Amberry Parva certainly existed before SHAKSPEARE's time, but I doubt
if SHAKSPEARE ever saw it. For which he was so much the poorer, seeing
that Amberry is a faithful microcosm of much of England.
Thomas Fallow, Aaron West and George Hangar are all friends of mine.
Though still comparative youthful, they are the shining lights of the
Amberry Rural Council, self-trained to face a crisis or an emergency
with calm and steady bearing. When I came upon them last week they were
seated about the bench outside the door of "The Three Cups." A fourth
man--a small hairy stranger--was addressing them.
Thomas Fallow motioned me to halt.
"We're consultin'," he explained, "with Mr. Chittenden as keeps the
baccy-shop in Wream."
Now Wream is a shade--the merest shade--more important (in its own
esteem) than Amberry. It sits astride the same high road that the
Romans carved seawards a thousand-odd years ago, and supplies us with
newspapers, telegrams and gossip. While we score in the possession of
two tin chapels to their one, we writhe inwardly over a Diamond Jubilee
Fountain which we cannot hope to surpass.
"Mr. Chittenden," pursued Thomas, "brings noos."
"Good news?" I asked.
Mr. Chittenden, like the Eldest Oyster, shook his heavy head.
"I 'eard it from a natteralized German two days ago. It seems that
they're goin' to make a fresh dash with invisible Zeppelins. Once they
can _e_-vade the ships that's watchin'----"
He left the sentence unfinished.
"Consequence o' which," said George Hangar, "we've gone an' made
ourselves into an Informal Committee o' Defence, same as sits night an'
day in the War Office in London. An' the question before the meetin'
is, what's to be done if some fine day we wakes up to find a couple o'
thousand black 'elmets marchin' down the main road?"
"Ambush 'em," said Thomas Fallow definitely. "Told you so afore. Lie
be'ind the 'edges an' pick 'em off. My old rook-rifle'd roll 'em over
proper. Shoot straight an' keep on shootin'."
Aaron made a scornful noise in his throat.
"An' them as did get in the village'd punish us for them as didn't!
Burnin', killin' an' worse."
"Then outflank 'em," insisted Thomas doggedly. "Let 'em 'ave their fill
of advancin', same as old Joffer done, an' then ketch 'em in the side
an' discriminate 'em."
"You're not agoin' to do that with the men left in Amberry," said
Aaron. He was a market-gardener by trade. "'Twould be like a dozen
sparrers tryin' to outflank a steam-roller. Trenchin's the thing. Dig
deep, an' lay the soil loose 'long the far edge. There's a decent bit
o' shelter by Whemmick's Cottages."
"The best bein' opposite Number Five," added Fallow, whereat there was
a bellow of laughter, and Aaron flushed magnificently, for at Number
Five lives Molly Garner, wooed by Aaron, but as yet hesitating between
him and the Wream plumber.
George Hangar, who up to the present had scarcely spoken, intervened.
He has a bass voice, which on Sundays makes the little roof of the
United Bunyans quiver; for the other six days of the week he works at
a carpenter's bench in an open-fronted shed. He has a sound knowledge
of timber, and is no ignoramus concerning the values of Hepplewhite and
Sheraton.
"You're wrong," he roared. "Silly-minded an' wrong! This ain't the
Aisne. What do a village do when it's attacked? Answer me that."
No one answered; to say the wrong thing would exasperate him, to say
the right would exasperate him still more.
"They puts up barrycades," continued Hangar. "An' for why? 'Cause it's
only them that can hold off horse, foot an' 'tillery. Barrycades made
o' seasoned oak, same as I got stored at the back o' my shed, sunk a
good two feet, with bolted cross-pieces an' spurs, an' maybe a trifle
o' barbed wire in front."
"An' where's this contraption to be set up?" demanded Mr. Chittenden
with sudden suspicion.
"End o' village."
"Meanin' that the enemy may march through Wream, with nothin' to
stop 'em wreckin' the Fountain? An' this was to be a meetin' for the
consideration o' mutual defence!"
"The question afore the members," said Aaron hastily, "is, which place
'as most strategetical value? Thing is to stop 'em quick an' for good."
"An' where'll you beat a rook-rifle for doin' that?" demanded Thomas
Fallow. "If I'm willin' to take the risks----"
"'Tain't a question o' willingness, but tatties," said Mr. Chittenden,
still unappeased.
"Then put the case afore the sergeant as is stayin' at the
police-station," said George.
There was a moment's pause, then Aaron spoke.
"The motion is carried," he said, "an' the meetin' stands adjourned
_sinny die_."
* * * * *
I did not meet any of the members for several days afterwards; then
chance took me in the direction of George Hangar's workshop. I found
him engrossed in the unheard-of task of arranging and packing his tools.
"Well?" I asked.
He rasped his chin pensively with a chisel.
"Did the interview with the Sergeant take place?"
"Ay; the feller's more brains than the rest of us put together. Reckon
it's trainin'."
"What happened?"
"What 'appened? 'If you barrycades, entrenches, enfilades or outflanks
'em outside Amberry,' says 'e, 'the enemy'll wait for reinforcements,
an' then smash you with bigger guns. 'Twill be the same at Wream,
Bewchester, Lydhirst, Lower Thettley, an' Capper'am.'"
"Which brings us to the sea?"
"Ezzackly."
"Where it's the Fleet's job."
"'Twould seem so. But, as the Sergeant pointed out, the Germans is by
birth an' natur' land-fighters, an' must so be met, trained man to
trained man. Meaning Territorials."
"Then your plans came to nothing?"
"Only in a manner o' speakin', Sir. In fact, the resolution put
afore the meetin' would 'a' been carried _nem. con._ but for the
unsatisfactoriness o' Jacob Chittenden's chest-measurement. As it
is, 'e's eatin' b'iled bread an' practising three hours a day on the
horizontal-bar."