Fear comes and goes, but a man's love lives with him.--EASTERN PROVERB.
Stamboul was disillusionment--a city of rain and plagues and stinks!
The food in barracks was maggoty. We breathed foul air and yearned
for the streets; yet, once in the streets, we yearned to be back in
barracks. Aye, sahib, we saw more in one day of the streets than we
thought good for us, none yet understanding the breadth of Ranjoor
Singh's wakefulness. He seemed to us like a man asleep in good
opinion of himself--that being doubtless the opinion he wished the
German officers to have of him.
Part of the German plan became evident at once, for, noticing our
great enthusiasm at the prospect of being sent to Gallipoli,
Tugendheim, in the hope of winning praise, told a German officer we
ought to be paraded through the streets as evidence that Indian
troops really were fighting with the Central Powers. The German
officer agreed instantly, Tugendheim making faces thus and brushing
his mustache more fiercely upward.
So the very first morning after our arrival we were paraded early
and sent out with a negro band, to tramp back and forth through the
streets until nearly too weary to desire life. Ranjoor Singh marched
at our head looking perfectly contented, for which the men all hated
him, and beside him went a Turk who knew English and who told him
the names of streets and places.
It did not escape my observation that Ranjoor Singh was interested
more than a little in the waterfront. But we all tramped like dumb
men, splashed to the waist with street dirt, aware we were being
used to make a mental impression on the Turks, but afraid to refuse
obedience lest we be not sent to Gallipoli after all. One thought
obsessed every single man but me: To get to Gallipoli, and escape to
the British trenches during some dark night, or perish in the
effort.
As for me, I kept open mind and watched. It is the non-commissioned
officer's affair to herd the men for his officer to lead. To have
argued with them or have suggested alternative possibilities would
have been only to enrage them and make them deaf to wise counsels
when the proper time should come. And, besides, I knew no more what
Ranjoor Singh had in mind than a dead man knows of the weather. We
marched through the streets, and marched, stared at silently,
neither cheered nor mocked by the inhabitants; and Ranjoor Singh
arrived at his own conclusions. Five several times during that one
day he halted us in the mud at a certain place along the water-front,
although there was a better place near by; and while we
rested he asked peculiar questions, and the Turk boasted to him,
explaining many things.
We were exhausted when it fell dark and we climbed up the hill again
to barracks. Yet as we entered the barrack gate I heard Ranjoor
Singh tell a German officer in English that we had all greatly
enjoyed our view of the city and the exercise. I repeated what I had
heard while the men were at supper, and they began to wonder
greatly.
"Such a lie!" said they.
"That surely was a lie?" I asked, and they answered that the man who
truly had enjoyed such tramping to and fro was no soldier but a
mud-fish.
"Then, if he lies to them," I said, "perhaps he tells us the truth
after all."
They howled at me, calling me a man without understanding. Yet when
I went away I left them thinking, each man for himself, and that was
good. I went to change the guard, for some of our men were put on
sentry-go that night outside the officers' quarters, in spite of our
utter weariness. We were smarter than the Kurds, and German officers
like smartness.
Weary though Ranjoor Singh must have been, he sat late with the
German officers, for the most part keeping silence while they
talked. I made excuse to go and speak with him half a dozen times,
and the last time I could hardly find him among the wreaths of
cigarette smoke.
"Sahib, must we really stay a week in this hole?" I asked. "So say
the Germans," said he.
"Are we to be paraded through the streets each day?" I asked.
"I understand that to be the plan," he answered.
"Then the men will mutiny!" said I.
"Nay!" said he, "let them seek better cause than that!"
"Shall I tell them so?" said I, and he looked into my eyes through
the smoke as if he would read down into my very heart.
"Aye!" said he at last. "You may tell them so!"
So I went and shook some of the men awake and told them, and when
they had done being angry they laughed at me. Then those awoke the
others, and soon they all had the message. On the whole, it
bewildered them, even as it did me, so that few dared offer an
opinion and each began thinking for himself again. By morning they
were in a mood to await developments. They were even willing to
tramp the streets; but Ranjoor Singh procured us a day's rest. He
himself spent most of the day with the German officers, poring over
maps and talking. I went to speak with him as often as I could
invent excuse, and I became familiar with the word Wassmuss that
they used very frequently. I heard the word so many times that I
could not forget it if I tried.
The next day Ranjoor Singh had a surprise for us. At ten in the
morning we were all lined up in the rain and given a full month's
pay. It was almost midday when the last man had received his money,
and when we were dismissed and the men filed in to dinner Ranjoor
Singh bade me go among them and ask whether they did not wish
opportunity to spend their money.
So I went and asked the question. Only a few said yes. Many
preferred to keep their money against contingencies, and some
thought the question was a trick and refused to answer it at all. I
returned to Ranjoor Singh and told him what they answered.
"Go and ask them again!" said he.
So I went among them again as they lay on the cots after dinner, and
most of them jeered at me for my pains. I went and found Ranjoor
Singh in the officers' mess and told him.
"Ask them once more!" said he.
This third time, being in no mood to endure mockery, I put the
question with an air of mystery. They asked what the hidden meaning
might be, but I shook my head and repeated the question with a
smile, as if I knew indeed but would not tell.
"Says Ranjoor Singh," said I, "would the men like opportunity to
spend their money?"
"No!" said most of them, and Gooja Singh asked how long it well
might be before we should see money again.
"Shall I bear him, a third time, such an answer?" I asked, looking
more mysterious than ever. And just then it happened that Gooja
Singh remembered the advice to seek better cause for mutiny. He
drummed on his teeth with his fingernails.
"Very well!" said he. "Tell him we will either spend our money or
let blood! Let us see what he says to that!"
"Shall I say," said I, "that Gooja Singh says so?"
"Nay, nay!" said he, growing anxious. "Let that be the regiment's
answer. Name no names!"
I thought it a foolish answer, given by a fool, but the men were in
the mood to relish it and began to laugh exceedingly.
