— Bengal Army Regulations.
They made Bobby Wick pass an examination at Sandhurst. He was a gentleman before he was gazetted, so, when the Empress announced that ‘Gentleman–Cadet Robert Hanna Wick’ was posted as Second Lieutenant3 to the Tyneside Tail Twisters at Krab Bokhar, he became an officer and a gentleman, which is an enviable thing; and there was joy in the house of Wick where Mamma Wick and all the little Wicks fell upon their knees and offered incense4 to Bobby by virtue5 of his achievements.
Papa Wick had been a Commissioner6 in his day, holding authority over three millions of men in the Chota–Buldana Division, building great works for the good of the land, and doing his best to make two blades of grass grow where there was but one before. Of course, nobody knew anything about this in the little English village where he was just ‘old Mr. Wick,’ and had forgotten that he was a Companion of the Order of the Star of India.
He patted Bobby on the shoulder and said: ‘Well done, my boy!’
There followed, while the uniform was being prepared, an interval7 of pure delight, during which Bobby took brevet-rank as a ‘man’ at the women-swamped tennis-parties and tea-fights of the village, and, I daresay, had his joining-time been extended, would have fallen in love with several girls at once. Little country villages at Home are very full of nice girls, because all the young men come out to India to make their fortunes.
‘India,’ said Papa Wick, ‘is the place. I’ve had thirty years of it and, begad, I’d like to go back again. When you join the Tail Twisters you’ll be among friends, if every one hasn’t forgotten Wick of Chota–Buldana, and a lot of people will be kind to you for our sakes. The mother will tell you more about outfit9 than I can; but remember this. Stick to your Regiment10, Bobby stick to your Regiment. You’ll see men all round you going into the Staff Corps11, and doing every possible sort of duty but regimental, and you may be tempted12 to follow suit. Now so long as you keep within your allowance, and I haven’t stinted13 you there, stick to the Line, the whole Line, and nothing but the Line. Be careful how you back another young fool’s bill, and if you fall in love with a woman twenty years older than yourself, don’t tell me about it, that’s all.’
With these counsels, and many others equally valuable, did Papa Wick fortify14 Bobby ere that last awful night at Portsmouth when the Officers’ Quarters held more inmates15 than were provided for by the Regulations, and the liberty-men of the ships fell foul16 of the drafts for India, and the battle raged from the Dockyard Gates even to the slums of Longport, while the drabs of Fratton came down and scratched the faces of the Queen’s Officers.
Bobby Wick, with an ugly bruise18 on his freckled19 nose, a sick and shaky detachment to manuvre in ship, and the comfort of fifty scornful females to attend to, had no time to feel home-sick till the Malabar reached mid-Channel, when he doubled his emotions with a little guard-visiting and a great many other matters.
The Tail Twisters were a most particular Regiment. Those who knew them least said that they were eaten up with ‘side.’ But their reserve and their internal arrangements generally were merely protective diplomacy21. Some five years before, the Colonel commanding had looked into the fourteen fearless eyes of seven plump and juicy subalterns who had all applied22 to enter the Staff Corps, and had asked them why the three stars should he, a colonel of the Line, command a dashed nursery for double-dashed bottle-suckers who put on condemned23 tin spurs and rode qualified24 mokes at the hiatused heads of forsaken25 Black Regiments26. He was a rude man and a terrible. Wherefore the remnant took measures [with the half-butt27 as an engine of public opinion] till the rumour28 went abroad that young men who used the Tail Twisters as a crutch29 to the Staff Corps had many and varied30 trials to endure. However, a regiment had just as much right to its own secrets as a woman.
When Bobby came up from Deolali and took his’ place among the Tail Twisters, it was gently but firmly borne in upon him that the Regiment was his father and his mother and his indissolubly wedded31 wife, and that there was no crime under the canopy32 of heaven blacker than that of bringing shame on the Regiment, which was the best-shooting, best-drilled, best-set-up, bravest, most illustrious, and in all respects most desirable Regiment within the compass of the Seven Seas. He was taught the legends of the Mess Plate, from the great grinning Golden Gods that had come out of the Summer Palace in Pekin to the silver-mounted markhor-horn snuff-mull presented by the last C.O. [he who spake to the seven subalterns]. And every one of those legends told him of battles fought at long odds33, without fear as without support; of hospitality catholic as an Arab’s; of friendships deep as the sea and steady as the fighting-line; of honour won by hard roads for honour’s sake; and of instant and unquestioning devotion to the Regiment the Regiment that claims the lives of all and lives for ever.
