On the Monday morning following our visit to Bindle, Dick Little had descended1 to General Burdett-Coombe's flat to make a formal apology. The old boy had laughed off the incident as of no importance, refused to allow Dick Little to pay for the damage, and vowed2 that he liked young fellows with a spice of the devil in them, had been young himself once. He gave his guest a glass of Trafalgar brandy, and had readily accepted an invitation to be present at next Sunday's gathering3.
"Damme, sir, I think it will be safer up there than down here," he said as he gazed ruefully up at the ceiling from which hung the wreck4 of his electrolier.
From that time the General became one of our most regular members, and was well in the first flight as regards popularity. He proved a splendid old fellow, full of good stories of his campaigning experiences, modest and kindly5, for all his gust6 of anger on the night of our first meeting.
From the first he was Sallie's slave. One night he was raving7 to half-a-dozen of us about Sallie's eyes. "Such eyes," he cried, looking from one to the other as if challenging contradiction, "I never could resist grey eyes. Why damme, sir, if I'd married a girl with grey eyes (the General is a bachelor) I should have been as harmless as—as——"
"A taube, sir," suggested the Boy slyly.
The General turned on him like a cyclone8.
"When I was your age, sir, I should have been shot for interrupting a——" Then the Boy smiled that radiant, disarming9 smile of his and the General made a grab at him and missed.
"Wot's a 'towber,' sir?" Bindle enquired10 of Windover in a whisper. Bindle's whispers are as clearly heard as those of the villain11 in a melodrama12.
"Before the war, J.B.," replied Windover, "'taube' was the German for 'dove'; since then it has become the vehicle of frightfulness13."
Bindle looked from Windover to Dare with wrinkled forehead.
"Stripped of its corrosive14 verbiage15, Windover means that 'taube' is the name of a German aeroplane."
"Oh! a tawb," said Bindle, his face clearing. "'E do love to wrap things up, don't 'e?" he added, indicating Windover with an ever-ready thumb. "Anyone could see 'e ain't married."
Later in the evening I heard the Boy say to the General in what he meant to be a whisper—
"I hope I didn't offend you, sir. I ought not to have said——"
"Tut, tut," said the General. "It's all right, Boy. Damme; but times have changed since I was a youngster," and he pinched the Boy's arm affectionately.
Upon the subject of the new armies the General was particularly interesting. It was easy to see that, coming from army stock, he found the civilian16 soldier difficult to reconcile with military tradition; but he was a sportsman above all things.
"My Gad17! sir," he had exclaimed to a few of us one evening some days after his return from France, where he had been in an official capacity, "they're wonderful. I was prejudiced, I confess it. Imagine an army of stockbrokers18, lawyers, fiddlers, clerks and chauffeurs19. What could they know of soldiering? But when I saw them, talked with them, why damme, sir, they made me feel a child at the game."
"Keen!" he exclaimed in answer to a question. Then he laughed, "Why there was one young lieutenant20-colonel who started as a private two years ago, a splendid officer, and he actually told me that he hated soldiering, hated it, sir, yet was carrying-on as if he cared for nothing else. It's amazing!
"In my time," and the old boy straightened himself to his full five feet nine inches, "the prospect21 of war sent us half wild with excitement; but these fellows don't like it, have no enthusiasm, want to get back to their pens and tennis-rackets; yet they're born soldiers.
"They talk about funk and feeling afraid in a way that would have got a man ragged22 out of his regiment23 in my day;——Damme, I don't understand it!"
"So you don't altogether disapprove24 of the new army, General?" It was Sallie who enquired. She had just entered unobserved.
"Disapprove!" cried the General spinning round and shaking hands. "Disapprove! It's a privilege for an old fogey like me to be allowed to talk to such fellows."
"General," said Sallie quietly, "I think the chivalry25 of the old army is equal to the spirit of the new," and the General actually blushed, at least the red-brown of his cheeks took on a bluish tinge26.
