i ended by waking up quite late in the morning—not only ended by waking up late, in fact, but even by forgetting the undertaking ahead of us. i discovered myself on my back, looking through the open hatchway at the sky, where a pleasant breeze found a way down, and drove off the musty odours of manure and pressed lucerne. for half a minute maybe i lay thus, thinking of nothing much, and hearing in a far-off way the shuffling of the horses. then of a sudden the business before us came into my brain like a thunderclap; and i read a fresh meaning into the scene. daylight had crept nearly over the sky, and the deck above was full of men come up for the morning wash, with towels about their necks and soap in their hands. instead of washing, all looked in one direction. the landing, of course.
up went my head, and i listened hard for the guns, but not a sound i caught. i did not wait long after that. in three minutes my toilet was finished, and up the ladder two rungs at a time[104] i went, to find myself on the hatch top and a big crowd of fellows all round me.
the first thing i noticed was the stiff breeze. the air was full of salt. i slid down from the uncertain perch into the crowd, and made a way to the rail. considering the breeze the sea moved very little, and the weather gave promise of becoming fine and clear. however, it was not light enough to see properly the horizon, and after a long look round i had distinguished nothing. i came across wilkinson and lancashire.
“can you see anything?” i said. “i can’t see a thing or hear a damned thing either.”
“no, there’s nothing doing yet,” they answered.
“i thought we were to pass the french about four o’clock?”
“we did pass them a long time ago, but too far out. they’re looking for the english landing now; but i heard a bloke say we wouldn’t pass it before breakfast.”
i went on to the troop deck after that, for a towel and soap. there were still a good many fellows rolled up in the hammocks or on the floor or the mess tables. any who were awake called out to know what was going on, and hearing nothing, settled down to another ten minutes. i had my wash and a hairbrush, and next went to the parade deck, and stayed leaning over the rails listening for the guns until the trumpeter blew “stables.”
for an hour we were in stables doing the usual[105] things; and i think affairs went less wearily. on the way to breakfast not a man did not linger to discover what might be seen or heard; but no sign or sound of battle did we obtain. the sea rolled away on every side, as it had done a score of mornings before; and now the horizon was quite clear, and proved void of battleships or any craft at all.
i forget what there was for breakfast. it was curry, i think. i know there was less of a scramble than usual, as a number of fellows stayed above hoping to see something, and others were excited and off their appetite. for my part i filled up well, not being overcertain of the next meal, and when i could tackle no more i went straight up on deck again.
all along the starboard side of the boat fellows were hanging over the rails: there was a great crowd of them, half the boat’s company at least. i edged a way in among them, asking what was doing. “can’t you hear the guns?” someone said. and nobody said anything else.
there was absolutely nothing to be seen, so i put my head on one side and listened. beyond the breathing and coughing of the others, the many noises of the vessel and the shifting of the seas, i distinguished nothing, certainly no sound of guns; and then all at once i picked it up, and afterwards never lost it. it was faint, faint, ever so far away, an endless, tireless grumbling or murmuring. i drank the sound rather than heard it. it was like a draught of thunder and champagne.
[106]
fresh fellows came up from breakfast, and pressed behind us. some would cry out and some say nothing, according to their nature; but, all considered, it was a sober gathering. aye, and there was reason, too. three hours, four hours on, and some of us would have started a journey where the echo of those guns might not follow.
i stayed on and on there, and nobody else seemed to go away. the while that firing grew more distinct, until it was no more a muttering, but had become a sullen, weariless booming, soaring up and down, a booming with the power to intoxicate the heart. i listened with soberness befitting a guest at one of death’s at homes; and yet i was ready to shout too, shout that i was coming, that soon i would be there.
we had kept a fair speed all the way; but now methought we slowed somewhat, as though it might be we were ahead of time. the other transports closed a fraction, and we drew up with two boats ahead, and thus, somewhat bunched, steamed towards the menacing horizon.
at last our watching was rewarded. out of the horizon drifted the battle.
there climbed into the sky what seemed a barren mountainous land, and where this country gathered in a headland of some prominence a number of boats lay out at sea. they were no more than dots upon the water. it was the fleet.
