A PERILOUS EXPEDITION
Soon after this Sands singled me out as the victim to attend him on a
telephone-laying expedition. He warned me overnight, and I felt then a
strange unwillingness for the honour; and when the hour arrived, I had
not changed my mind. Somewhere about half-past three I was shaken from
sleep; and I jumped straight up and pulled on my clothes.
On the way from the dug-out I met Sands wandering round the cook-house
like an uneasy ghost. He seemed to be looking for something, and quite
ignored my existence for several minutes. But he shot a glance at me more
than once out of the corner of his eye, though he spoke no word and went
on with whatever he was doing.
At last he came to himself: he pushed hands into his pockets, and
started off into the dark. “Come along, Lake,” he said casually over his
shoulder. And he faded away. Those were the first words he spoke.
I hurried after him, loaded with a hand-reel. We picked a way through the
dug-outs down into the valley. Clear starlight was overhead; but it was
absolutely dark down there. I had no idea where we were going—no idea of
the direction, nor of how far—but this I soon discovered. We were moving
towards our right wing.
We took the communication trench which runs from our observing station,
and followed it to the end. It emptied us into the foot of the big
valley—the one leading to the trenches—but instead of turning up the
valley, Sands struck straight across. We passed the Indian camp on
our left hand: there was nothing to prove its existence, until the
mules began to stamp. Then we picked up a small path winding round the
bottom of the hill. I knew it at once; I had passed that way a day or
two before. Sands continued to push on a pace or two in advance; and
presently without turning his head or making any movement, he called
back: “Do you know where A Battery is, Lake?”
“Yes, sir, I was there two days ago.”
“Oh; it has moved since then.”
“Then I have no idea where it is.”
“Neither have I,” he said. And he sniggered.
“Are we going to A Battery?” I asked.
“Of course we’re going to A Battery. We have to lay a wire from
headquarters to their observing station.”
“Then why haven’t we brought a guide, sir?”
“What do we want a guide for? I was halfway there myself yesterday
evening. I have a good general idea where the place is. I was given
details last night. Come on, Lake, we mustn’t waste time. You can’t live
where we’re going after daybreak.” Those were his last words. I began to
have misgivings.
The walk soon worked away any drowsiness left in me, and I found myself
wishing we had been on a more peaceful errand and in a more charitable
land, for the night, or the morning rather, showed us countless wonders
along the way. It was warmer than I had yet known it at that hour, too
warm in fact for the hills we must scramble up; and the stars in rows
and rows looked down on us with their unreadable eyes. One might look
right into the heavens until one blinked and turned away, and one would
discover still more distant golden worlds watching and watching and
giving no sign.
The little winds which met us ran in and out of the bushes, flip-flapping
the smaller leaves and just stirring the larger; and the scents of the
few spring flowers, which had already opened their faces to the world,
floated down from somewhere or other with a strength and sweetness the
day never left them. The very pebbles seemed to scatter musically before
our feet.
The dew was heavy on the bushes, and splashed my forehead and my hands
with great cool drops. I caught at the leaves and rubbed my hands in
them, and so had a first wash for the day. The musketry rolled on, and
the lamps were a-winking in the bay, saying that on land and sea man was
abroad; and I heard no sounds nor caught a movement of beast or bird of
night. I looked and listened too. Yet doubtless many a keen pair of eyes
gleamed at us from the roots of the bushes; but man was passing, man
who had come in his hordes and had made the solitude unholy. The night
called with stars and dew and silence; but we pushed on to prepare fresh
destruction.
We came to a steep and narrow gully which turned at right angles from the
path. “This is the shortest way to the old position of A Battery, sir,” I
said.
“Well, lead the way, Lake.”
“But you said they had moved, sir.”
“Go on, Lake, lead the way; it will bring us somewhere near them. One way
is as good as another.”
He had no idea where the battery was! Good God!
I led the way. The path was quite easy for a hundred yards and even
farther; but afterwards it was necessary to clamber up some difficult
cliffs. The undertaking in the dark was going to be severe. I came to a
full stop and turned round.
“This is the way,” I said, and pointed up. Sands eyed it pensively.
“Is that the only way?”
“There is another longer but much easier road which sweeps round the
hill. Shall we take that?”
“Yes, we shall. Hurry up, Lake. It’s late already: the sun will soon be
up. We’ll be dead men if you waste time here much longer.”
His words sounded alarming; but he did not seem much worried at the
prospect.