"Shall I take that answer?" said I, and they answered "Yes!"
redoubling their emphasis when I objected. "The Germans do Ranjoor
Singh's thinking for him these days," said one man; "take that
answer and let us see what the Germans have to say to it through his
mouth!"
So I went and told Ranjoor Singh, whispering to him in a corner of
the officers' mess. Some Turks had joined the Germans and most of
them were bending over maps that a German officer had spread upon a
table in their midst; he was lecturing while the others listened.
Ranjoor Singh had been listening, too, but he backed into a corner
as I entered, and all the while I was whispering to him I kept
hearing the word Wassmuss--Wassmuss--Wassmuss. The German who was
lecturing explained something about this Wassmuss.
"What is Wassmuss?" I asked, when I had given Ranjoor Singh the
men's answer. He smiled into my eyes.
"Wassmuss is the key to the door," said he.
"To which door?" I asked him.
"There is only one," he answered.
"Shall I tell that to the men?" said I.
At that he began scowling at me, stroking his beard with one hand.
Then he stepped back and forth a time or two. And when he saw with
the corner of his eye that he had the senior German officer's
attention he turned on me and glared again. There was sudden silence
in the room, and I stood at attention, striving to look like a man
of wood.
"It is as I said," said he in English. "It was most unwise to pay
them. Now the ruffians demand liberty to go and spend--and that
means license! They have been prisoners of war in close confinement
too long. You should have sent them to Gallipoli before they tasted
money or anything else but work! Who shall control such men now!"
The German officer stroked his chin, eying Ranjoor Singh sternly,
yet I thought irresolutely.
"If they would be safer on board a steamer, that can be managed. A
steamer came in to-day, that would do," said he, speaking in
English, perhaps lest the Turks understand. "And there is
Tugendheim, of course. Tugendheim could keep watch on board."
I think he had more to say, but at that minute Ranjoor Singh chose
to turn on me fiercely and order me out of the room.
"Tell them what you have heard!" he said in Punjabi, as if he were
biting my head off, and I expect the German officer believed he had
cursed me. I saluted and ran, and one of the Turkish officers aimed
a kick at me as I passed. It was by the favor of God that the kick
missed, for had he touched me I would have torn his throat out, and
then doubtless I should not have been here to tell what Ranjoor
Singh did. To this day I do not know whether he had every move
planned out in his mind, or whether part was thinking and part good
fortune. When a good man sets himself to thinking, God puts thoughts
into his heart that others can not overcome, and it may be that he
simply prayed. I know not--although I know he prayed often, as a
true Sikh should.
I told the men exactly what had passed, except that I did not say
Ranjoor Singh had bidden me do so. I gave them to understand that I
was revealing a secret, and that gave them greater confidence in my
loyalty to them. It was important they should not suspect me of
allegiance to Ranjoor Singh.
"It is good!" said they all, after a lot of talking and very little
thought. "To be sent on board a steamer could only mean Gallipoli.
There we will make great show of ferocity and bravery, so that they
will send us to the foremost trenches. It should be easy to steal
across by night to the British trenches, dragging Ranjoor Singh with
us, and when we are among friends again let him give what account of
himself he may! What new shame is this, to tell the Germans we will
make trouble because we have a little money at last! Let the shame
return to roost on him!"
They began to make ready there and then, and while they packed the
knapsacks I urged them to shout and laugh as if growing mutinous.
Soldiers, unless prevented, load themselves like pack animals with a
hundred unnecessary things, but none of us had more than the full
kit for each man that the Germans had served out, so that packing
took no time at all. An hour after we were ready came Ranjoor Singh,
standing in the door of our quarters with that senior German officer
beside him, both of them scowling at us, and the German making more
than a little show of possessing a repeating pistol. So that Gooja
Singh made great to-do about military compliments, rebuking several
troopers in loud tones for not standing quickly to attention, and
shouting to me to be more strict. I let him have his say.
Angrily as a gathering thunder-storm Ranjoor Singh ordered us to
fall in, and we scrambled out through the doorway like a pack of
hunting hounds released. No word was spoken to us by way of
explanation, Ranjoor Singh continuing to scowl with folded arms
while the German officer went back to look the quarters over,
perhaps to see whether we had done damage, or perhaps to make
certain nothing had been left. He came out in a minute or two and
then we were marched out of the barrack in the dimming light, with
Tugendheim in full marching order falling into step behind us and
the senior German officer smoking a cigar beside Ranjoor Singh. A
Kurdish soldier carried Tugendheim's bag of belongings, and
Tugendheim kicked him savagely when he dropped it in a pool of mud.
I thought the Kurd would knife him, but he refrained.
I think I have said, sahib, that the weather was vile. We were glad
of our overcoats. As we marched along the winding road downhill we
kept catching glimpses of the water-front through driving rain,
light after light appearing as the twilight gathered. Nobody noticed
us. There seemed to be no one in the streets, and small wonder!
Before we were half-way down toward the water there began to be a
very great noise of firing, of big and little cannon and rifles.
There began to be shouting, and men ran back and forth below us. I
asked Tugendheim what it all might mean, and he said probably a
British submarine had shown itself. I whispered that to the nearest
men and they passed the word along. Great contentment grew among us,
none caring after that for rain and mud. That was the nearest we had
been to friends in oh how many months--if it truly were a British
submarine!
We reached the water-front presently and were brought to a halt in
exactly the place where Ranjoor Singh had halted us those five times
on the day we tramped the streets. We faced a dock that had been
vacant two days ago, but where now a little steamer lay moored with
ropes, smoke coming from its funnel. There was no other sign of
life, but when the German officer shouted about a dozen times the
Turkish captain came ashore, wrapped in a great shawl, and spoke to
him.
While they two spoke I asked Ranjoor Singh whether that truly had
been a British submarine, and he nodded; but he was not able to tell
me whether or not it had been hit by gun-fire. Some of the men
overheard, and although we all knew that our course to Gallipoli
would be the more hazardous in that event we all prayed that the
artillery might have missed. Fear comes and goes, but a man's love
lives in him.