now the gunfire was distinct and threatening,[107] like—i don’t know what it was like, i can’t find words—but a grander and more awful sound i had not heard.
the battle came towards us, and we must have travelled faster than i believed, for very soon afterwards the fleet had taken shape, and next we saw the shells shatter in vast dust clouds on the heights. the solemn roll of the guns was no more. it had grown into a series of thunderous broken explosions. now the flashes showed, and now we could distinguish the battleships from the transports close in shore. now we found the water dotted over with mine-sweepers and tugs, and heaven knows what else besides! captive to one of these tugs, and well out to sea, hung high up a staring yellow balloon. they were “spotting” from it.
at first we had seemed to be steering directly for the centre of battle; but now it was evident we would pass far to the left hand. we were drawing into the medley of small craft whose duty was over, and now waited on the outskirts of the fray. farthest of all from danger was the big yellow balloon, and in time we came nearly under it, and i threw back my head and stared up, envying the man there with his telescopes.
for on deck one could really see very little. the land did not seem far off, and yet it must have been miles away, for one could make out nothing beyond the outline of the battleships, and the great shell-bursts on the ridges: no sign of men or targets, nothing of that sort. the[108] gunflashes, the smoke clouds, and the voices of the explosions were endless and very distinct, for now we were level with the point, and about as near as we should ever be. for some time our speed had lessened a good deal, but even so we made good headway, as very soon the battle had fallen behind, and we were drawing out of the crowded waters. the gunfire died into the old endless roll, and once again we were left listening and looking at one another.
the coast ran on and on along our starboard side, and all the way appeared the same mountainous barren land. the morning had turned out duller than it promised: there were patches of sunshine and patches of cloud, and a dullness along the horizon hinting at rain later on. i believe we slowed still more after this. we seemed only to drift forward. and then the trumpeter blew “stables.”
nobody showed readiness to go below and sweat among the horses; but before long we were jostling one another down the companion, and next starting at the old game of rolling out the mats and exercising. the hatches of the hold were open, for fellows were down below fusing shells, and loading up the waggons; and this cramped us for room more than ever, and added a risk into the bargain.
now as morning wore on, the rumble of guns came down to us once more, and started us listening anew. every minute brought the sounds with greater distinctness, until the even roll a second time broke into many separate explosions.[109] i should have liked to run up the ladder and find out what was going forward, but mr. gardiner stood at the bottom, and i resigned myself to follow on in the weary procession of men and horses.
three or four of our fellows were on deck, hauling up by rope the baskets of manure as we filled them. all of a sudden there was no reply to our tuggings and oaths, and at last a man went up to find out what was the matter. the messenger himself disappeared for three or four minutes, and then the whole party turned up suddenly to look over the hatch side and cry out that there was a bonza affair going on ahead. several men threw over what they were doing and sneaked away, and in a few minutes’ time mr. gardiner himself went off, leaving us alone. after that i decided to have a look on my own account. i had just put back my horse, and up the ladder i went and stepped on to deck.
there were a good many fellows about, all staring ahead. we were coming into another battle, only we were nearer into land this time, so that the vegetation could be made out; also there seemed more craft engaged or standing by, and the shell-bursts were splashing on the hills in the merriest manner. even now we were several miles removed from matters, and, looking over the side, one seemed almost at a standstill. i could not stay long, as mr. gardiner might reappear at any moment, so i dodged back again, and took out the next horse. but i need not have hurried. gardiner had not returned, and[110] most of the other fellows were gone. they straggled back one by one, talking with animation, and even laughing and calling out. we passed the news with sundry additions to the people sitting on the shells in the bowels of the ship; and before we had properly finished, mr. gardiner turned up again, and the slow machinery got into motion. for the next half-hour, next hour perhaps, the gunfire grew more distinct, until it was obvious the fight must be quite near at hand. in spite of—or perhaps because of—the general unrest of the staff, every horse received full share of exercise, and towards midday there were still half a dozen animals to take out. however, i decided i had done enough for the morning. i edged behind the feed-bin, and at first chance went up the gangway. what i saw there kept me watching.