Complete darkness favoured us still; but dawn would not long delay. I,
too, considered it was time to hurry. We were back again on the main path
in very few minutes, following it over the shoulder of a hill. The climb
was stiff and soon made us steady the pace. Wherever we went the country
was the same, covered with low bushes and destitute of a single tree of
any proportions. On the summit of the shoulder, the path turned to the
left and climbed up to the top of the hill. I went on along it, for it
led directly to the old position of A Battery. But Sands stopped, and I
noticed him peering down into the next valley. “No, this is the way,”
he said, all of a sudden. “I’m pretty certain the guns have been taken
somewhere over here.” Forthwith he started along a road which dipped
straight down, and looked to run directly for Gaba Tepeh.
There was a wide view of the ocean from here, and from the waters drifted
a salty breeze. It was a message that day was at hand. Whether Sands
discovered poetry in that scene or not I cannot say; but he stood still a
moment with his head on one side eyeing the shadowy waters. The reverie
lasted brief time. “It will be light quickly now, Lake,” he said. “If we
don’t find the guns, we shall probably be dead in half an hour.”
In his voice there was neither anxiety nor even interest; he made the
statement as one might remark the evening was excellent for a walk.
We said no more all the way down the slope. I knew now he had no idea
where we were, where we were going, nor what was to happen to us. And I
knew also that Gaba Tepeh was straight ahead. I saw us lost among the
wire entanglements, waiting to be sniped like crows when light should
come that way. A tender sadness crept into my heart. No more for me the
lambs would frolic, no more the jackass would laugh or the magpie jodel;
no more, with joyous bark, would the family hound meet me at my gate.
Such joys were for others. I dropped a silent tear.
A stiff hill rose directly ahead, and the world was vaguely grey with the
approach of dawn. Sands looked at this hill, looked hard at it, and once
or twice threw a glance at me from the tail of his eye. Finally he swore
feebly and started to climb it.
I do not know whether the road was old or not, it was wide and seemed
smooth enough; but the sappers may have made it. They seemed able to
throw up roads where they liked.
I went to the side of the way, and helped myself along by pulling at
the bushes. The last poetic feelings left me here, and in their place
came sentiments of utmost venom towards Sands. For his own part he said
nothing at all, but just breathed heavily, perspired and toiled on.
Some distance up, the road circled backward and lost some of its
steepness, and I could see that, though we never reached our goal, we
should find ourselves presently in the neighbourhood of home. I began to
take heart.
After we had gone some distance and the minutes had hurried by and the
landscape was taking form round us, the path crossed at right angles a
road, and to my astonishment the new track bore fresh gunmarks. Sands
gaped a moment, like myself in doubt, and too overcome for speech; but
not long was such a veteran nonplussed. He looked me calmly in the face
and said, easily, “I knew it was somewhere just about here, Lake. We
follow the road right up. A Battery will be somewhere on top of the
hill. We must hurry: the shrapnel will start any minute now.” He set
the example. What could I say to such luck? I bowed my head and meekly
followed.
We pursued the wheeltracks up the hill; but could not keep up the pace.
Farther on we ran into a camp—sappers, I think they were—and the guard
told us guns had passed by during the night. It was now twilight, and
the country was distinguishable. A hundred yards farther on we followed
the gun tracks off the main path; and then, round a corner, we came on
a gun and a waggon and a camp of artillerymen. A few men were up and
about; but many were rolled still in the blankets. The guard told us
the battery was not far away, and gave directions. In no time we were
among the communication trenches. They ran this way and that, so that
we were constantly asking the way. Sleeping men lay along the bottom of
the trenches, and it was hard to avoid them all; in truth, more than one
string of oaths followed our progress. Finally, we came on the battery
observing station, where was Major Felix with several men. I took a seat
on a stone in the background while Sands explained his errand. I do not
know what he said, but the major’s face failed to light up with welcome.
Presently Sands beckoned to me with a jerk of the head. “We are laying
the line to here,” he said, as we came up. “We have to find the drum now.
Jones and I brought it half-way up the valley last night.”
So we were only starting operations!
The battery was on top of a large flat hill, and the guns were not yet
properly dug in. Gangs of men were shovelling hard as we arrived, and
others were dragging behind them masses of bushes for covering the guns
from aircraft observation. Everyone worked at top speed; but even so, I
could see they would never get matters finished by daybreak. Sands began
to lead me over a stretch of waste country, the usual waste land in
fact—stunted bushes and coarse grasses, and here and there young flowers
springing up. Countless exploded Turkish shells lay among the grasses;
and in frequent places the turf was torn up by the heavy fire which swept
there from time to time. This must have been the place Sands had in his
mind when he prophesied our destruction at dawn. But morning had broken
quietly with the old roll of musketry and nothing more.
