those fellows pedalled. The propellers screamed a higher note, and for a moment we swept along; but a second later, as the tide of wind caught us, our pace slackened more and more until we remained almost stationary. The wind whistled through us, and the canvas screens on the raft reported like cannon shots. Every one had hold of something, except the band, who were in a sheltered corner. We played ragtime and poppies to some purpose, but when we struck up the "Marche aux Flambeaux" a miraculous thing happened. Scarcely had we done ten bars when we bounded ahead as if we had cut a tow-rope holding us back. We did ten knots in the teeth of the gale. The fatigue pedalled six revolutions of a leg to every note of the Marche, and The Crochet set the pace. The whole ship cheered, and a solitary shout came from far behind. This was from dear old Pompous in the dinghy, whom every one had forgotten. We beheld the latter being twirled round and round like a spinner, but now that we moved its occupant shouted with glee to find himself on an even keel. This kept on for two hours, and as man after man gave out or got cramp another replaced him at the pedals. "Storm approaching, portbow," yelled the pilot. "Emergency holds every man. Prepare to mount," our commander yelled in a cavalry voice. The band instruments were secured. We held tight. A lull had succeeded the heavy wind, and somehow the sea was much nearer.
"More speed, more speed, keep her head to it," was the order.
Suddenly, without a second's warning, an avalanche of wind swept down on us, and the shock of impact seemed to hurl us a mile back. "Stick it, boys," yelled Captain Reyne. "Splendid, splendid. Try a bit more, kick it in."
Stuff got swept overboard. We held like grim death. The ship plunged and reared like a mad horse as we were hurled from side to side, and the deck took every imaginableangle. But Nicholson somehow managed to keep her nose to it. Something snapped, and there was a wild beating and creaking. The next moment the repair party, headed by Captain Wells, all on life-lines, got to work, and one or two who fell off were fished back. Then the propeller went, and a violent controversy was waged between Parsnip and Bamptarius on the matter. But a new one was fitted by Bamptarius with extraordinary skill and daring. It was just in time. The ship was bearing round, and once beam on she would have gone smash. I remember looking astern the while and seeing the dinghy playing high jinks and whizzing like a ball. Then came the hail and lightning that played over the steel ribs in an awful fashion. Something else gave on top, and there was a wild fluttering of canvas.
"Hold tight," yelled Tipton. It happened the second time, and this time much worse.
A man astride of a bullet couldn't have gone up faster than we did. Something to do with exploding a gas charge—a secret stunt of Tipton's own. We found ourselves gliding along smoothly and evenly with incredible swiftness, possibly doing eighty knots. The relief from the storm-tossing to the thrill of racing smoothly was wonderful. Have you ever while yachting beaten up in the teeth of a heavy gale round a headland and had the sea sweeping over you and the boat dancing and leaping like a mad thing, and then suddenly found yourself gliding down a smooth channel with the wind behind you? Then you will know what this was.
"Why on earth did not you do it before?" we all demanded.
Tipton laughed. "To lend colour to our enterprise, of course, and then we have now left one emergency charge only."
Our first thought was to have the dinghy alongside and rescue Sir Pompous. We found him very white. "Thank God you are alive," we said.
"Seems so!" he answered sarcastically, a favourite phrase of his.
"Fearful time, wasn't it?"
"No. I liked it, of course."
With that King Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and poured half a bottle of mastik down his throat and shirt. Sir Lancelot gingerly climbed along the ladder with a reviver for Lieutenant Wully, expecting to see that officer in a faint,instead of which he was quite cheery with an empty bottle of mastik protruding from his pocket.
"How the devil did you stick on?"
"Stick on? Oh, eashy!"
"What's this?" asked Le Fumeur, producing the empty mastik bottle from the pocket of our Intelligence Officer.
"Ohsh, thaths noshing. Nerve resthorah. Keep oush cold, verish draftish ere. Donst shay anyshing to boysh. Don't wansh go dingsh."
Sir Lancelot helped him down, and he slept.