When the time came for the General's story I was embarrassed by the choice he offered. There were yarns27 about every quarter of the globe, and half the races of the earth. Wherever there had been a chance of a brush, the old boy had managed to get sent somewhere close at hand, and when the smoke had burst into flame, he invariably discovered that a month or two's leave was due to him. All his leave seemed to be spent in getting attached to someone else's expeditionary force. Reading between the lines it was easy to see that he was a good officer, and he never seemed to find much difficulty in getting a staff appointment.
I
It was one of those Indian Frontier affairs of which the world hears little. In high quarters there is a vague consciousness that something has happened, a paragraph or two in the newspapers, with a list of casualties, announces the return of the heroes, a few families are plunged28 into mourning and there the matter ends.
An expeditionary force was trailing its sinuous29, sensitive body wearily along upon the homeward march. The officers were gloomy and short of speech, the men sullen30 and dispirited. In the hearts of all there was a glow of dull resentment31. They had not suffered defeat it is true; still no crushing blow had been struck, and to-day as they toiled32 silently along in a cloud of dust there was dissatisfaction, a smouldering passion of discontent.
Brigadier-General Charles Stanley de Winton Mossop, C.B., was a man of theories, and the soldier understands theories in direct ratio to their successful application. He is a cog in the great machine of war, and is content if the whole mechanism33 work smoothly34. If he be conscious of any friction35 of the parts, he unhesitatingly condemns36 the engineer.
Two months previously37, some five thousand men of all arms, had set out elated at the prospect of active service. Even the old campaigners were cynically38 jovial39 as they told the "recruities" what to expect. "You wait, sonnies," Sergeant40 Tonks, a weather-beaten old veteran of twenty years' service, had said good-humouredly, "You just wait, you'll see!" They had seen! They had seen two months of soldiering under service conditions with nothing to show for it, and their ideas of applied41 war had undergone considerable revision.
They had seen two months of arduous42 campaigning against a foe43 that had never learned the meaning of defeat; had never retired44 or broken but to come again. A foe that sniped all night, and hung about the flanks all day; now showing itself ahead; not threatening the rear, with a special eye for a rush at awkward moments. Striking camp had become a positive torture, and the hour before dawn a period of imaginative suspense45; for the men's confidence had been shaken.
At first the subalterns had talked sagely46 about "protection on the line of march," scouting47 and the value of "cover." They had views, and a healthy competition had sprung up amongst those in charge of scouting-parties and "flank guards." They had worked with an almost incredible zeal48. Every likely bit of "cover" was not only carefully examined, but examined with enthusiasm, even if it were no larger than a man's head. There had been innumerable false alarms, which demonstrated clearly their watchfulness49. But that was now a memory. The natural eagerness to excel had been damped, and there had insidiously50 crept into the minds of all the suspicion that they were badly led.
Brigadier-General Mossop had evolved what was then an entirely51 new and original conception of the art of war. The present command gave him an opportunity of putting into practice his pet scheme of communicating orders, in the event of night attack, by coloured fires and rockets. He had lectured his officers upon the impossibility of conveying commands accurately52 by word of mouth in the darkness and confusion of a night attack. Incidentally he had pointed53 out the advantages of his own method. They had listened respectfully, received his written "Orders of Night Attack" in grim silence, and among themselves had dubbed54 their commander "Old Brock"; and "Old Brock" he remained to the end.
There was one young subaltern, inclined to regard soldiering as a subject for serious study, who regarded Old Brock's craze for novelty as a grave danger. In a perimeter55 camp of 5,000 men, rocket communication was, to his view, ridiculous. It might, he argued, at any moment involve the force in disaster. He cast many speculative56 glances at the chest in which the fireworks were carefully arranged in compartments57, each numbered with embossed figures, enabling them to be felt in the dark.
For days the young subaltern went his way wrapped in his own gloom. At length the clouds seemed to disappear as if by magic, and it was noted58 that he was very frequently seen with the sergeant who had charge of Old Brock's chest.
After a week's march, the force was well into the enemy's country. One dark night a nervous sentry59 had fired his rifle and explained the circumstance by an account of shadowy forms. Voices barked out peremptory60 commands, men clutched their rifles and formed up, maxims62 were cleared and everything made ready. Presently a rocket rose with a majestic63 whirr and broke into a hundred green stars.