More than once, too, he came officially into contact with the Regimental colours, which looked like the lining34 of a bricklayer’s hat on the end of a chewed stick. Bobby did not kneel and worship them, because British subalterns are not constructed in that manner. Indeed, he condemned them for their weight at the very moment that they were filling with awe35 and other more noble sentiments.
But best of all was the occasion when he moved with the Tail Twisters in review order at the breaking of a November day. Allowing for duty-men and sick, the Regiment was one thousand and eighty strong, and Bobby belonged to them; for was he not a Subaltern of the Line the whole Line, and nothing but the Line as the tramp of two thousand one hundred and sixty sturdy ammunition36 boots attested37? He would not have changed places with Deighton of the Horse Battery, whirling by in a pillar of cloud to a chorus of ‘Strong right! Strong left!’ or Hogan–Yale of the White Hussars, leading his squadron for all it was worth, with the price of horseshoes thrown in; or ‘Tick’ Boileau, trying to live up to his fierce blue and gold turban while the wasps38 of the Bengal Cavalry39 stretched to a gallop40 in the wake of the long, lollopping Walers of the White Hussars.
They fought through the clear cool day, and Bobby felt a little thrill run down his spine41 when he heard the tinkle-tinkle-tinkle of the empty cartridge-cases hopping42 from the breech-blocks after the roar of the volleys; for he knew that he should live to hear that sound in action. The review ended in a glorious chase across the plain batteries thundering after cavalry to the huge disgust of the White Hussars, and the Tyneside Tail Twisters hunting a Sikh Regiment, till the lean lathy Singhs panted with exhaustion43. Bobby was dusty and dripping long before noon, but his enthusiasm was merely focused not diminished.
He returned to sit at the feet of Revere44, his ‘skipper,’ that is to say, the Captain of his Company, and to be instructed in the dark art and mystery of managing men, which is a very large part of the Profession of Arms.
‘If you haven’t a taste that way,’ said Revere between his puffs45 of his cheroot, ‘you’ll never be able to get the hang of it, but remember, Bobby, ‘t isn’t the best drill, though drill is nearly everything, that hauls a Regiment through Hell and out on the other side. It’s the man who knows how to handle men goat-men, swine-men, dog-men, and so on.’
‘Dormer, for instance,’ said Bobby, ‘I think he comes under the head of fool-men. He mopes like a sick owl46.’
‘That’s where you make your mistake, my son. Dormer isn’t a fool yet, but he’s a dashed dirty soldier, and his room corporal makes fun of his socks before kit47-inspection. Dormer, being two-thirds pure brute48, goes into a corner and growls49.’
‘How do you know?’ said Bobby admiringly.
‘Because a Company commander has to know these things because, if he does not know, he may have crime ay, murder brewing50 under his very nose and yet not see that it’s there. Dormer is being badgered out of his mind big as he is and he hasn’t intellect enough to resent it. He’s taken to quiet boozing, and, Bobby, when the butt of a room goes on the drink, or takes to moping by himself, measures are necessary to pull him out of himself.’
‘What measures? ‘Man can’t run round coddling his men for ever.’
‘No. The men would precious soon show him that he was not wanted. You’ve got to —’
Here the Colour–Sergeant51 entered with some papers; Bobby reflected for a while as Revere looked through the Company forms.
‘Does Dormer do anything, Sergeant?’ Bobby asked with the air of one continuing an interrupted conversation.
‘No, sir. Does ‘is dooty like a hortomato,’ said the Sergeant, who delighted in long words. ‘A dirty soldier and ‘e’s under full stoppages for new kit. It’s covered with scales, sir.’
‘Scales? What scales?’