When the Turkish captain and the German officer finished speaking,
the Turk went back to his steamer without any apparent pleasure, and
we were marched up the gangway after him. It was pitch-dark by that
time and the only light was that of a lantern by which the German
officer stood, eying us one by one as we passed. Tugendheim came
last, and he talked with Tugendheim for several minutes. Then he
went away, but presently returned with, I should say, half a company
of Kurdish soldiers, whom he posted all about the dock. Then he
departed finally, with a wave of his cigar, as much as to say that
sheet of the ledger had been balanced.
It was a miserable steamer, sahib. We stood about on iron decks and
grew hungry. There were no awnings--nothing but the superstructure
of the bridge, and, although there were but two-hundred-and-thirty-four
of us, including Tugendheim, we could not stow ourselves so
that all could be sheltered from the rain and let the mud cake dry
on our legs and feet. There was a little cabin that Tugendheim took
for himself, but Ranjoor Singh remained with us on deck. He stood in
the rain by the gangway, looking first at one thing, then at
another. I watched him.
Presently he went to the door of the engine-room, opened it, and
looked through. I was about to look, too, but he shut it in my face.
"It is enough that they make steam?" said he; and I looked up at the
funnel and saw steam mingled with the smoke. In a little wheel-house
on the bridge the Turkish captain sat on a shelf, wrapped in his
shawl, smoking a great pipe, and his mate, who was also a Turk, sat
beside him staring at the sky. I asked Ranjoor Singh whether we
might expect to have the whole ship to ourselves. Said I, "It would
not be difficult to overpower those two Turks and their small crew
and make them do our bidding!" But he answered that a regiment of
Kurds was expected to keep us company at dawn. Then he went up to
the bridge to have word with the Turkish captain, and I went to the
ship's side to stare about. Over my shoulder I told the men about
the Kurds who were coming, and they were not pleased.
Peering into the dark and wondering that so great a city as Stamboul
should show so few lights, I observed the Kurdish sentinels posted
about the dock.
"Those are to prevent us from going ashore until their friends
come!" said I, and they snarled at me like angry wolves.
"We could easily rush ashore and bayonet every one of them!" said
Gooja Singh.
But not a man would have gone ashore again for a commission in the
German army. Gallipoli was written in their hearts. Yet I could
think of a hundred thousand chances still that might prevent our
joining our friends the British in Gallipoli. Nor was I sure in my
own mind that Ranjoor Singh intended we should try. I was sure only
of his good faith, and content to wait developments.
Though the lights of the city were few and very far between, so many
search-lights played back and forth above the water that there
seemed a hundred of them. I judged it impossible for the smallest
boat to pass unseen and I wondered whether it was difficult or easy
to shoot with great guns by aid of search-lights, remembering what
strange tricks light can play with a gunner's eyes. Mist, too, kept
rising off the water to add confusion.
While I reflected in that manner, thinking that the shadow of every
wave and the side of every boat might be a submarine, Ranjoor Singh
came down from the bridge and stood beside me.
"I have seen what I have seen!" said he. "Listen! Obey! And give me
no back answers!"
"Sahib," said I, "I am thy man!" But he answered nothing to that.
"Pick the four most dependable men," he said, "and bid them enter
that cabin and gag and bind Tugendheim. Bid them make no noise and
see to it that he makes none, but let them do him no injury, for we
shall need him presently! When that is done, come back to me here!"
So I left him at once, he standing as I had done, staring at the
water, although I thought perhaps there was more purpose in his gaze
than there had been in mine.
I chose four men and led them aside, they greatly wondering.
"There is work to be done," said I, "that calls for true ones!"
"Such men be we!" said all four together.
"That is why I picked you from among the rest!" said I, and they
were well pleased at that. Then I gave them their orders.
"Who bids us do this?" they demanded.
"I!" said I. "Bind and gag Tugendheim, and we have Ranjoor Singh
committed. He gave the order, and I bid you obey it! How can he be
false to us and true to the Germans, with a gagged German prisoner
on his hands?"
They saw the point of that. "But what if we are discovered too
soon?" said they.
"What if we are sunk before dawn by a British submarine!" said I.
"We will swim when we find ourselves in water! For the present, bind
and gag Tugendheim!"
So they went and stalked Tugendheim, the German, who had been
drinking from a little pocket flask. He was drowsing in a chair in
the cabin, with his hands deep down in his overcoat pockets and his
helmet over his eyes. Within three minutes I was back at Ranjoor
Singh's side.
"The four stand guard over him!" said I.
"Very good!" said he. "That was well done! Now do a greater thing."
My heart burned, sahib, for I had once dared doubt him, yet all he
had to say to me was, "Well done! Now do a greater thing!" If he had
cursed me a little for my earlier unbelief I might have felt less
ashamed!
"Go to the men," said he, "and bid those who wish the British well
to put all the money they received this morning into a cloth. Bid
those who are no longer true to the British to keep their money.
When the money is all in the cloth, bring it here to me."
"But what if they refuse?" said I.
"Do YOU refuse?" he asked.
"Nay!" said I. "Nay, sahib!"
"Then why judge them?" said he. So I went.
Can the sahib imagine it? Two-hundred-and-three-and-thirty men,
including non-commissioned officers, wet and muddy in the dark,
beginning to be hungry, all asked at once to hand over all their pay
if they be true men, but told to keep it if they be traitors!
No man answered a word, although their eyes burned up the darkness.
I called for a lantern, and a man brought one from the engine-room
door. By its light I spread out a cloth, and laid all my money on it
on the deck. The sergeant nearest me followed my example. Gooja
Singh laid down only half his money.