"Old Brock's at it," murmured Major O'Malley.
"That's Prepare to Receive Enemy," murmured a subaltern, who had given much time to the study of his Chief's "Orders."
"Rather late in the day to prepare," growled65 a captain of gunners. "Might as well say 'Prepare to cut your teeth.'"
The men stood silent, some with a grin of expectation as they gazed in the direction of the Brigadier's tent; others with a queer shivery feeling at the base of the spine66, which communicated itself to the knees and teeth. The butt-end of a rifle struck the ground with a dry, hard snap. "Silence!" barked a voice. There was a murmur64 of deep expostulation, passionate67 but repressed.
Then a curious thing happened. First a Roman candle vomited68 its coloured balls into the inky night, casting a ghostly green light upon the upturned faces.
"Enemy breaking through to the East. My God!" gasped69 the subaltern.
There was a movement among the men, and a splutter of rifle-fire which soon died away.
"As you were," shouted a voice. A moment's silence. Next there rose three red and blue rockets, then a swarm70 of whirring, hissing71, serpent-like streams of fire, lighting72 up the whole encampment as they broke into a thousand points of fire.
It had been the Brigadier's theory to fire the rockets at an angle so as to light up the surrounding country whilst leaving the encampment in darkness. There was a laugh from the ranks, a short, sharp, snapping sound that died almost with its own utterance73. More rockets followed, then a red fire gradually sprang into being, dull at first; but growing in volume until eventually it embraced in its ruddy glow the whole country for half a mile round.
"There ain't much fun in watchin' fireworks when yer can't say wot yer think o' them," grumbled74 one man in a whisper to his neighbour.
The subaltern was busily engaged in trying to read the "Orders of Night Attack." He muttered brokenly from time to time. "Enemy repulsed75 North.—-Withdraw to inner defences.—Square broken to West—Fix bayonets."—He ceased, and only the crackle of bursting rockets broke the stillness. The red fire began to wane77, the rockets ceased, and the darkness became more pronounced. Later, no enemy being discovered, the guards were re-posted and the camp reassumed its normal appearance.
How it happened that the new code of signalling went wrong was never satisfactorily explained. The Brigadier was furious, and next day subjected Sergeant "Rockets," as he was ever afterwards called among the men, to a searching examination. The sergeant could never be persuaded to give an explanation of how it occurred, or what took place afterwards in the Brigadier's tent. There was a story current to the effect that "Rockets" had deliberately78 brought about the fiasco as a protest against innovation; but the currency of camp-stories is no index to their accuracy.
Three days later an attack upon the camp at dawn had been repulsed with loss; but it had not been followed up. The men chafed79 and murmured among themselves; the officers saw a golden opportunity for a decisive blow pass unnoticed. "Old Brock," who alone seemed tranquil80, penned lengthy81 dispatches descriptive of the enemy's defeat and discouragement.
So matters went on. Nothing more was accomplished82 beyond a few successful skirmishes, which to the Brigadier appeared in the light of important victories. The correspondents, there were three, chafed and fretted83.
"It's a damned shame," remarked Chisholme hotly, "that the men's hearts should be shrivelled up by such an example of official incapacity. There'll be more heard of this when I get near the telegraph," he added significantly. "You chaps shall get your own back, or* The Morning Independent* is a pulseless, chicken-hearted rag."
Chisholme's directness and picturesque84 phraseology were proverbial. On this occasion his remarks were directed at Major Blaisby and another officer lounging about the correspondent's tent.
Chisholme had an influential85 family behind him and this, coupled with the high value he placed upon his own opinions, assured his two friends that, sooner or later, there would be the devil to pay, and the knowledge comforted them. In spite of his insufferable habit of bragging86, Chisholme was popular. Strictly87 speaking he was a non-combatant; yet he had already had several opportunities of showing his mettle88. On one occasion at least he had performed an action which, had he been in the Service, would have assured him of the V.C.