we had drifted right into the battle. i suppose we were lying two or three miles off shore, though it looked no distance over the water. the land was quite distinct. the mountains seemed to run right down to the water’s edge, and were covered with vegetation—whether of size or not i could not tell—lying as closely as hairs sprout on a man’s head. several big valleys ran into and over those hills, as though inviting us to follow them along; but though the sun shone just now across the landscape, i was not particularly enamoured of it. no! an uncharitable land, said i.
as a matter of fact i had no time for the land at first; i could not leave the sea. the water[111] teemed with boats, it floated a noah’s ark of boats—two of every build. there were dreadnoughts and there were rowing boats, and there was everything else between. our place was rather at the back of affairs, among other transports and such non-fighting craft; but even round here was a waiting destroyer or two, stationary it might be but panting to be off, smoke wisps curling from the funnels, men at the posts on deck, and an officer at the bridge with glasses clapped to his eyes.
the armoured boats were at work singly, some lying miles off their targets: and at short and uneven intervals one or other would send out long spouts of flame from her turrets, half hide herself behind a roll of grey smoke, and then reappear. over the water followed a rumble or boom or bellow, according to size of gun or distance, and on the hilltops three or four funnels of dust would go up. some of the targets were over the ridges, beyond our sight altogether; but frequently shells fell this side upon the dull green crests. i warrant many a tragedy was happening over there; but all looked very calm and empty across the sliding waters. there seemed no order of firing: it was one boat here and one there. the explosions were not as continuous as earlier in the morning, and i wondered if the crisis of affairs were passed.
at first it seemed we were having all our own way; but in time i discovered the enemy answered back from somewhere right over the hills. while i watched, the sea received their efforts;[112] but in spite of this a feeling of uncertainty fluttered the spectator’s heart, for the shells i saw plunging into the sea were of the kind one would not stroll into twice. a destroyer but a few cable lengths away had a waterspout over her bows; and she did not wait for the turkish gunner to correct his range. our fellows were as eager as at a football final, and laughed at the misses and called out when a bull’s-eye was nearly scored. before long i was hemmed in by a pushing, hard-breathing company.
i went down to the horse deck again. gardiner was in his old place, and there was no difficulty in joining the crowd. the work was nearly over, men were putting back the last horses and mixing the feed. quite soon came the order, “turn out.”
things were still the same on deck. the weather had improved. the sun was bright and hot. i went on to the top deck, and found hawkins and one or two others there, and we sat on a hatch top and watched the battle. it was sunday; but instead of church bells, we listened to twelve-inch guns. one of the party who had glasses picked up a company of our infantry in the scrub on top of the hills. i thought probably he lied, for i saw nothing; but he spoke the truth, as presently on to a patch of open land came a number of puny figures, and ahead of them plumped our shells with gay precision. they crowded the open space in quick time, and next the scrub engulfed them. there was no sign of the enemy, who must have been retreating. the rest of[113] our watching showed us nothing, the scrub telling no tales.
the battleships continued to range on to the hilltops and beyond them in a fairly busy manner and the enemy continued to answer. once or twice the good ship hindoo seemed to be a target, and i warrant a good many of us were set wondering where the next shell would fall; but none came aboard. we went on yarning and watching and calculating until “cookhouse” went.
tank had spent the morning flagwagging on the bridge. he was idle as our meeting broke up, and sat on the boards dangling his legs and looking at the battle. i went up and gave him a “hallo.” he looked down.
“well, what do you think of things?” said i. he screwed up his mouth and shrugged his shoulders.
“yes, corporal,” i went on, half in earnest and half in fun, looking into his face, “to-night a tank or a lake may lie spreadeagled over there.”
he answered quite seriously in his funny, jerky manner, “i am not coming back. i saw it quite plainly a little while ago. we went over in a boat, a lot of us, and got to shore, and i was running up the beach, and was hit and fell back. i saw it as plain as anything.” he was so serious he made me grin.