‘Fish-scales, sir. ‘E’s always pokin’ in the mud by the river an’ a-cleanin’ them muchly-fish with ‘is thumbs.’ Revere was still absorbed in the Company papers, and the Sergeant, who was sternly fond of Bobby, continued, ‘‘E generally goes down there when ‘e’s got ‘is skinful, beggin’ your pardon, sir, an’ they do say that the more lush inhe-briated ‘e is, the more fish ‘e catches. They call ’im the Looney Fishmonger in the Comp’ny, sir.’
Revere signed the last paper and the Sergeant retreated.
‘It’s a filthy52 amusement,’ sighed Bobby to himself. Then aloud to Revere: ‘Are you really worried about Dormer?’
‘A little. You see he’s never mad enough to send to hospital, or drunk enough to run in, but at any minute he may flare53 up, brooding and sulking as he does. He resents any interest being shown in him, and the only time I took him out shooting he all but shot me by accident.’
‘I fish,’ said Bobby with a wry54 face. ‘I hire a country-boat and go down the river from Thursday to Sunday, and the amiable55 Dormer goes with me if you can spare us both.’
‘You blazing young fool!’ said Revere, but his heart was full of much more pleasant words.
Bobby, the Captain of a dhoni, with Private Dormer for mate, dropped down the river on Thursday morning the Private at the bow, the Subaltern at the helm. The Private glared uneasily at the Subaltern, who respected the reserve of the Private.
After six hours, Dormer paced to the stern, saluted56, and said ‘Beg y’ pardon, sir, but was you ever on the Durh’m Canal?’
‘No,’ said Bobby Wick. ‘Come and have some tiffin.’
They ate in silence. As the evening fell, Private Dormer broke forth57, speaking to himself,
‘Hi was on the Durh’m Canal, jes’ such a night, come next week twelve month, a-trailin’ of my toes in the water.’ He smoked and said no more till bedtime.
The witchery of the dawn turned the gray river-reaches to purple, gold, and opal; and it was as though the lumbering58 dhoni crept across the splendours of a new heaven.
Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the glory below and around.
‘Well damn my eyes!’ said Private Dormer in an awed59 whisper. ‘This ’ere is like a bloomin’ gallantry-show!’ For the rest of the day he was dumb, but achieved an ensanguined filthiness60 through the cleaning of big fish.
The boat returned on Saturday evening. Dormer had been struggling with speech since noon. As the lines and luggage were being disembarked, he found tongue.
‘Beg y’ pardon, sir,’ he said, ‘but would you would you min’ shakin’ ‘ands with me, sir?’
‘Of course not,’ said Bobby, and he shook accordingly. Dormer returned to barracks and Bobby to mess.
‘He wanted a little quiet and some fishing, I think,’ said Bobby. ‘My aunt, but he’s a filthy sort of animal! Have you ever seen him clean them muchly-fish with ‘is thumbs”?’
‘Anyhow,’ said Revere three weeks later, ‘he’s doing his best to keep his things clean.’
When the spring died, Bobby joined in the general scramble61 for Hill leave, and to his surprise and delight secured three months.
‘As good a boy as I want,’ said Revere the admiring skipper.
‘The best of the batch,’ said the Adjutant to the Colonel. ‘Keep back that young skrim-shanker Porkiss, sir, and let Revere make him sit up.’
So Bobby departed joyously62 to Simla Pahar with a tin box of gorgeous raiment.
‘Son of Wick old Wick of Chota–Buldana? Ask him to dinner, dear,’ said the aged17 men.
‘What a nice boy!’ said the matrons and the maids.
‘First-class place, Simla. Oh, ripping!’ said Bobby Wick, and ordered new white cord breeches on the strength of it.
‘We’re in a bad way,’ wrote Revere to Bobby at the end of two months. ‘Since you left, the Regiment has taken to fever and is fairly rotten with it two hundred in hospital, about a hundred in cells drinking to keep off fever and the Companies on parade fifteen file strong at the outside. There’s rather more sickness in the out-villages than I care for, but then I’m so blistered63 with prickly-heat that I’m ready to hang myself. What’s the yarn64 about your mashing65 a Miss Haverley up there? Not serious, I hope? You’re over-young to hang millstones round your neck, and the Colonel will turf you out of that in double-quick time if you attempt it.’