Between Correspondent and General a coolness had sprung up. Once the Brigadier had taken occasion to rebuke89 him for his recklessness, urging as a reason for the remonstrance90 the possibility of some portion of the force being involved in a disaster, owing to his precipitancy and lack of judgment91.
Now that the —— Punitive92 Expedition was upon the homeward march. The casualties among mules93 had been extremely heavy, even for a frontier force, and the Brigadier was faced with a grave problem. At a spot about four days' march from the frontier, he announced his intention of establishing a temporary post to guard the sick, the guns and the surplus ammunition94. It was a risky95 proceeding96; but the force was running short of food, and must make forced marches to the frontier.
A day was spent in throwing up hasty defenses ("Ruddy scratches," Sergeant Tonks called them), a day spent in active speculation98 as to who would be selected for the command.
When Major Blaisby of the —th Gurkhas was informed that the Brigadier's choice had fallen upon him, he flushed with pleasure: but when he heard that only fifty men were to be left with him he almost gasped with astonishment99. The news spread with the rapidity peculiar100 to camps, and Blaisby was the centre of a group of brother officers eager in their congratulations, and fervid101 in their denunciations of the insufficiency of the force.
Blaisby and Chisholme had been on intimate terms, in fact a warm friendship had sprung up between the two men. Immediately on hearing the news, Chisholme had marched straight to the Brigadier's tent and requested to be allowed to remain behind as a volunteer. He met with a curt102 refusal.
That night, those who were collected in the correspondent's tent, were treated to a remarkable103 display of eloquence104. Chisholme, with his back to the tent-pole, poured forth105 a burning stream of protest at not being allowed to stay.
Blaisby stood by moody106 and silent. At length he was persuaded by his impulsive107 friend to seek out the Brigadier and ask for a larger force. He left with unwilling108 steps.
In the midst of a particularly eloquent109 passage on the part of Chisholme, Blaisby returned. He was white to the lips, and there was an ominous110 quiver about the corners of his mouth. A dead silence greeted him. Then it was that Chisholme showed himself to be something more than an orator111. Walking up to Blaisby he linked his arm in his, and led him out of the tent. When he returned alone the Correspondent's tent was empty. There is a fine sense of chivalry among English gentlemen.
Two hours later Chisholme made his way through the darkness to Blaisby's tent. The two men paced up and down conversing112 earnestly in undertones. The soft light of the false dawn was touching113 the Eastern horizon before they parted. Chisholme returned to his tent and threw himself down to snatch an hour's sleep. Blaisby continued to pace up and down until the light grew stronger, when he fetched a small portmanteau from his tent, and at this improvised114 table he sat writing letters until reveille sounded.
As soon as the Brigadier was stirring his orderly informed him that Lieutenant Blaisby wished to know when it would be convenient to see him. The Brigadier, suppressing an exclamation115 of impatience116, bade the orderly shew him in. For half-an-hour the two remained together. Finally Blaisby left the tent with a grim, set face and went to seek Chisholme.
The sun was well up when the march was resumed. As the main body got into motion the men broke out into "Auld117 Lang Syne118." The Brigadier sent an A.D.C. to "stop that damned folly119." There was a wringing120 of hands as his comrades bade farewell to Blaisby. Three hearty121 cheers split the air, bringing a frown to the Brigadier's face. He said nothing, feeling that the men were none too well in hand. As he rode along by the side of his Brigade-Major he surprised that officer by remarking "Blaisby is a very able officer,—we shall hear more of him."
Chisholme remained behind until the rearguard was almost out of sight, then with a hasty handshake and a "God bless you, old chap" he galloped122 off.
Blaisby now found himself with thirty-five native and fifteen white troops, two subalterns and a young surgeon, in all fifty-three. He walked round the hastily formed entrenchment123 and viewed the whole with a calm impassive face. Turning to the senior sub. he bade him call the men together. In a few words he told them that they were upon a very dangerous service. The work would be arduous and the fighting hard, but they must remember that their own safety and the honour of the corps124 from which they were drawn125 depended upon their exertions126. The men cheered, and the eyes of the little Gurkhas flashed at the thought of handgrips with the enemy.