"Nay!" said I. "All or none! This is a test for true men! Half-true
and false be one and the same to-night!" So Gooja Singh made a wry
face and laid down the rest of his money, and the others all
followed him, not at all understanding, as indeed I myself did not
understand, but coming one at a time to me and laying all their
money on the cloth. When the last man had done I tied the four
corners of the cloth together (it was all wet with the rain and
slush on deck, and heavy with the weight of coin) and carried it to
Ranjoor Singh. (I forgot the four who stood guard over Tugendheim;
they kept their money.)
"We are all true men!" said I, dumping it beside him.
"Good!" said he. "Come!" And he took the bundle of money and
ascended the bridge ladder, bidding me wait at the foot of it for
further orders. I stood there two hours without another sign of him,
although I heard voices in the wheel-house.
Now the men grew restless. Reflection without action made them begin
to doubt the wisdom of surrendering all their money at a word. They
began to want to know the why and wherefore of the business, and I
was unable to tell them.
"Wait and see!" said I, but that only exasperated them, and some
began to raise their voices in anger. So I felt urged to invent a
reason, hoping to explain it away afterward should I be wrong. But
as it turned out I guessed at least a little part of Ranjoor Singh's
great plan and so achieved great credit that was useful later,
although at the time I felt myself losing favor with them.
"Ranjoor Singh will bribe the captain of the ship to steam away
before that regiment of Kurds can come on board," said I. "So we
shall have the ship at our mercy, provided we make no mistakes."
That did not satisfy them, but it gave them something new to think
about, and they settled down to wait in silence, as many as could
crowding their backs against the deck-house and the rest suffering
in the rain. I would rather have heard them whispering, because I
judged the silence to be due to low spirits. I knew of nothing more
to say to encourage them, and after a time their depression began to
affect me also. Rather than watch them, I watched the water, and
more than once I saw something I did not recognize, that
nevertheless caused my skin to tingle and my breath to come in
jerks. Sikh eyes are keen.
It was perhaps two hours before midnight when the long spell of
firing along the water-front began and I knew that my eyes and the
dark had not deceived me. All the search-lights suddenly swept
together to one point and shone on the top-side of a submarine--or
at least on the water thrown up by its top-side. Only two masts and
a thing like a tower were visible, and the plunging shells threw
water over those obscuring them every second. There was a great
explosion, whether before or after the beginning of the gun-fire I
do not remember, and a ship anchored out on the water no great
distance from us heeled over and began to sink. One search-light was
turned on the sinking ship, so that I could see hundreds of men on
her running to and fro and jumping; but all the rest of the water
was now left in darkness.
The guards who had been set to prevent our landing all ran to
another wharf to watch the gun-fire and the sinking ship, and it was
at the moment when their backs were turned that two Turkish seamen
came down from the bridge and loosed the ropes that held us to the
shore. Then our ship began to move out slowly into the darkness
without showing lights or sounding whistle. There was still no sign
of Ranjoor Singh, nor had I time to look for him; I was busy making
the men be still, urging, coaxing, cursing--even striking them.
"Are we off to Gallipoli?" they asked.
"We are off to where a true man may remember the salt!" said I,
knowing no more than they.
I know of nothing more confusing to a landsman, sahib, than a
crowded harbor at night. The many search-lights all quivering and
shifting in the one direction only made confusion worse and we had
not been moving two minutes when I no longer knew north from south
or east from west. I looked up, to try to judge by the stars. I had
actually forgotten it was raining. The rain came down in sheets and
overhead the sky began at little more than arm's length! Judge,
then, my excitement.
We passed very close to several small steamers that may have been
war-ships, but I think they were merchant ships converted into
gunboats to hunt submarines. I think, too, that in the darkness they
mistook us for another of the same sort, for, although we almost
collided with two of them, they neither fired on us nor challenged.
We steamed straight past them, beginning to gain speed as the last
one fell away behind.
Does the sahib remember whether the passage from Stamboul into the
Sea of Marmora runs south or east or west? Neither could I remember,
although at another time I could have drawn a map of it, having
studied such things. But memory plays us strange tricks, and
cavalrymen were never intended to maneuver in a ship! Ranjoor Singh,
up in the wheel-house, had a map--a good map, that he had stolen
from the German officers--but I did not know that until later. I
stood with both hands holding the rails of the bridge ladder
wondering whether gunfire or submarine would sink us and urging the
men to keep their heads below the bulwark lest a search-light find
us and the number of heads cause suspicion.
I have often tried to remember just how many hours we steamed from
Stamboul, yet I have no idea to this day beyond that the voyage was
ended before dawn. It was all unexpected--we were too excited, and
too fearful for our skins to recall the passage of hours. It was
darker than I have ever known night to be, and the short waves that
made our ship pitch unevenly were growing steeper every minute, when
Ranjoor Singh came at last to the head of the ladder and shouted for
me. I went to him up the steps, holding to each rail for dear life.
"Take twenty men," he ordered, "and uncover the forward hatch. Throw
the hatch coverings overboard. The hold is full of cartridges. Bring
up some boxes and break them open. Distribute two hundred rounds to
every man, and throw the empty boxes overboard. Then get up twenty
more boxes and place them close together, in readiness to take with
us when we leave the ship. Let me know when that is all done."
So I took twenty men and we obeyed him. Two hundred rounds of
cartridges a man made a heavy extra load and the troopers grumbled.
"Can we swim with these?" they demanded.
"Who knows until he has tried?" said I.
"How far may we have to march with such an extra weight?" said they.
"Who knows!" said I, counting out two hundred more to another man.
"But the man," I said, "who lacks one cartridge of the full count
when I come to inspect shall be put to the test whether he can swim
at all!"
Some of them had begun to throw half of their two hundred into the
water, but after I said that they discontinued, and I noticed that
those who had so done came back for more cartridges, pretending that
my count had been short. So I served them out more and said nothing.
There were hundreds of thousands of rounds in the hold of the ship,
and I judged we could afford to overlook the waste.
At last we set the extra twenty boxes in one place together,
slipping and falling in the process because the deck was wet and the
ship unsteady; and then I went and reported to Ranjoor Singh.