It was not the Colonel that brought Bobby out of Simla, but a much-more-to-be-respected Commandant. The sickness in the out-villages spread, the Bazar was put out of bounds, and then came the news that the Tail Twisters must go into camp. The message flashed to the Hill stations. ‘Cholera Leave stopped Officers recalled.’ Alas66 for the white gloves in the neatly-soldered boxes, the rides and the dances and picnics that were to be, the loves half spoken, and the debts unpaid67! Without demur68 and without question, fast as tonga could fly or pony69 gallop, back to their Regiments and their Batteries, as though they were hastening to their weddings, fled the subalterns.
Bobby received his orders on returning from a dance at Viceregal Lodge70 where he had But only the Haverley girl knows what Bobby had said, or how many waltzes he had claimed for the next ball. Six in the morning saw Bobby at the Tonga Office in the drenching71 rain, the whirl of the last waltz still in his ears, and an intoxication72 due neither to wine nor waltzing in his brain.
‘Good man!’ shouted Deighton of the Horse Battery through the mist. ‘Whar you raise dat tonga? I’m coming with you. Ow! But I’ve a head and a half. I didn’t sit out all night. They say the Battery’s awful bad,’ and he hummed dolorously73,
Leave the what at the what’s-its-name,
Leave the flock without shelter,
Leave the corpse74 uninterred,
Leave the bride at the altar!
‘My faith! It’ll be more bally corpse than bride, though, this journey. Jump in, Bobby. Get on, Coachwan!’
On the Umballa platform waited a detachment of officers discussing the latest news from the stricken cantonment, and it was here that Bobby learned the real condition of the Tail Twisters.
‘They went into camp,’ said an elderly Major recalled from the whist-tables at Mussoorie to a sickly Native Regiment, ‘they went into camp with two hundred and ten sick in carts. Two hundred and ten fever cases only, and the balance looking like so many ghosts with sore eyes. A Madras Regiment could have walked through ’em.’
‘But they were as fit as be-damned when I left them!’ said Bobby.
‘Then you’d better make them as fit as bedamned when you rejoin,’ said the Major brutally75.
Bobby pressed his forehead against the rain-splashed window-pane as the train lumbered76 across the sodden77 Doab, and prayed for the health of the Tyneside Tail Twisters. Naini Tal had sent down her contingent78 with all speed; the lathering79 ponies80 of the Dalhousie Road staggered into Pathankot, taxed to the full stretch of their strength; while from cloudy Darjiling the Calcutta Mail whirled up the last straggler of the little army that was to fight a fight in which was neither medal nor honour for the winning, against an enemy none other than ‘the sickness that destroyeth in the noonday.’
And as each man reported himself, he said: ‘This is a bad business,’ and went about his own forthwith, for every Regiment and Battery in the cantonment was under canvas, the sickness bearing them company.
Bobby fought his way through the rain to the Tail Twisters’ temporary mess, and Revere could have fallen on the boy’s neck for the joy of seeing that ugly, wholesome81 phiz once more.
‘Keep’ em amused and interested,’ said Revere. ‘They went on the drink, poor fools, after the first two cases, and there was no improvement. Oh, it’s good to have you back, Bobby! Porkiss is a never mind.’
Deighton came over from the Artillery82 camp to attend a dreary83 mess dinner, and contributed to the general gloom by nearly weeping over the condition of his beloved Battery. Porkiss so far forgot himself as to insinuate84 that the presence of the officers could do no earthly good, and that the best thing would be to send the entire Regiment into hospital and ‘let the doctors look after them.’ Porkiss was demoralised with fear, nor was his peace of mind restored when Revere said coldly: ‘Oh! The sooner you go out the better, if that’s your way of thinking. Any public school could send us fifty good men in your place, but it takes time, time, Porkiss, and money, and a certain amount of trouble, to make a Regiment. ‘S’pose you’re the person we go into camp for, eh?’
Whereupon Porkiss was overtaken with a great and chilly85 fear which a drenching in the rain did not allay86, and, two days later, quitted this world for another where, men do fondly hope, allowances are made for the weaknesses of the flesh. The Regimental Sergeant–Major looked wearily across the Sergeants87’ Mess tent when the news was announced.