Directly the mid-day meal was over, the force was divided into three parties: one was sent out scouting, another ordered to sleep, whilst the third, under Blaisby himself, set to work with pick and spade.
For two days and nights they worked without cessation: entrenching127, scouting, sleeping; sleeping, entrenching, scouting. "Blaisby'll be a corpse128 or a colonel before the year's out," remarked the junior sub. At first the men worked doggedly129, as well-trained soldiers will. They were taking the measure of their commander, watching him furtively130 whilst on duty, discussing him eagerly over their pipes when relieved. Soon they began to fall under the spell of his personality, and a wave of enthusiasm took possession of them. The private is ever ready to acknowledge a master mind, and next to knowing that his officer is a gentleman, he likes best to feel that he is a being of superior attainments131.
At the end of two days, a formidable array of defences had been completed. In the centre a pit, some six feet deep and thirty feet square, had been dug. This was roofed over with canvas. A cutting three feet wide gave entrance to "the oven," as it came to be called, which was to act as arsenal132 and hospital for the worst cases. The guns and much of the surplus ammunition were built into the camp-defences.
Everything now being ready, the men were ordered to rest. Never did men sleep so in the history of war. They were sick of sleep; yet Blaisby's personality had taken such a grip of their minds, that eyes would close mechanically at his approach. He wished them to sleep; they would sleep if it killed them.
One night Blaisby happened to overhear a remark of the surgeon. "It's all very well to say sleep," he grumbled, "But how the devil is a man to sleep unless he's tired?" The next day orders were given to keep the men occupied with sports. Running, jumping, wrestling, skipping, sparring and every conceivable form of exercise was indulged in. Blaisby gave prizes in money, until his small store was exhausted133, then he turned to his kit134 and distributed all he could actually spare as prizes. The men were thus kept interested and occupied.
On the third day after the departure of the main body the enemy was sighted; why they had not attacked at once was never explained. The next day a movement was observed upon some rising ground, to the eastward135. Forms were observed flitting about, tiny dots of white relieved here and there by a splash of brilliant green, as a banner caught the rays of the setting sun. That night a keener watch than ever was kept.
An hour before dawn, a rifle shot snapped out sharply upon the crisp night air. Absolute silence reigned136. Presently a sharp challenge rang out, followed by a shot and a yell, then a trailing splutter of reports, then silence again. The enemy drew off on finding everything ready for his reception.
After this the little garrison137 knew no repose138. Attack followed attack, and seldom a night passed without an alarm. It was evidently the object of the enemy to wear out the defenders139 with constant watching. On one occasion they almost rushed the defences, and were repulsed only at the point of the bayonet. Blaisby grew grave as he saw the casualties increase. The suspense and frequent alarms began to tell their tale. The men were worn out, and although they slept whenever opportunity offered during the day, it was always with the possibility of being awakened140 to repel141 an attack.
Each night Blaisby spent upon the look-out platform, and was frequently to be seen at dawn scanning the horizon to the south through his field-glasses.
One evening, after a more than usually spirited attack by the enemy, Blaisby sat silent at the table, whilst the senior sub. and the surgeon talked over the day's work. They had been puzzled at the action of their commander after the repulse76. He had selected ten of the Gurkhas and taken them into the "Oven," posting a sentry at the entrance and had remained there with the junior sub. until dinner-time. The senior sub. and the surgeon were piqued142 at not being confided143 in.
The surgeon had just finished a lengthy harangue144 upon the methods it was desirable to adopt in savage145 warfare146, ridiculing147 the textbooks as academic. As he concluded he raised his eyes from their gloomy contemplation of the end of his cigar. They became fixed148, his jaw149 dropped. The senior sub. half-turned to see the cause. He uttered an exclamation! At the entrance of the tent stood a grim and ghastly figure, with rolling eyes and grinning lips. The two men stared as if bewitched at what appeared to be a reincarnation of Beelzebub. The apparition150 remained motionless save for the movement of its eyes, hideous151, unearthly eyes, encircled with rings of red and surmounted152 by white brows. Then there was the great red mouth and the diabolical153 black horns which sprang suddenly from snowy hair.