"Very good," said he. "Make the men fall in along the deck, and bid
them be ready for whatever may befall!"
"Are we near land, sahib?" said I.
"Very near!" said he.
I ran to obey him, peering into the blackness to discover land, but
I could see nothing more than the white tops of waves, and clouds
that seemed to meet the sea within a rope's length of us. Once or
twice I thought I heard surf, but the noise of the rain and of the
engines and of the waves pounding against the ship confused my ears,
so that I could not be certain.
When the men were all fallen in I went and leaned over the bulwark
to try to see better; and as I did that we ran in under a cliff, for
the darkness grew suddenly much darker. Then I surely heard surf.
Then another sound startled me, and a shock nearly threw me off my
feet. I faced about, to find twenty or thirty men sprawling their
length upon the deck, and when I had urged and helped them up the
engines had stopped turning, and steam was roaring savagely through
the funnel. The motion of the ship was different now; the front part
seemed almost still, but the behind part rose and fell jerkily.
I busied myself with the men, bullying them into silence, for I
judged it most important to be able to hear the first order that
Ranjoor Singh might give; but he gave none just yet, although I
heard a lot of talking on the bridge.
"Is this Gallipoli?" the men kept asking me in whispers.
"If it were," said I, "we should have been blown to little pieces by
the guns of both sides before now!" If I had been offered all the
world for a reward I could not have guessed our whereabouts, nor
what we were likely to do next, but I was very sure we had not
reached Gallipoli.
Presently the Turkish seamen began lowering the boats. There were
but four boats, and they made clumsy work of it, but at last all
four boats were in the water; and then Ranjoor Singh began at last
to give his orders, in a voice and with an air that brought
reassurance. No man could command, as he did who had the least
little doubt in his heart of eventual success. There is even more
conviction in a true man's voice than in his eye.
He ordered us overside eight at a time, and me in the first boat
with the first eight.
"Fall them in along the first flat place you find on shore, and wait
there for me!" said he. And I said, "Ha, sahib!" wondering as I
swung myself down a swaying rope whether my feet could ever find the
boat. But the sailors pulled the rope's lower end, and I found
myself in a moment wedged into a space into which not one more man
could have been crowded.
The waves broke over us, and there was a very evil surf, but the
distance to the shore was short and the sailors proved skilful. We
landed safely on a gravelly beach, not so very much wetter than we
had been, except for our legs (for we waded the last few yards), and
I hunted at once for a piece of level ground. Just thereabouts it
was all nearly level, so I fell my eight men in within twenty yards
of the surf, and waited. I felt tempted to throw out pickets yet
afraid not to obey implicitly. Ranjoor Singh given no order about
pickets.
I judge it took more than an hour, and it may have been two hours,
to bring all the men and the twenty boxes of cartridges ashore. At
last in three boats came the captain of the ship, and the mate, and
the engineer, and nearly all the crew. Then I grew suddenly afraid
and hot sweat burst out all over me, for by the one lantern that had
been hung from the ship's bridge rail to guide the rowers I could
see that the ship was moving! The ship's captain had climbed out of
the last boat and was standing close to it. I went up to him and
seized his shoulder.
"What dog's work is this?" said I. "Speak!" I said, shaking him,
although he could not talk any tongue that I knew--but I shook him
none-the-less until his teeth chattered, and, his arms being wrapped
in that great shawl of his, there was little he could do to prevent
me.
As I live, sahib, on the word of a Sikh I swear that not even in
that instant did I doubt Ranjoor Singh. I believed that the Turkish
captain might have stabbed him, or that Tugendheim might have played
some trick. But not so the men. They saw the lantern receding and
receding, dancing with the motion of the ship, and they believed
themselves deserted.
"Quick! Fire on him!" shouted some one. "Let him not escape! Kill
him before he is out of range!"
I never knew which trooper it was who raised that cry, although I
went to some trouble to discover afterward. But I heard Gooja Singh
laugh like a hyena; and I heard the click of cartridges being thrust
into magazines. I was half minded to let them shoot, hoping they
might hit Tugendheim. But the Turk freed his arms at last, and began
struggling.
"Look!" he said to me in English. "VOILA!" said he in French.
"REGARDEZ! Look--see!"
I did look, and I saw enough to make me make swift decision. The
light was nearer to the water--quite a lot nearer. I flung myself on
the nearest trooper, whose rifle was already raised, and taken by
surprise he loosed his weapon. With it I beat the next ten men's
rifles down, and they clattered on the beach. That made the others
pause and look at me.
"The man who fires the first shot dies!" said I, striving to make
the breath come evenly between my teeth for sake of dignity, yet
with none too great success. But in the principal matter I was
successful, for they left their alignment and clustered round to
argue with me. At that I refused to have speech with them until they
should have fallen in again, as befitted soldiers. Falling in took
time, especially as they did it sulkily; and when the noise of
shifting feet was finished I heard oars thumping in the oar-locks.
A boat grounded amid the surf, and Ranjoor Singh jumped out of it,
followed by Tugendheim and his four guards. The boat's crew leaped
into the water and hauled the boat high and dry, and as they did
that I saw the ship's lantern disappear altogether.
Ranjoor Singh went straight to the Turkish captain. "Your money,"
said he, speaking in English slowly--I wonder, sahib, oh, I have
wondered a thousand times in what medley of tongues strange to all
of them they had done their bargaining!--"Your money," said he, "is
in the boat in which I came. Take it, and take your men, and go!"
The captain and his crew said nothing, but got into the boats and
pushed away. One of the boats was overturned in the surf, and there
they left it, the sailors scrambling into the other boats. They were
out of sight and sound in two minutes. Then Ranjoor Singh turned to
me.
"Send and gather fire-wood!" he ordered.
"Where shall dry wood be in all this rain?" said I.
"Search!" said he.
"Sahib," said I, "a fire would only betray our whereabouts."
"Are you deaf?" said he.
"Nay!" I said.