‘There goes the worst of them,’ he said. ‘It’ll take the best, and then, please God, it’ll stop.’ The Sergeants were silent till one said: ‘It couldn’t be him!’ and all knew of whom Travis was thinking.
Bobby Wick stormed through the tents of his Company, rallying, rebuking88, mildly, as is consistent with the Regulations, chaffing the faint-hearted; haling the sound into the watery89 sunlight when there was a break in the weather, and bidding them be of good cheer for their trouble was nearly at an end; scuttling90 on his dun pony round the outskirts91 of the camp, and heading back men who, with the innate92 perversity93 of British soldiers, were always wandering into infected villages, or drinking deeply from rain-flooded marshes94; comforting the panic-stricken with rude speech, and more than once tending the dying who had no friends the men without ‘townies’; organising, with banjos and burnt cork95, Sing-songs which should allow the talent of the Regiment full play; and generally, as he explained, ‘playing the giddy garden-goat all round.’
‘You’re worth half-a-dozen of us, Bobby,’ said Revere in a moment of enthusiasm. ‘How the devil do you keep it up?’
Bobby made no answer, but had Revere looked into the breast-pocket of his coat he might have seen there a sheaf of badly-written letters which perhaps accounted for the power that possessed96 the boy. A letter came to Bobby every other day. The spelling was not above reproach, but the sentiments must have been most satisfactory, for on receipt Bobby’s eyes softened97 marvellously, and he was wont98 to fall into a tender abstraction for a while ere, shaking his cropped head, he charged into his work.
By what power he drew after him the hearts of the roughest, and the Tail Twisters counted in their ranks some rough diamonds indeed, was a mystery to both skipper and C. O., who learned from the regimental chaplain that Bobby was considerably99 more in request in the hospital tents than the Reverend John Emery.
‘The men seem fond of you. Are you in the hospitals much?’ said the Colonel, who did his daily round and ordered the men to get well with a hardness that did not cover his bitter grief.
‘A little, sir,’ said Bobby.
‘Shouldn’t go there too often if I were you. They say it’s not contagious100, but there’s no use in running unnecessary risks. We can’t afford to have you down, y’know.’
Six days later, it was with the utmost difficulty that the post-runner plashed his way out to the camp with the mail-bags, for the rain was falling in torrents101. Bobby received a letter, bore it off to his tent, and, the programme for the next week’s Sing-song being satisfactorily disposed of, sat down to answer it. For an hour the unhandy pen toiled102 over the paper, and where sentiment rose to more than normal tide-level, Bobby Wick stuck out his tongue and breathed heavily. He was not used to letter-writing.
‘Beg y’ pardon, sir,’ said a voice at the tent door; ‘but Dormer’s ‘orrid bad, sir, an’ they’ve taken him orf, sir.’
‘Damn Private Dormer and you too!’ said Bobby Wick, running the blotter over the half-finished letter. ‘Tell him I’ll come in the morning.’
‘‘E’s awful bad, sir,’ said the voice hesitatingly. There was an undecided squelching103 of heavy boots.
‘Well?’ said Bobby impatiently.
‘Excusin’ ‘imself before ‘and for takin’ the liberty, ‘e says it would be a comfort for to assist ’im, sir, if —’
‘Tattoo lao! Get my pony! Here, come in out of the rain till I’m ready. What blasted nuisances you are! That’s brandy. Drink some; you want it. Hang on to my stirrup and tell me if I go too fast.’
Strengthened by a four-finger ‘nip’ which he swallowed without a wink104, the Hospital Orderly kept up with the slipping, mud-stained, and very disgusted pony as it shambled to the hospital tent.
Private Dormer was certainly ‘‘orrid bad.’ He had all but reached the stage of collapse105 and was not pleasant to look upon.
‘What’s this, Dormer?’ said Bobby, bending over the man. ‘You’re not going out this time. You’ve got to come fishing with me once or twice more yet.’
The blue lips parted and in the ghost of a whisper said, ‘Beg y’ pardon, sir, disturbin’ of you now, but would you min’ ‘oldin’ my ‘and, sir?’