Every bone in the dusky body was outlined in white. The two men turned almost appealingly to Blaisby, who sat impassively watching them.
"Sorry to startle you; it's an experiment," he said as he made a motion with his hand at which the figure disappeared, "upon men whose minds are trained against superstition154."
That was all. He rose and went out, leaving the surgeon and senior sub. speechless and indignant. At midnight eleven ghostly figures emerged from the "Oven" and slid away into the darkness. Shortly afterwards Blaisby mounted to the look-out platform where he stood silent and immovable, his gaze directed eastward.
II
Whilst Blaisby and his men were busily occupied with the defense97 of "Old Brock's Folly," the main body of the Expeditionary Force had reached the frontier. The Brigadier appeared uncertain how to act. The officers were moody, and the men silent, almost sullen. Orders were obeyed without alacrity155, without zeal, without cheerfulness.
Two days passed without any preparations for the relief of the "Post." At length with a rather over-done careless air the Brigadier remarked to his Senior Colonel upon the spiritlessness of the troops after a "victorious156 campaign." The Senior Colonel made an equally casual rejoinder. The men were tired, he had frequently noticed a similar state of affairs at the end of an expedition. There the matter had ended for the moment. Later a further remark from the Brigadier had met with a like evasion157 on the part of his subordinate.
That Brigadier-General Mossop's nerves were disordered was plainly shown by his lack of decision. Orders were given and countermanded158; elaborate dispatches were penned, only to be destroyed an hour later. At last the Senior Colonel was startled by a point blank request for his opinion as to the advisability of despatching a force to relieve the post without waiting for further supplies.
A decisive, "I consider it highly expedient159, sir, if not too late," was not reassuring160.
For two days the Brigadier pondered over the significant words. "If not too late." He saw the possibility of the dreaded161 official reprimand. At length the order was given: a third of the force was to retrace162 its steps and relieve the little garrison, "If not too late," the words obtruded163 themselves upon the Brigadier's mind and irritated him.
Thus it happened that, after days of inactivity and indecision, the Relief Force set out under the command of the Senior Colonel. As it swung off to the brisk notes of the bugle164, spirits rose as if by magic, jokes were cracked amongst the rank and file, the old jokes that yesterday would have fallen flat now drew a hearty laugh. All were elated at the prospect of a brush with the enemy. This was to be a fight to the finish. The Senior Colonel was a soldier of a different type from the Brigadier. He had no theories, as theories are generally understood. His dictum was to fight—and win. If there were heavy casualties, he deplored165 it as a necessary feature of his profession. The men knew this—there would be hard knocks and they thanked God for it.
Shortly before sunset on the third day, the force halted behind some rising ground about four miles south-east of the "Post." The enemy had been located and the Senior Colonel was not the man to wait. He had resolved to push on and risk a night attack. Half the column was to make a detour166 and approach from the north-east, whilst the other half attacked from the eastward. After a hasty meal and a short rest, the first party moved off guided by the stars and a compass. Silently it disappeared into the darkness. An hour later the other half set out.
Chisholme, who had managed to be included, was well ahead with the advance guard of the first column. After an hour's steady marching to the eastward they bore round to the north and later swung round to the south-west. Half an hour passed and the scouts167 brought in word that the enemy's camp lay about a mile ahead, a little to the westward168 of the line of march. Presently the advance guard halted to allow the main body to come up. The order came to continue the advance "with great caution."
Scarcely were they in motion again before a point of red fire caught Chisholme's eye, followed by several similar lights. Wild yells broke the stillness, more lights followed until the whole encampment was bathed in a blood-red glow. Through his night-glasses, Chisholme saw a veritable pandemonium169. Dancing forms—eerie, horrible, devilish—moved rhythmically170 to and fro, each the centre of a sphere of hellish light. Was it some nightmare of the Infernal Regions? Could he be dreaming? He looked round. Officers and men were gazing wonder-struck.