“i’m sorry to hear the news, corporal,” i said. “you didn’t see me there by any chance?”
he looked at me in his sad way, and i could[114] not help feeling sorry for him. there was no reason for it. tank always over-ate and so had liver, and consequently got the blues. yet i was always a little sorry.
thinking of tank’s liver reminded me “cookhouse” had gone, and that i should go hungry unless i hurried. i went down to the mess deck, which hummed with life from end to end. some ate at top speed, stretching over the tables for what they wanted and shovelling it into them. others sat on the steam pipes round the room, putting together kits or cleaning rifles; and others yet hung out of portholes, and gave bulletins of the day.
i made a good dinner. the first boat left in a couple of hours, and this was the final meal on board. afterwards i dumped my kit in a corner, put the rifle with it, and went on deck again.
all day the boat had seemed fuller than usual, everywhere there were crowds and to spare. the troop deck had overflowed with men, and now up here one had to thread a way about. fellows still exclaimed and pointed whenever a shell dropped overnear; but on the whole the throng was quieter, though excited yet.
it was not long before mr. gardiner arrived and ordered those of the staff detailed for landing to get into marching order. i girt myself with waterbottle and haversack, and hung the iron rations at my belt. there were a dozen other things about me too, and when i had pulled an overcoat over my shoulder and had taken hold[115] of a rifle, i felt more ready for an armchair than an enemy to engage.
one or two of our fellows were on the parade deck ready for a final yarn, and i was not long pulling off my coat again and sitting down. we were not due to leave for two hours.
the crowding and bustling went on all the while, and the final hour came very fast. an empty barge was brought alongside and secured with hawsers, when it stayed to grate gently against us. a rope ladder was thrown over, and men went down and busied themselves making ready for the guns and limbers. there was more energy to-day than usual.
norris had come on to the scene overloaded like myself. he and i were for the same boat, the first one. on his back was a box affair with a red cross on the lid. he came up to me where i stood craning over the side, watching the lowering of the guns and waggons. he said something, i’ve forgotten what. nothing norris said was ever of importance. then someone whirled up to us and ordered us aboard the barge at once. i gathered all together, and with norris pushed through the crowd to the rope-ladder. there were more people than ever just here, for the guns were going over, and the barge bobbed up and down, making their lowering no go-as-you-please affair. orders and oaths were to be heard for the listening.
it was a good drop down to the barge—thirty foot, maybe—nor was the rope-ladder the easiest of stairways. with a prayer that norris would[116] not fall on my head, i pushed up to the side, climbed over the rails, and got hold of the ladder. i felt as nimble as a steamroller, and glanced uneasily on to the uncompromising objects below. the farther i went, the more the ladder swayed; but in the end things were managed, and i stowed myself into a corner of the barge. she was broad and stout, seeming very safe from shipwreck; but she lifted up and down on the choppy sea like a playful elephant.
the loading was over. three or four perspiring men knelt among the gun wheels making final lashings, and later one by one straightened their backs and went up the ladder.
the other fellows on the staff had gone down to stables, and now and then someone would poke a head through the portholes to see how matters went. witty remarks passed between us, and i was making my best retort when the colonel and adjutant showed above, and came climbing down the ladder. they made room for themselves beside me, and the only man now missing was the doctor. we had “a” battery guns aboard, and “a” battery fellows with them, of course.
there had been plenty of sunshine through the day; but the weather still looked uncertain. the sky was high up and blue and clear, and heavy white and grey clouds chased across it. little gusts of wind got up of a sudden and passed with as slender warning. i hoped hard the evening would prove charitable. i had small fancy for a wet skin.
[117]
we waited only for the doctor, and just now a naval launch steamed out of nowhere towards us. in charge was a junior lieutenant, who ran it alongside and called out in high-pitched tones to know if we were ready. he was a big fellow, young and fat, and very much at his ease. no doubt he had run the gauntlet of the shore several times already. he wore his second or third best clothes, and they and his broad back gave him something of a church-going look. his manner was very mild.
the launch cast aboard us a hawser, and we fastened ourselves to her ——, i have no nautical terms.
“are you ready, sir?” called the heavy lieutenant.