The wind fell and the sun came out. The ship was put to rights and, scarcely knowing where we were, we headed due north. It seemed about midday. We had a full ration and dosed away in a pleasant sunshine to the steady creaking of some stay or rippling flutter of some loose ribbon in the air-chambers above. We smoked and dreamed of home. A little later our Intelligence Officer, now at his post again, assured us he could tell from the birds beneath us that we were near land.
"What land?" we all asked.
"I'll tell you at tea-time," he said. At tea-time he reappeared. "Through a break in the mists below us I'm sure I saw a town," he said, "white dots on green."
"Possibly sheep," said one.
"Or sea birds on a green sea," ventured another.
"Rot," replied he. "It is not green; why, it is the Black Sea."
Two hours later, as the twilight fell around us, we saw, as in a flash through a rent veil, the twinkling of a myriad lights. Some one suggested fire-flies. "A mirage," said an orderly from the stern raft.
Without doubt it was a town. Great excitement prevailed.
Our navigating officer believed it to be Odessa.
"I believe it's Constanty," declared Wully, and as the lights grew nearer he became more insistent. "The sea is beyond and around the lights, it must be Constanty." And half an hour later, "I tell you I can see mosques and minarets; besides, I know Constanty. I am absolutely——"
Boom! A dull billowy wave of sound reached us.
"That proves it," he said; "we are being fired at."
On this a council was held, and it was decided to steer due N.W. We ran before a strong southerly wind that until now had been on our port beam. We did about sixty knots, and by fifty hoped to have reached Russian territory. But to be quite sure we kept on until midnight, when we descended to what we considered was 5000 feet. Suddenly a cry from the pilot brought every one to his feet. There, not a 1000 feet below us—a mere 300 yards—were the white-crested, creeping waves towards which we were rushing.... "Hold on." Boom! Swish! Our second barrel of gas was exploded and we rushed up and up. But once there the "Homeward Bound" began to sink again.
"Pedal, pedal, or we are lost," shouted Tipton. And theydidpedal. But we still sank slowly....
"Lighten ship," he roared, as the repair party tackled a huge rent in the side of the bag. Things were slung overboard wholesale and the dinghy cut adrift. The ship then steadied and gently rose, but not before a large volume of theMastikwas hurled overboard by Blind Hookey.
"My poems, my precious poems," shouted Mr. Belton, as he leaped to save them. He slipped, beat the air, and had not Mr.Smokeseized him by the coat tails and twirled himself around a stanchion he had followedMastikinto the abyss of mist and cold grey sea. The gas generator was set going and we gradually rose to 10,000 feet once more.
"Gentlemen," said our commander coolly, "we have been under way twenty-four hours, and I beg to report we are lost at sea."
Lost, lost, lost, the words echoed. A ringing cheer was our only answer.
(12) FROM MY BEDROOM WINDOW
Spring has come. The tree I told you of is thick with leaves. And so when as now the evening wind blows, a changed music falls on my ear. Instead of the soft swish of branches is the lisp of the young leaves, stirring in delight as they listen to the story about the winter dreams of the old tree. Birds are back once more, Old Jim Crow, the jackdawsthat awoke me early last summer, and a little fellow like a wagtail who in his own fashion is accompanying the lyrics of a thrush in the mosque garden close by. One and all they have the look of adventurers thick upon them. "Happy to meet, Sorry to part, Happy to meet again," is the leit-motif of their song. Perhaps like birds we shall ourselves soon return to English woods.
A great window is this of mine with its view from the garden across the town to the distant hills. Now, to appreciate a view fully, it is imperative that you shall have spent just previously some considerable time in trenches and dug-outs and gun-pits. No, it is not a view either, but rather a stage. In the background is the drop-scene of mountainous hills, dotted with villages and scored with paths and gullies. It is a scene shadowed with forests and sprayed by the advancing sunlight, or sometimes by this light misty rain. Other drop-scenes are the mists that advance or retreat with the rain, and sometimes a thunder blanket shuts off the stage just outside the town. For the curtain there is the mantle of night—when there is no moon.