"Then obey!" said he. So I took twenty men, and we went stumbling
through rain and darkness, hunting for what none of us believed was
anywhere. Yet within fifteen minutes we found a hut whose roof was
intact, and therefore whose floor and inner parts were dry enough.
It was a little hut, of the length of perhaps the height of four
men, and the breadth of the height of three--a man and a half high
from floor to roof-beam. It was unoccupied, but there was straw at
one end--dry straw, on which doubtless guards had slept. I left the
men standing there and went and told Ranjoor Singh.
I found him talking to the lined up men in no gentle manner. As I
drew nearer I heard him say the word "Wassmuss." Then I heard a
trooper ask him, "Where are we?" And he answered, "Ye stand on
Asia!" That was the first intimation I received that we were in
Asia, and I felt suddenly lonely, for Asia is wondrously big, sahib.
Whatever Ranjoor Singh had been saying to the men he had them back
under his thumb for the time being; for when I told him of my
discovery of the hut he called them to attention, turned them to the
right, and marched them off as obedient as a machine, Tugendheim
following like a man in a dream between his four guards and
struggling now and then to loose the wet thongs that were beginning
to cut into his wrists. He had not been trussed over-tenderly, but I
noticed that Ranjoor Singh had ordered the gag removed.
The hut stood alone, clear on all four sides, and after he had
looked at it, Ranjoor Singh made the men line up facing the door,
with himself and me and Tugendheim between them and the hut.
Presently he pushed Tugendheim into the hut, and he bade me stand in
the door to watch him.
"Now the man who wishes to ask questions may," he said then, and
there was a long silence, for I suppose none wished to be accused of
impudence and perhaps made an example for the rest. Besides, they
were too curious to know what his next intention might be to care to
offend him. So I, seeing that he wished them to speak, and
conceiving that to be part of his plan for establishing good
feeling, asked the first question--the first that came into my head.
"What shall we do with this Tugendheim?" said I.
"That I will show you presently," said he. "Who else has a question
to ask?" And again there was silence, save for the rain and the
grinding and pounding on the beach.
Then Gooja Singh made bold, as he usually did when he judged the
risk not too great. He was behind the men, which gave him greater
courage; and it suited him well to have to raise his voice, because
the men might suppose that to be due to insolence, whereas Ranjoor
Singh must ascribe it to necessity. Well I knew the method of Gooja
Singh's reasoning, and I knitted my fists in a frenzy of fear lest
he say the wrong word and start trouble. Yet I need not have
worried. I observed that Ranjoor Singh seemed not disturbed at all,
and he knew Gooja Singh as well as I.
"It seems for the time being that we have given the slip to both
Turks and Germans," said Gooja Singh; and Ranjoor Singh said, "Aye!
For the time being!"
"And we truly stand on Asia?" he asked.
"Aye!" said Ranjoor Singh,
"Then why did we not put those Turks ashore, and steam away in their
ship toward Gallipoli to join our friends?" said he.
"Partly because of submarines," said Ranjoor Singh, "and partly
because of gun-fire. Partly because of mines floating in the water,
and partly again from lack of coal. The bunkers were about empty. It
was because there was so little coal that the Germans trusted us
alone on board."
"Yet, why let the Turks have the steamer?" asked Gooja Singh, bound,
now that he was started, to prove himself in the right. "They will
float about until daylight and then send signals. Then will come
Turks and Germans!"
"Nay!" said Ranjoor Singh. "No so, for I sank the steamer! I myself
let the sea into her hold!"
Gooja Singh was silent for about a minute, and although it was dark
and I could not see him. I knew exactly the expression of his
face--wrinkled thus, and with the lower lip thrust out, so!
"Any more questions?" asked Ranjoor Singh, and by that time Gooja
Singh had thought again. This time he seemed to think he had an
unanswerable one, for his voice was full of insolence.
"Then how comes it," said he, "that you turned those Turks loose in
their small boats when we might have kept them with us for hostages?
Now they will row to the land and set their masters on our tracks!
Within an hour or two we shall all be prisoners again! Tell us why!"
"For one thing," said Ranjoor Singh, without any resentment in his
voice that I could detect (although THAT was no sign!), "I had to
make some sort of bargain with them, and having made it I must keep
it. The money with which I bribed the captain and his mate would
have been of little use to them unless I allowed them life and
liberty as well."
"But they will give the alarm and cause us to be followed!" shouted
Gooja Singh, his voice rising louder with each word.
"Nay, I think not!" said Ranjoor Singh, as calmly as ever. "In the
first place, I have a written receipt from captain and mate for our
money, stating the reason for which it was paid; if we were made
prisoners again, that paper would be found in my possession and it
might go ill with those Turks. In the second place, they will wish
to save their faces. In the third place, they must explain the loss
of their steamer. So they will say the steamer was sunk by a
submarine, and that they got away in the boats and watched us drown.
The crew will bear out what the captain and the mate say, partly
from fear, partly because that is the custom of the country, but
chiefly because they will receive a small share of the bribe. Let us
hope they get back safely--for their story will prevent pursuit!"
For about two minutes again there was silence, and then Gooja Singh
called out: "Why did you not make them take us to Gallipoli?"
"There was not enough coal!" said I, but Ranjoor Singh made a
gesture to me of impatience.
"The Germans wished us to go to Gallipoli," said he, "and I have
noticed that whatever they may desire is expressly intended for
their advantage and not ours. In Gallipoli they would have kept us
out of range at the rear, and presently they would have caused a
picture of us to be taken serving among the Turkish army. That they
would have published broadcast. After that I have no idea what would
have happened to us, except that I am sure we should never have got
near enough to the British lines to make good our escape. We must
find another way than that!"
"We might have made the attempt!" said Gooja Singh, and a dozen men
murmured approval.
"Simpletons!" came the answer. "The Germans laid their plans for the
first for photographs to lend color to lies about the Sikh troops
fighting for them! Ye would have played into their hands!"
"What then?" said I, after a minute, for at that answer they had all
grown dumb.