My gallant guide appeared to have lost his bearings again, for he kept no
direct course. Once we passed a dead infantryman among the grasses. The
body had been overlooked, and was fast decaying in the fierce suns, and
the morning air was tainted for yards around. I was glad to get by. Sands
looked long and hard at the unpleasant sight; but he made no comment.
Presently I found we had come to the head of the gully we started to
ascend earlier in the morning. “Here we are,” Sands said, coming to a
halt. “The drum is somewhere down there,” and he waved his hand about the
horizon. I looked down and realised the dance he had led me.
The country was difficult, but daylight helped us to find the best
tracks. We stood a minute or two planning the descent down the ravines,
and looking for the best passages through the tangled undergrowth.
Presently forward we went, slipping and sliding a great part of the way.
There were times even when progress was made by climbing down rather
than by walking. Well, on we went, sliding and slipping and scraping our
shins, and then, as suddenly as we had come upon the gun tracks, we came
across the drum. I was ready for Sands to say he knew it had been there
all the time; but he was occupied finding breath and made no remark. We
rested a little while with the fresh breezes moving about us. Daylight
had found a way into every recess; and one or two venturesome insects
were abroad already, and one or two birds were singing. Here and here, in
ones, twos, in threes, were the rude graves of fallen soldiers. A couple
of twigs bound to form a cross marked one, a piece of board with date and
initials a second, an upright rifle a third. Already the dwarf hollies
were closing round them: already the stunted laurels were bending over
them.
Then began the climb back. It had been difficult before, and the drum
nearly settled matters. However, on the way we found an easier if longer
track, and half up the hill the wire on the big drum ended, and we used
the hand-reel for the remainder of the distance.
It did not take so long then, though we stopped at all the tallest bushes
and tied the wire to them. A Battery observing station was deserted on
our arrival, and we fastened the wire to the ’phone and came away.
While we passed the open space on the hilltop for the third time, and as
I had just muttered thanks for the morning calm, there came a whizz and
a bang right overhead. A puff of smoke curled away in the high sky. The
shell had missed us by a few yards. Sands stopped, and I knew at once he
was going to say something worthy of himself.
“You know, Lake, I am very disappointed we came here. I wanted to see a
real battle. This is only a sniping expedition.”
I said not a word. Farther on he stopped to adjust the wire. He took it
in his hand and began bounding into the air in an attempt to throw it
over the top of a high shrub. I went up to him, but was waved off. “You
can go on, Lake, and get some breakfast. I shall follow in a minute or
two.”
I sauntered on, expecting him to overtake me very soon. A wall of cliff
rose in front, and just there the platform bent abruptly round it. I
strolled to the end of the path and turned the corner, and came in full
view of the ocean.
Last shadows had gone, nor did a star remain in the sky; and the
thousand pure lights of the young morning fell about the ocean in
cascades of silver and blue. All over the place small glad waves were
bobbing—wavelets of silver, wavelets of azure; and on the broad bosom of
those radiant seas rode the noblest fleet that ever had sailed that way.
Ships of war were there, and ships which had grown ancient in piping days
of peace: leviathan and cockleshell waiting alike the call of morning.
The sun still lay abed, yet the world of foliage between me on my hilltop
and the sea moved in a million shades of green as the breezes passed
among them. It was like a great green hymn of praise going up to God.
And scores of tiny smoke clouds climbed from the breakfast fires along
the beach, and at sea a hundred funnels were a-smoking too. Up they rose
in tones of blue, from blue they put on a coat of grey, and climbing on,
faded into the joyous morning lights.
Along the blue horizon was heaped a mountain of snowy clouds. So still
it lay, so purely white it shone, it seemed the barrier to an enchanted
land. I watched, and as I watched the sun rose up from bed and with his
foremost glances melted the virgin bank. To right, to left it rolled
apart, and lo! clad in the splendours of the dawn—came forth the
mountain isle of Imbros. I bowed my head as one who stands on holy ground.
Saffron and rose and purple and violet, and all the other shades of
nature’s magic paintbox, floated or trembled or rippled about those still
peaks. And film by film the virgin shroud about their feet lifted and
lost itself in the sheen of shimmering seas.
I bowed my head, and would have put my shoes from off my feet.
Sands’s step crunched among the rocks. I glanced round and found him
level with me. Straightway I forgave him the expedition. He had shown me
this.