An extraordinary stage. Let us look at it more closely. I can promise you no set drama, but great entertainment if you are the sort of fellow to enjoy sitting on a bit of a hill above a winding river in the country—with a pipe and some field-glasses wherewith to watch the affairs of the world around you. No man-made drama, no plot, no prompter, and not a cue. The players stray on to and off the stage, and suggestion can do lots.
In the fowlyard below two cocks have renewed their battle for the right to crow last. "Seems so," says Sir Pompous beneath my window, as he watches them intently. The youngest pullet, coy and not uncoquettish, withdraws from the scene of combat to arrange her feathers in the far corner. She, in any case, will have to abide by the decision of the contest.
Cynically the old hens condescend to a dull interest only, contrasting this sorry affair with the strenuous and gory combats that waged overthemintheirday, when their hearts, too, were young. Love's young dream long since awakened to matter of factness and steady routine. But for an example of love still dreaming observe the cocks themselves—theyounger lamenting his lack of experience, but game; the elder no doubt regretting that his Virgil is not at hand to adorn further Georgics with the account of his strenuous endeavours—to point anew that old moral in the Battle of the Bulls.
A mate has joined the chirruping wagtail with many a ship and twist of her small head. The cock-bird, prepared to earn his amours, indulges in risky flights round the twigs and back again, landing suddenly beside her with a little joyful chirp. "In the spring a brighter crimson comes upon the robin's breast—in the spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest."
"The call of Spring," as Pacific Roller says in another column, "announcing that the season of love is at hand and inviting youth to put on his gayest apparel."
There has just appeared in the foreground of our stage the wee bear Alphonse, delightful little fellow except when he makes that awful noise—and why shouldn't he? 'Tis time, he thinks, that he was on the warpath alongside his dam, for it grows dark and the call of the wild rings out for him in clarion notes, challenging him to fulfil his destiny. Manfully the little fellow is trying to do so, roaring lustily and making commendable attempts to stand on his hind legs and reach a bough. As he thrusts his way through somedébrisI can see his woodcraft is coming on apace.
The first drops of rain are falling, and as they swish on to him his wee heart, I've no doubt, throbs restlessly for freedom once again. Freedom. Poor little lad, I sympathize with him. Different from the cocks or the wagtail he, if he could speak, would agree with me on this point at least. But one thing he doesn't know, and that is the future, nor how close the hand of Fate is to him even now. For it is as good as decided to poison him for being in disposition incompatible with all of us—to wit, that he is a bear and roars. As a matter of fact, five grains of strychnine were given to him last night and he survived.
And what could augur better for the normality of the Knights of the Oblong Table than to say that some cheered and all felt glad when, to-day, we saw Alphonse still going strong, apparently overdosed. The iron of Kastamuni, that rumour says has entered into more than one soul (and rusted, too, withal in others), cannot have bitten so very deep intoKing Arthur's Knights. And Alphonse the bear, innocent of our design or of the attitude of Destiny, stands on his hind legs like a wee man and chuckles. Is all this drama a tragedy, or comedy, or what?
Please note there has been a duel over anaffaire de cœur, a love episode, a captive, with a great Fate of uncertain mood flinging a dark shadow at the end....
Past the column of grey smoke thickly climbing through the raining mist, a black speck moves down a white path. It is a labourer returning from his fields beyond the town. To the west is the smothered glow of the setting sun. In the central background of the stage above the high lights, observe a wee, grey coil of smoke twisting upwards from the shining speck in the gully. I know the hut well, although never has it appeared larger than the tiniest button. There is a romance of an old man and woman, a son at the war, and a pretty girl within, if you look closely!! Behind the house a long track winds uphill to the pass. But the last light has left the hills and I see only the dark patches of forest. Look carefully, and, if I mistake not, you will see an advancing pair of darkly burning orbs. They are the eyes of another Alphonse, luckier, let us believe, on the warpath, traversing his domains, the dusky fastnesses of the wild glens....
The sun has set and the rain falls more thickly on the hills. Through the gossamer of moving mist fond fancies steal to me. And so the last scene before this slowly falling curtain sings of the Past.
What play does not? It is the song of the rain. Would you like to hear it?...