“no,” the colonel cried back. “the doctor’s not here! where’s doc?” he exclaimed impatiently to himself. “what’s the matter with the fellow?”
just then the doctor showed up above, and the colonel, who had cast a hundred glances that way during the last five minutes, shouted out, “hurry up, doc, hurry up, man! we’re just off! you’re late, man! you’re late!”
the doctor came down the ladder as fast as he could, and half a dozen hands steadied him for the final drop. he was just aboard as the naval officer called out again, “if you’re ready, sir, cast off from the ship, please!” we threw overboard our ropes; and the launch, which had chug-chugged fussily alongside, moved up ahead of us, strained on our hawser, and took us in tow. now[118] we were moving gently through the waters, and the great hull of the ship towered above, and the fellows in hundreds hung over the side and sent after us their best luck. woods’s black head looked through a porthole and gave me a couple of short nods, and i felt he envied me my seat. then we were free from the ship and speeding briskly along. the sea was clearing of craft, and we turned towards the emptier ways. next we had swung in our course and were steering towards the hills.
now, as we passed into clearer waters, and the choppy waves splashed our sides, sending the clumsy barge bumping up and down, i drank a further draught of life’s champagne. the officers and fellows sat quietly in their places, all looking to the land which was growing into shape. no doubt i sat as quiet as any, no doubt my own eyes seldom left the land; but the moment i had often thought of was come, and i found myself ready for it.
forward we went towards the frowning anchorage, at the pace of a pleasure boat making for a picnic ground. ten minutes, five minutes, and we should meet their rifle fire. aye, there we sat in the horse barge, as still as still could be, some shielded by the guns and waggons, some bent forward and very solemn, but all, i warrant, thankful the hour had struck. in the launch a cable’s length away every man was behind armour. the officer looked through a hole before him, and turned from time to time to the man at the spitting engine, or in spare moments examined the[119] shape of his boots. the man at the engine was frowning and looking at the land.
we throbbed over the choppy waters, and the hills marched towards us, showing themselves full of ragged gulleys bristling with stunted scrub. not a soldier moved among them, not a puff of smoke came out; but there was a roar of guns behind us, and there was a far-off bubbling sound ahead. i did not know what it meant then, i gave it small attention; but i was to learn its meaning well enough. forward we went, and the band of waters narrowed, and a strip of sandy shore came out below the hills. then high overhead passed a thin, singing sound, and the first bullet flicked the water yards away. we were within rifle range. “get under cover, everyone!” somebody called out, and all who could dived down among the waggons. a second bullet went by and a third; but they passed high over, or to the right or left. but the sound was new and set me thinking.
we neared shore quickly now—half a mile of water was all that intervened. the beach was plainly to be seen as a narrow sandy stretch running as far as you like to right and left. and then i was surprised to find the whole flat crowded with people; and in places were stacks of stores in building, and straight before us was a wireless plant fully rigged. they were losing no time! and—jove, yes!—there were sappers driving roads; and—jove!—there was a mule battery passing from view.
as we bumped along, the one or two bullets[120] that passed our way, and an odd dose of shrapnel falling generally afar off, were all the attention the enemy gave us; but nearing the land, matters warmed up. steady doses of shrapnel were coming over the hills. they were meant for the beach, no doubt; but the angle of descent was tricky, and nearly all overshot the mark and hissed into the water. to hear the clap overhead and the rush of bullets on to the waves made one start measuring the distance to the friendly cliffs. i was down between a waggon wheel and the barge’s side, and, despite an uneasy feeling at heart, i must poke up my head from time to time to watch the widening shore and mark where the last shower of bullets had torn the waters.
now we were close at hand, and every man rose on a knee, waiting the order to jump ashore. “i’m leaving you now, sir,” came the lieutenant’s high voice. “they’ll land you from shore, sir!” the launch slowed up, cast us off and backed out to sea, and on we passed under our own way. “hey, there,” the lieutenant shouted, “get this barge ashore!” and that was the last i saw of the launch, for, if she were brave, she was prudent, and i heard her chug-chug for safer waters.