Bobby sat on the side of the bed, and the icy cold hand closed on his own like a vice1, forcing a lady’s ring which was on the little finger deep into the flesh. Bobby set his lips and waited, the water dripping from the hem20 of his trousers. An hour passed and the grasp of the hand did not relax, nor did the expression of the drawn106 face change. Bobby with infinite craft lit himself a cheroot with the left hand, his right arm was numbed107 to the elbow, and resigned himself to a night of pain.
Dawn showed a very white-faced Subaltern sitting on the side of a sick man’s cot, and a Doctor in the doorway108 using language unfit for publication.
‘Have you been here all night, you young ass2?’ said the Doctor.
‘There or thereabouts,’ said Bobby ruefully. ‘He’s frozen on to me.’
Dormer’s mouth shut with a click. He turned his head and sighed. The clinging hand opened, and Bobby’s arm fell useless at his side.
‘He’ll do,’ said the Doctor quietly. ‘It must have been a toss-up all through the night. ‘Think you’re to be congratulated on this case.’
‘Oh, bosh!’ said Bobby. ‘I thought the man had gone out long ago only only I didn’t care to take my hand away. Rub my arm down, there’s a good chap. What a grip the brute has! I’m chilled to the marrow109!’ He passed out of the tent shivering.
Private Dormer was allowed to celebrate his repulse110 of Death by strong waters. Four days later he sat on the side of his cot and said to the patients mildly: ‘I’d ‘a’ liken to ‘a’ spoken to ’im so I should.’
But at that time Bobby was reading yet another letter he had the most persistent111 correspondent of any man in camp and was even then about to write that the sickness had abated112, and in another week at the outside would be gone. He did not intend to say that the chill of a sick man’s hand seemed to have struck into the heart whose capacities for affection he dwelt on at such length. He did intend to enclose the illustrated113 programme of the forthcoming Sing-song whereof he was not a little proud. He also intended to write on many other matters which do not concern us, and doubtless would have done so but for the slight feverish114 headache which made him dull and unresponsive at mess.
‘You are overdoing115 it, Bobby,’ said his skipper. ‘Might give the rest of us credit of doing a little work. You go on as if you were the whole Mess rolled into one. Take it easy.’
‘I will,’ said Bobby. ‘I’m feeling done up, somehow.’ Revere looked at him anxiously and said nothing.
There was a flickering116 of lanterns about the camp that night, and a rumour that brought men out of their cots to the tent doors, a paddling of the naked feet of doolie-bearers and the rush of a galloping117 horse.
‘Wot’s up?’ asked twenty tents; and through twenty tents ran the answer ‘Wick, ‘e’s down.’
They brought the news to Revere and he groaned118. ‘Any one but Bobby and I shouldn’t have cared! The Sergeant–Major was right.’
‘Not going out this journey,’ gasped119 Bobby, as he was lifted from the doolie. ‘Not going out this journey.’ Then with an air of supreme120 conviction ‘I can’t, you see.’
‘Not if I can do anything!’ said the Surgeon–Major, who had hastened over from the mess where he had been dining.
He and the Regimental Surgeon fought together with Death for the life of Bobby Wick. Their work was interrupted by a hairy apparition121 in a bluegray dressing-gown who stared in horror at the bed and cried ‘Oh, my Gawd! It can’t be ’im!’ until an indignant Hospital Orderly whisked him away.
If care of man and desire to live could have done aught, Bobby would have been saved. As it was, he made a fight of three days, and the Surgeon–Major’s brow uncreased. ‘We’ll save him yet,’ he said; and the Surgeon, who, though he ranked with the Captain, had a very youthful heart, went out upon the word and pranced122 joyously in the mud.
‘Not going out this journey,’ whispered Bobby Wick gallantly123, at the end of the third day.
‘Bravo!’ said the Surgeon–Major. ‘That’s the way to look at it, Bobby.’
As evening fell a gray shade gathered round Bobby’s mouth, and he turned his face to the tent wall wearily. The Surgeon–Major frowned.
‘I’m awfully124 tired,’ said Bobby, very faintly. ‘What’s the use of bothering me with medicine? I don’t want it. Let me alone.’
The desire for life had departed, and Bobby was content to drift away on the easy tide of Death.
‘It’s no good,’ said the Surgeon–Major. ‘He doesn’t want to live. He’s meeting it, poor child.’ And he blew his nose.