"What then?" said he. "Why, this: We are in Asia, but still on
Turkish soil. We need food. We shall need shelter before many hours.
And we need discipline, to aid our will to overcome! Therefore there
never was a regiment more fiercely disciplined than this shall be!
From now until we bring up in a British camp--and God knows when or
where that may happen!--the man who as much as thinks of
disobedience plays with death! Death--ye be as good as dead men
now!" said he.
He shook himself. A sense of loneliness had come on me since he told
us we were in Asia, and I think the men felt as I did. There had
been nothing to eat on the steamer, and there was nothing now.
Hunger and cold and rain were doing their work. But Ranjoor Singh
stood and shook himself, and moved slowly along the line to look in
each man's face, and I took new courage from his bearing. If I could
have known what he had in store for us, I would have leaped and
shouted. Yet, no, sahib; that is not true. If he had told me what
was coming, I would never have believed. Can the sahib imagine, for
instance, what was to happen next?
"Ye are as good as dead men!" he said, coming back to the center and
facing all the men. "Consider!" said he. "Our ship is sunk and the
Turks, to save their own skins, will swear they saw us drown. Who,
then, will come and hunt for dead men?"
I could see the eyes of the nearest men opening wider as new
possibilities began to dawn. As for me--my two hands shook.
"And we have with us," said he, "a hostage who might prove useful--a
hostage who might prove amenable to reason. Bring out the prisoner!"
said he.
So I bade Tugendheim come forth. He was sitting on the straw where
the guards had pushed him, still working sullenly to free his hands.
He came and peered through the doorway into darkness, and Ranjoor
Singh stood aside to let the men see him. They can not have seen
much, for it was now that utter gloom that precedes dawn. Nor can
Tugendheim have seen much.
"Do you wish to live or die?" asked Ranjoor Singh, and the German
gaped at him.
"That is a strange question!" he said.
"Is it strange," asked Ranjoor Singh, "that a prisoner should be
asked for information?"
"I am not afraid to die," said Tugendheim.
"You mean by rifle-fire?" asked Ranjoor Singh, and Tugendheim
nodded.
"But there are other kinds of fire," said Ranjoor Singh.
"What do you mean?" asked Tugendheim.
"Why," said Ranjoor Singh, "if we were to fire this hut to warm
ourselves, and you should happen to be inside it--what then?"
"If you intend to kill me," said Tugendheim, "why not be merciful
and shoot me?" His voice was brave enough, but it seemed to me I
detected a strain of terror in it.
"Few Germans are afraid to be shot to death," said Ranjoor Singh.
"But what have I done to any of you that you should want to burn me
alive?" asked Tugendheim; and that time I was positive his voice was
forced.
"Haven't you been told by your officers," said Ranjoor Singh, "that
the custom of us Sikhs is to burn all our prisoners alive?"
"Yes," said Tugendheim. "They told us that. But that was only a tale
to encourage the first-year men. Having lived in India, I knew
better."
"Did you trouble yourself to tell anybody better?" asked Ranjoor
Singh, but Tugendheim did not answer.
"Then can you give me any reason why you should not be burned alive
here, now?" asked Ranjoor Singh.
"Yes!" said Tugendheim. "It would be cruel. It would be devil's
work!" He was growing very uneasy, although trying hard not to show
it.
"Then give me a name for the tales you have been party to against us
Sikhs!" said Ranjoor Singh; but once more the German refrained from
answering. The men were growing very attentive, breathing all in
unison and careful to make no sound to disturb the talking. At that
instant a great burst of firing broke out over the water, so far
away that I could only see one or two flashes, and, although that
was none too reassuring to us, it seemed to Tugendheim like his
death knell. He set his lips and drew back half a step.
"Can you wish to live with the shame of all those lies against us on
your heart--you, who have lived in India and know so much better?"
asked Ranjoor Singh.
"Of course I wish to live!" said Tugendheim.
"Have you any price to offer for your life?" asked Ranjoor Singh,
and stepping back two paces he ordered a havildar with a loud voice
to take six men and hunt for dry kindling. "For there is not enough
here," said he.
"Price?" said Tugendheim. "I have a handful of coins, and my
uniform, and a sword. You left my baggage on the steamer--"
"Nay!" said Ranjoor Singh. "Your baggage came ashore in one of the
boats. Where is it? Who has it?"
A man stepped forward and pointed to it, lying in the shadow of the
hut with the rain from the roof dripping down on it.
"Who brought it ashore?" asked Ranjoor Singh.
"I," said the trooper.
"Then, for leaving it there in the rain, you shall carry it three
days without assistance or relief!" said Ranjoor Singh. "Get back to
your place in the ranks!" And the man got back, saying nothing.
Ranjoor Singh picked up the baggage and tossed it past Tugendheim
into the hut.
"That is all I have!" said Tugendheim.
"If you decide to burn, it shall burn with you," said Ranjoor Singh,
"and that trooper shall carry a good big stone instead to teach him
manners!"
"GOTT IN HIMMEL!" exclaimed Tugendheim, losing his self-control at
last. "Can I offer what I have not got?"
"Is there nothing you can do?" asked Ranjoor Singh.
"In what way? How?" asked the German.
"In the way of making amends to us Sikhs for all those lies you have
been party to," said Ranjoor Singh. "If you were willing to offer to
make amends, I would listen to you."
"I will do anything in reason," said Tugendheim, looking him full in
the eye and growing more at ease.
"I am a reasonable man," said Ranjoor Singh.
"Then, speak!" said Tugendheim.
"Nay, nay!" said Ranjoor Singh, "it is for you to make proposals,
and not for me. It is not I who stand waiting to be burned alive!
Let me make you a suggestion, however. What had we Sikhs to offer
when we were prisoners in Germany?"
"Oh, I see!" said Tugendheim. "You mean you wish me to join you--to
be one of you?"
"I mean," said Ranjoor Singh, "that if you were to apply to be
allowed to join this regiment for a while, and to be allowed to
serve us in a certain manner, we would consider the proposal.