The noise was fiendish: hoarse171 shouts, shrill172 cries, terror-stricken yells split the air. Gradually the glow increased in volume. Wild forms were seen silhouetted173 sharply against the light, rushing hither and thither174 in a frenzy175 of terror. Slowly the strange figures approached the camp: dancing and swaying, without hurry, without excitement. Chisholme rubbed his eyes, then looking again beheld176 a wild mob of fleeing tribesmen coming straight towards him, bent177 only on escaping from the furies.
A few short, sharp orders rang out. A moment later the crackle of rifles drowned the cries. A machine-gun began to stutter and spit. The terrified tribesmen paused stunned178 and dropped in dozens. Firing was heard to the southward—the others were at it also.
At this moment the advance was sounded. The main force had come up, deployed179 and with a yell rushed forward to the charge. A portion of the enemy broke away to the north; but the majority stood transfixed with terror. Some threw themselves upon the bayonets, others stood impassively awaiting death. A few who had weapons showed fight; but were soon cut down.
A couple of rockets rose to the westward.
"Thank God," muttered the Senior Colonel, "we're in time." The work of slaughter180 continued grimly, silently: short sobbing181 coughs were heard as the cold steel found its mark.
Presently the recall was sounded. The men were becoming scattered182 and the Senior Colonel was troubled about those queer figures still to be seen gathered round the fire. Collecting a few men together, he advanced. As he approached, the forms started whirling and dancing, the coloured fires burst out again and the astonished officer saw eleven careering forms, skeletons apparently183, with white hair and black horns.
"Well, I'm damned!" he gasped.
"And Hell within jumping distance," muttered a voice.
"Who goes there?" rang out the challenge apparently from the tallest devil.
"Friend," was the reply.
"Advance and give the countersign184."
"Who the devil are you?" burst out the Senior Colonel.
"Servants of Her Britannic Majesty185, Queen Victoria."
With shouts and laughter officers and men alike rushed forward, and there was a babel of congratulatory voices.
III
Dawn was breaking when Major Blaisby finished his account of what had happened during those four eventful weeks. "It was Chisholme's idea," he concluded, "that I should ask the Brigadier for the fireworks in order to give his system an extended trial." He did not add that the object of the request was to placate186 his superior, in order to obtain the maxim61.
When the light became stronger, the Senior Colonel examined the defences, and complimented Blaisby in his short, gruff manner. "You've made a fine show, Blaisby," he said in conclusion, "A damned sight finer show than I should have made."
Chisholme had his opportunity later, when The Morning Independent printed a series of brilliantly written articles upon the campaign and its ending, and although more moderate in tone than many expected, Brigadier General Mossop saw in those articles the explanation of his receiving no official mark of approval for the way in which he had conducted the —— Punitive Expedition.
"An' where did you come in, sir?" enquired Bindle of the General, when he had finished "leading the applause" with his mallet187.
"I?" said the General, "What do you mean?"
"Well, sir, I wondered if by any chance it was you wot mixed the fireworks so as they all went off wrong."
The General laughed. Sallie said the General was at his best when a laugh caused his teeth to flash white against the surrounding tan.
"A shrewd guess, by jove," he exclaimed, "Yes, it was I who mixed the fireworks."
"And what would you do sir now if a sub., under your command, were to do the same," enquired the Boy languidly.
"Confound you sir, if it were you I'd have you shot," he shouted. Somehow the General seemed always to shout at the Boy.
"No, you wouldn't, General," said Sallie, giving the poor old boy a sidelong glance that temporarily threw him off his balance.
"And why, may I ask?"
"Because I should ask you to let him off."
"Then," said the General with decision, "I should deserve to be shot.
"An' is that Major alive now, sir?" queried188 Bindle.
"Who, Blaisby? Yes," replied the General; "but that's not his name. If I were to tell you who he is and what he is doing to-day, you'd understand the awful risk the country ran through the Commander-in-Chief of India giving commands to rabbits instead of soldiers."
"I'm glad he got through," said Sallie meditatively189.
"You can never keep a good man back," remarked the General in that modified tone of voice he always adopted when speaking to Sallie.