a party of men ran across the beach, caught our ropes and threw themselves with a will to hauling us ashore. the beach shelved slowly into the water, so that we scraped on the pebbles some way out. there was overmuch shrapnel for happiness, and though we had passed the[121] warmest zone, it looked yet more restful across the beach. “that’s as far as she’ll come!” someone on the rope was calling out. “lower the front board! the beach is hard enough: you must run the guns from where you are!”
our fellows were already at the chains holding up the front of the barge, and now the board went down with a splash, and the gunners fell to rolling out the first gun. i jumped on to the side of the barge, and worked forward as fast as i might. the colonel and adjutant were scrambling ashore, and in the crowd there was a good chance of losing them. the sergeant-major stood in the water ordering the handling of the gun; and just then the gun ran into the water and into the sergeant-major too. down he went on his back, and i thought that was the end of him. but there was no time for looking, the colonel had vanished into the crowd. through the water i went, splashed on to the beach, and chased him over the shifting shingle. not far off i caught him, talking to colonel irons, who was already on the scene. he was frowning and answering in an impatient way. i held him in the tail of my eye, and looked round. i was jumpy, for the beach was quite without cover; and who knew when a shell would burst at the proper angle and come tearing over in our direction?
men moved about me with haste and purpose; and the loudest noise was the buzzing of the wireless plant, which spelt its messages at racing speed, nor stopped a moment.
then my eye fell on the first dead man. he[122] lay on his back where the waves moved up and down across the sand, so that part of him was soaking wet and part quite dry. his fingers were stiff and spread out, and his flesh was a dirty patchy colour, and his mouth smiled a vacant smile. yet doubtless somewhere at home a wife or mother prayed for his safekeeping. “so be it,” said i, “so be it,” and i looked another way.
there seemed no special regiments down here: men of all corps moved about, and officers were as frequent as privates. nobody shot at anything, none flourished swords, there was not an enemy to be discovered. the place was more like the general room of a large bank or public office, where everyone is going somewhere, and nobody goes anywhere.
already the army had left enduring marks. two newly shovelled roads started off into the interior; a giant stack of provisions was growing a few yards from the waterline, and barges dumped quantities of small-arms ammunition on the sand. on the side of the hills many a man dug at his first funk-hole.
the anchorage was not a whit less busy than the beach. infantry reinforcements came in steadily, ammunition barges and provision boats approached or lay at anchor close in shore. pinnaces and rowing boats dodged round and round one another. i had forgotten to tell of something else—about a red cross flag, opening and closing in the busy breezes, lay many a line of stretchers with their mangled loads; and, while[123] the orderlies were yet busy at the bandages, fresh cases arrived.
the talk of irons and the colonel came quite suddenly to an end, and jackson turned round and strode over in my direction. i could see he was annoyed. he made me no sign, but went past me towards our barge, and very soon we had run into the adjutant waiting there. “the guns must go back!” the colonel began abruptly, and that was about all i heard; but he and yards talked on for half a minute or more maybe, he vigorous and impatient, like a man much put out, and yards quiet as always, lifting his eyebrows and pursing his mouth now and again. later on i was told we were then retreating fast, and birdwood believed the position must be given up at night. this may be the truth or not: there were many liars on that beach. presently yards went off to the barge. “you may stay, lake,” the colonel said, and with that he started over the pebbles in the direction we had first taken.
in certain places there were quite as many sailors as soldiers, for the navy was in charge of the landing. these sailors were in khaki dress; and, although maybe they were a scratch lot, they knew their work well.
beside a stock of ammunition were two little midshipmen or naval cadets, two bantam cocks, guarding it, no doubt. they were no age at all, so that they must have been at trouble to get there, but either was protected by a weighty revolver at belt. this way and that way they[124] bobbed like sparrows on a twig, and every time a shell clapped overhead they eyed each other and giggled and dived for shelter. and next instant out they bobbed again. they were jolly little fellows. one day, if nothing happens, they shall tell mighty stories to a beaming family while filling up on plum cake.