Otherwise--is my meaning clear?"
"Yes!" said Tugendheim.
"Then--?' said Ranjoor Singh.
"I apply!" said Tugendheim; and at that moment the havildar and his
men returned with some straw they had found in another tumble-down
hut. They had it stuffed under their overcoats to keep it dry. "Too
late!" said Tugendheim with a grimace, but Ranjoor Singh bade them
throw the straw inside for all that.
"In Germany we were required to set our names to paper," he said,
and Tugendheim looked him in the eyes again for a full half minute.
"Do you expect better conditions than were offered us?" asked
Ranjoor Singh.
"I will sign!" said Tugendheim.
"What will you sign?" asked Ranjoor Singh.
"Anything in reason," answered Tugendheim.
"Let me tell you what I have here, then," said Ranjoor Singh, and he
groped in his inner pocket for a paper, that he brought out very
neatly folded, sheltering it from the rain under his cape. "This,"
said he, "is signed by the Turkish captain and mate of that sunken
steamer. It is a receipt for all our money, to be taken and divided
equally between you--mentioned by name--and them--mentioned also by
name, on condition that the ship be sunk and we be let go. If you
will sign the paper--here--above their signatures--it will entitle
you to one-third of all that money. They would neither of them dare
to refuse to share with you!"
"What if I refuse to sign?" asked Tugendheim, making a great savage
wrench to free his wrists, but failing.
"The suggestion is yours," said Ranjoor Singh. "You have only your
own judgment for a guide."
"If I sign it, will you let me go?" he asked.
"No," said Ranjoor Singh, "but we will not burn you alive if you
sign. Here is a fountain-pen. Your hands shall be loosed when you
are ready."
Tugendheim nodded, so I went and cut his hands loose; and when I had
chafed his wrists for a minute or two he was able to write on my
shoulder, I bending forward and Ranjoor Singh watching like a hawk
lest he tear the paper. But he made no effort to play tricks.
When Ranjoor Singh had folded the paper again he said: "Those two
Turks quite understood that you were to be asked to sign as well. In
fact, if there is any mishap they intend to lay all the blame on
you. But it is to their interest as much as yours to keep us from
being captured."
"You mean I'm to help you escape?" asked Tugendheim.
"Exactly!" said Ranjoor Singh. "Now that you have signed that, I am
willing to bargain with you. We intend to find Wassmuss."
Tugendheim pricked up his ears and began to look almost willing.
"We have heard of this Wassmuss, and have taken quite a fancy to
him. Your friends proposed to send us to the trenches, but we have
already had too much of that work and we intend to find Wassmuss and
take part with him. Let your business be to obey me implicitly and
to help us reach Wassmuss, and on the day we reach our goal you
shall go free with this paper given back to you. Disobey me, and you
shall sample unheard-of methods of repentance! Do we understand each
other?"
"I understand you!" said Tugendheim.
"I, too, wish to understand," said Ranjoor Singh.
"It is a bargain," said Tugendheim. But I noticed they did not shake
hands after European fashion, although I think Tugendheim would have
been willing. He was a hearty man in his way, given to bullying, but
also to quick forgetfulness; and I will say this much for him, that
although he was ever on the lookout for some way of breaking his
agreement, he kept it loyally enough while a way was lacking. I have
met men I liked less.
It was growing by that time to be very nearly dawn, and the weather
did not improve. The rain came down in squalls and sheets and the
wind screamed through, it, and we were famished as well as wet to
the skin--all, that is to say, except Tugendheim, who had enjoyed
the shelter of the hut. The teeth of many of the men were
chattering. Yet we stood about for an hour more, because it was too
dark and too dangerous to march over unknown ground. I suspect
Ranjoor Singh did not dare squander what little spirit the men had
left; if they had suspected him of losing them in the dark they
might have lost heart altogether.
But at last there grew a little cold color in the sky and the sea
took on a shade of gray. Then Ranjoor Singh told off the same four
men who had first arrested him to guard our prisoner by day and
night, taking turns to pretend to be his servant, with orders to
give instant alarm should his movements seem suspicious. After that
Tugendheim was searched, but, nothing of interest being found on
him, his money and various little things were given back.
"Had he no pistol?" asked Ranjoor Singh.
"Yes," said I, "but I took it when we bound and gagged him on the
steamer." And I drew it out and showed it, feeling proud, never
having had such a weapon--for the law of British India is strict.
"Why did you not tell me?" he asked, and I was silent. "Give it
here!" said he, and I gave it up. He examined it, drew out the
cartridges, and passed it to Tugendheim, who pocketed it with a
laugh. It was three days before he spoke to Tugendheim and caused
him to give me the pistol back. I think the men were impressed, and
I was glad of it, although at the time I felt ashamed.
Presently Ranjoor Singh himself chose an advance guard of twenty men
and put me in command of it.
"March eastward," he ordered me. "According to my map, you should
find a road within a mile or two running about northeast and
southwest; turn to the left along it. Halt if you see armed men, and
send back word. Keep a lookout for food, for the men are starving,
but loot nothing without my order! March!" said he.
"May I ask a question, sahib," said I, still lingering.
"Ask," said he.
"Would you truly have burned the German alive?" said I, and he
laughed.
"That would have been a big fire," said he. "Do you think none would
have come to investigate?"
"That is what I was thinking," said I.
"Do such thoughts burn your brain?" said he. "A threat to a bully--to
a fool, folly--to a drunkard, drink--to each, his own! Be going
now!"
So I saluted him and led away, wondering in my heart, the weather
growing worse, if that were possible, but my spirits rising. I knew
now that my back was toward Gallipoli, where the nearest British
were, yet my heart felt bold with love for Ranjoor Singh and I did
not doubt we would strike a good blow yet for our friends, although
I had no least idea who Wassmuss was, nor whither we were marching.
If I had known--eh, but listen, sahib--this is a tale of tales!