Half a mile away the regimental band was playing the overture125 to the Sing-song, for the men had been told that Bobby was out of danger. The clash of the brass126 and the wail127 of the horns reached Bobby’s ears.
Is there a single joy or pain,
That I should never kno-ow?
You do not love me, ’tis in vain,
Bid me good-bye and go!
An expression of hopeless irritation128 crossed the boy’s face, and he tried to shake his head.
The Surgeon–Major bent129 down ‘What is it, Bobby?’ ‘Not that waltz,’ muttered Bobby. ‘That’s our own our very ownest own. Mummy dear.’
With this he sank into the stupor130 that gave place to death early next morning.
Revere, his eyes red at the rims131 and his nose very white, went into Bobby’s tent to write a letter to Papa Wick which should bow the white head of the ex-Commissioner of Chota–Buldana in the keenest sorrow of his life. Bobby’s little store of papers lay in confusion on the table, and among them a half-finished letter. The last sentence ran: ‘So you see, darling, there is really no fear, because as long as I know you care for me and I care for you, nothing can touch me.’
Revere stayed in the tent for an hour. When he came out his eyes were redder than ever.
Private Conklin sat on a turned-down bucket, and listened to a not unfamiliar132 tune8. Private Conklin was a convalescent and should have been tenderly treated.
‘Ho!’ said Private Conklin. ‘There’s another bloomin’ orf’cer da ed.’
The bucket shot from under him, and his eyes filled with a smithyful of sparks. A tall man in a blue-gray bedgown was regarding him with deep disfavour.
‘You ought to take shame for yourself, Conky! Orf’cer? Bloomin’ orf’cer? I’ll learn you to misname the likes of ’im. Hangel! Bloomin’ Hangel! That’s wot’e is!’
And the Hospital Orderly was so satisfied with the justice of the punishment that he did not even order Private Dormer back to his cot.
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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13
stinted
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| v.限制，节省（stint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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14
fortify
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| v.强化防御，为…设防；加强，强化 | |
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15
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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16
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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17
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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18
bruise
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| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
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19
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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21
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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22
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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23
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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24
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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26
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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27
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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28
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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29
crutch
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| n.T字形拐杖；支持，依靠，精神支柱 | |
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30
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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31
wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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33
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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34
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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35
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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36
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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37
attested
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| adj.经检验证明无病的，经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
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38
wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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39
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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40
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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41
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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42
hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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43
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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44
revere
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| vt.尊崇，崇敬，敬畏 | |
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45
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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46
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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47
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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48
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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49
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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50
brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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51
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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52
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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53
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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54
wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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55
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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56
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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57
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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58
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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59
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
filthiness
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61
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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62
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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63
blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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64
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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65
mashing
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| 捣碎 | |
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66
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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67
unpaid
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| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
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68
demur
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| v．表示异议，反对 | |
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69
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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70
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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71
drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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72
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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73
dolorously
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| adj. 悲伤的；痛苦的；悲哀的；阴沉的 | |
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74
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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75
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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76
lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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77
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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78
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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79
lathering
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| n.痛打，怒骂v.（指肥皂）形成泡沫( lather的现在分词 )；用皂沫覆盖；狠狠地打 | |
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80
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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81
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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82
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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83
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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84
insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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85
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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86
allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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87
sergeants
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| 警官( sergeant的名词复数 )； （美国警察）警佐； （英国警察）巡佐； 陆军（或空军）中士 | |
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88
rebuking
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的现在分词 ) | |
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89
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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90
scuttling
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| n.船底穿孔，打开通海阀（沉船用）v.使船沉没( scuttle的现在分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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91
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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92
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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93
perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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94
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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95
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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96
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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97
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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98
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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99
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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100
contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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101
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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102
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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103
squelching
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| v.发吧唧声，发扑哧声( squelch的现在分词 )；制止；压制；遏制 | |
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104
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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105
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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106
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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107
numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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109
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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110
repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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111
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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112
abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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113
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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114
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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115
overdoing
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| v.做得过分( overdo的现在分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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116
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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117
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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118
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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119
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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120
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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121
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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122
pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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124
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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125
overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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126
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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127
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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128
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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129
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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130
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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131
rims
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| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
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132
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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