round about here wandered an elderly admiral in blue coat and white trousers. he was a tough customer, a sort of “one of the bulldog breed.” he seemed able to abuse everybody, soldiers besides sailors. there was ever a heartier pull on a rope when his eye went searching that way.
i lacked time to notice much, for what with the crowd, the shingly beach, and my weight of equipment, i was hard put to it to keep the colonel in sight. he went over the beach in long strides, as if out of temper with the whole affair.
we came to a place where a deep ravine ran into the hills. in winter the bottom of the ravine was probably a watercourse, but spring found it quite dry. the banks, densely covered with scrub, were steep and came close together, especially as one progressed, so that there was shelter from the shrapnel here. the headquarters of several units had found this out and taken refuge.
we went along the gully, which kept a straight course and mounted all the way. we went by several natural dug-outs all occupied, and presently came on divisional artillery. all the fellows were there, crowding as close to the right bank as possible. constantly the shrapnel clapped over[125] our heads and swept into the bushes near by; but we were fairly secure, especially when sitting down. i don’t know where the shells came from, but they were able to find the way.
divisional artillery had reserved two funk-holes, one just above the other. in a wet season the mountain torrent surged round here. the funk-holes had been improved with digging, and the officers had the top one, and we men the other. a colonel and adjutant of the indian mountain batteries also shared the place. in a few moments my colonel left and went back to the beach; but he told me to stay where i was. the afternoon was getting on, and it had come over cloudy, and a drizzle of rain set in. the place at once turned very melancholy. the officers put on their coats and talked among themselves in a cheerless way, and one went to sleep. the fellows by me were no better off. they had come over in the morning and were full of rumours, but had no sure news to give. we had captured countless guns, we had driven the turks across the peninsula, the affair seemed about over. but one thing was certain—that all day endless wounded had arrived from the firing line.
i unrolled my coat and put it on. the drizzle continued, but came to nothing more, though shadows of late afternoon presently wandered along. the leaves grew heavy with moisture and started to drip on to the ground, and the dusty watercourse looked like turning to a treacherous camping-ground. for safety’s sake we sat close against the bank, and the drip of the leaves[126] had a tricky way of creeping under the collar of a coat.
we huddled together and spoke little, and i wished well the colonel would return and take me after him again. then the drizzle cleared up, and the sun came out in a watery fashion, and we had a tea or supper of the little biscuits given as rations. three days’ provisions hung about me, but warning had been given they might be forced to last five, and i was chary of dipping deeply into the bag. someone offered me the bottom of a can of tea, and i washed the crumbs away with it.
the guns at sea had shut their mouths; but there was an endless bubbling noise all about us, and not very far off either. it was the roll of musketry. the enemy never tired of shelling the beach, and time after time shells came tearing over our way. they would have found it difficult to touch us where we were. it was rifle bullets that kept us against the wall.
it was said the place was peopled with snipers, which was possible enough, for the close, crooked bushes might have concealed a battalion of them. one could find comfort knowing they were little better off than we, for if they were hid, also they could not see to shoot. yet to look over this ocean of bushes with its lurking army left a sense of uneasiness.
the indian colonel sat down on a rock, and a native orderly took off his boots, and gently and at much length massaged his feet. he appeared to have had a hard day of it, and his face was[127] yellow and seamed, while he sipped a pot of tea. and then our colonel turned up and drank himself, and fell to talking earnestly with irons. i tried to read their faces, but ended up as wise as i began.
“lake,” the colonel called out, and i went over gladly enough. the adjutant was getting ready to go away, and i was signed briefly to follow him. we picked our road down the watercourse and, wherever it widened at all or a bit of extra shelter was offered by the banks, we came on groups of officers and men, and were forced to step with care. in one or two cases a slender meal progressed; but more often two or three men pored over a map, or talked in low tones, or sat back in a gloomy contemplation. we were not long gaining the open beach. after his fashion yards had said not a word; but he paused just here and looked about him for a few moments, and next we turned to the left hand, hanging as near to the base of the hills as we could.
the sun was setting, and streams of angry yellow light filled the western part of the sky. it was day still, in fact hardly twilight; but very soon evening would be come. the battleships had given up the bombardment; but nowhere else was there sign of night or sleep. countless craft were yet busy at sea, over which came forward an evening haze. and the beach was full of men.