"Wot's 'e goin' to do if 'e's got various veins190 in 'is legs, I wonder?" I heard Bindle mutter as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe.
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descended
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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gathering
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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8
cyclone
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| n.旋风，龙卷风 | |
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disarming
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| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
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10
enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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12
melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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13
frightfulness
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| 可怕； 丑恶； 讨厌； 恐怖政策 | |
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14
corrosive
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| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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15
verbiage
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| n.冗词；冗长 | |
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16
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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17
gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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18
stockbrokers
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| n.股票经纪人( stockbroker的名词复数 ) | |
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19
chauffeurs
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| n.受雇于人的汽车司机( chauffeur的名词复数 ) | |
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20
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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21
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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22
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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23
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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24
disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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25
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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26
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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27
yarns
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| n.纱( yarn的名词复数 )；纱线；奇闻漫谈；旅行轶事 | |
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28
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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29
sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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30
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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31
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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32
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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33
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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34
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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35
friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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36
condemns
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的第三人称单数 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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37
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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38
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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39
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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40
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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41
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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42
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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43
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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44
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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45
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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46
sagely
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| adv. 贤能地，贤明地 | |
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47
scouting
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| 守候活动，童子军的活动 | |
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48
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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49
watchfulness
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| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
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50
insidiously
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| 潜在地，隐伏地，阴险地 | |
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51
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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52
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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53
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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54
dubbed
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| v.给…起绰号( dub的过去式和过去分词 )；把…称为；配音；复制 | |
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55
perimeter
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| n.周边，周长，周界 | |
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56
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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57
compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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58
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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59
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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60
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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61
maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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62
maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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63
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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64
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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65
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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66
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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67
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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68
vomited
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69
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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70
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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71
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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72
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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73
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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74
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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75
repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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76
repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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77
wane
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| n.衰微，亏缺，变弱；v.变小，亏缺，呈下弦 | |
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78
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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79
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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80
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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81
lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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82
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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83
fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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84
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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85
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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86
bragging
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的现在分词 )；大话 | |
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87
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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88
mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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89
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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90
remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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91
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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92
punitive
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| adj.惩罚的，刑罚的 | |
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93
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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94
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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95
risky
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| adj.有风险的，冒险的 | |
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96
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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97
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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98
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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99
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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100
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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101
fervid
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| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
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102
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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103
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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104
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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105
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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106
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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107
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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108
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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109
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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110
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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111
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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112
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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113
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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114
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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115
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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116
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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117
auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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118
syne
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| adv.自彼时至此时，曾经 | |
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119
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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120
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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121
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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122
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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123
entrenchment
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| n.壕沟，防御设施 | |
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124
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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125
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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126
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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127
entrenching
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| v.用壕沟围绕或保护…( entrench的现在分词 )；牢固地确立… | |
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128
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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129
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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130
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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131
attainments
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| 成就，造诣； 获得( attainment的名词复数 )； 达到； 造诣； 成就 | |
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132
arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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133
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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134
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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135
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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136
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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137
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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138
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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139
defenders
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| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
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140
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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141
repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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142
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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143
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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144
harangue
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| n.慷慨冗长的训话，言辞激烈的讲话 | |
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145
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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146
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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147
ridiculing
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的现在分词 ) | |
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148
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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149
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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150
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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151
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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152
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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153
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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154
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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155
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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156
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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157
evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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158
countermanded
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| v.取消（命令），撤回( countermand的过去分词 ) | |
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159
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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160
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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161
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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162
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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163
obtruded
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| v.强行向前，强行，强迫( obtrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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165
deplored
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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166
detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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167
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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168
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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169
pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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170
rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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171
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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172
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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173
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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174
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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175
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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176
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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177
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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178
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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179
deployed
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| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的过去式和过去分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
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180
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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181
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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182
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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183
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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184
countersign
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| v.副署，会签 | |
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185
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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186
placate
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| v.抚慰，平息(愤怒) | |
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187
mallet
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| n.槌棒 | |
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188
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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189
meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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190
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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