we were on solid ground, as the pebbles scarcely reached to here: we passed our original landing-place, and went on until another ravine in the hills opened before us. where now we stood[128] the sappers had driven the beginnings of a road, and farther on they cut steps up another steep pinch. it happened the enemy shrapnel was coming over very briskly, but all of it burst rather higher up. we stood a little while as we had done at the last gully mouth. yards looked up and down the hill as if comparing it with directions given him, and then we went up this gully and very soon were ascending a sharp rise. at the summit, which was no great distance, we went round a bit of a shoulder on the hill, and all at once were right on top of an a battery gun in action. so a gun was ashore after all! we bent down—all cover was behind us—and went across to the gun in lively fashion, and sat down a little to one side of it. there was no cover for anybody, and the shrapnel arrived so fast and so near that i found myself pretty jumpy again, to speak the truth. yet it would have needed a handsome cheque to buy my seat. we were in a sort of cup between two small hills, and heaven knows what was our target! i sat while they fired the last four shells, which were put in in a lively manner. the climax of the sunset had arrived, all one portion of the sky was angry yellow and red, and the remainder full of sullen moving clouds, which made the evening cheerless and unwanted. day had not gone yet; there remained enough light to see some distance with ease, so that one could pick out the faces of the gunners and mark all they did.
either we had made ourselves unpopular and the enemy searched for us, or else the spot was[129] naturally unhealthy, for the turkish shrapnel came tearing over this way in the most unpleasant manner, and often three or four puffs of smoke sailed over us at one moment. the shells burst a trifle to our right against the fiery sunset; but those moments were none too certain. major felix stood by the trail in the easiest manner, altering the corrector, and then, as fast as i have told it, the last shot was fired, the men left off their work, and the major turned round. almost at once the enemy ceased fire, and the sunset was left to fade and the darkness to come on undisturbed by us.
the major came over, and yards got up. i heard a little of what was said, and gathered we had engaged an enemy gun, and felix believed he had silenced it. they stayed talking for a little time. i forgot them in the business of watching the sky and the sea and the land dissolve into shadows, and hearkening to the fierce roll of musketry, now very near at hand. then yards came over my way and said something in passing in a low tone, and i rose and followed him down towards the beach.
it was quite dark in the first gully when we got back. the sky had clouded right over again so that very few stars showed, and the drizzle of rain had recommenced in drifts which passed and came. our camp was cramped and rough and damp; but there was no doubt it was the safest spot anywhere about. the adjutant went on to the higher place, and sat down with the officers. several men were turning in for the night, that[130] is, lying down as they were with boots off, on a bed of a blanket and an overcoat. this left us more pressed for room than ever, as nobody was willing to leave the immediate shelter of the bank. coming last, i had last place, which seemed nowhere at all in a first look round in the dark. but later i found a space a yard or two lower down the watercourse. it was a stony bed and rather exposed; but i picked out the worst stones and rolled as close under the bank as possible. they were shelling us again, but at uncertain intervals, and not much of their energy was directed this way. but the shells which came over here burst with a blinding red flash, as in a picture from a story book.
in spite of the musketry roll and shell fire, the night managed to retain something of solitude and stillness. i took my boots off, made the regulation bed of a blanket and overcoat, and huddled myself up in it. the night was not cold, and we were well screened from wind; but the depressing drizzle managed to find a way everywhere. on occasion a patch of stars stared down from overhead, but hid themselves very quickly, and i found myself looking for their coming and going in a dazed sort of way. i had done no heavy work, but i was glad enough to be lying down. i was sleepy in no time. rifle bullets struck into the bank frequently, though none of them very low; but the bushes moved at intervals, whether from the wind or from gathering raindrops i do not know; but often i could have vowed to moving bodies there—be it sniper or imagination,[131] it made one wake up and listen. truly i have slept in more secure bedrooms than that one.
the weather was clearing somewhat, the stars stayed out longer, and larger patches of sky uncovered. those were the last things i remembered.
