The Doctor was busy with his patients in the heat of the day, loosening
one poor fellow's bandage, and tightening another that an irritable
sufferer had worked loose; while Mrs Smithers was thoroughly proving
her ability at using basin and sponge over the brows of some poor,
fevered fellow whose pillow-less head rolled slowly from side to side.
Archie was taking the mess-room on his way to visit the chamber where
Peter Pegg was stationed, and from whose window an occasional shot rang
out from time to time, with the result of the gaudily robed Malay in a
smart, cavalry-like cap, who had drawn the shot, being seen no more.
"How am I, Mister Archie, sir? Oh, it's rather hot here, sir," said
Mrs Smithers; and then, in response to a second: `Yes, old lady, or, I
should say, Madame la Duchesse'--"Now, please, sir, don't you get
calling me names too. I don't mind from the Doctor, but it teases when
it comes from a young gent like you. No, sir, I ain't cross, only a bit
worried by the flies. They are terrible, and it's all due to its being
so hot."
"Yes, Mrs Smithers," said Archie meaningly. "It is hot, and no
mistake. But how beautiful and tidy you have got everything!"
"Well, it is a bit better, sir. I have been collecting all the mats I
could find for the poor boys. Do you hear any news, sir, of
reinforcements coming up?"
"Not yet, old lady."
"I do wish they'd come, sir; and oh, Mr Archie, can't I do anything for
you?"
"Me? No! I am not wounded."
"No, sir; but, oh dear, what a state you are in! Some clean things
would be a blessing to you."
"Oh, wait a bit. One's got something else to think about now. Where's
the Doctor?"
"He was here just this minute, sir; and he's sure not to be long, for I
never see such a man for watching everybody who's in hospital. There, I
thought so! Here he is, with the mess water-can and a clean glass. He
might have asked me to fetch some water if he wanted it. But he always
will interfere with what's in my department."
"Hullo, Maine, my lad, you here! You are just in time. I've been
fetching a can of this clear, sparkling water for my poor fellows. Look
sharp, for I can see several eyes looking at it hungrily--I mean
thirstily," he added quickly.
He filled the glass after the fashion of Dickens's butler, trying to
froth it up with a heading of sparkling beads.
"May I drink this, Doctor?" said Archie.
"Drink it? Of course! You are one of my patients still."
"Thanks. But ladies first.--Here, Mrs Smithers; you look tired and
hot. I will have the next glass."
"No, sir, please," said the woman firmly. "You want it worse than I
do."
"Don't waste time," said the Doctor sternly. "Drink the water, my lad."
The deliciously cool draught trickled down Archie's throat till the
bottom of the glass became top.
"De-licious," he said.
The Doctor took the glass, filled it, emptied it, smacked his lips, and
then refilled and handed it to Mrs Smithers.
"Your turn, nurse," he said. "Then take the can and go all round, and
finish off by taking a glass up to the Frenchman."
"Ah, I was looking round, sir, for him," said Archie.
"Yes, I am getting too full here, my lad. I have had him carried up to
that room where Pegg's on duty."
"Oh, I'm going there, sir, and I shall see him."
"One moment, Duchess; half a glass, please. I feel like a volcanic
cinder.--As you say, my lad--de-licious," he continued, as he handed
back the glass. "I am proud of that water, and so you ought to be."
"I am, Doctor."
"That's all due to me, sir. When we first came--you know the Major's
way--`Nonsense,' he said. `There will be three hundred idle men here
with nothing to do, and they can fetch as much water as we want for the
day's supply from the river.' And I said, `No. In a hot country like
this I want my men to have good, pure, sparkling well water, and not to
be forced to drink croc and campong drainage soup. I want a thoroughly
good well dug by an engineering company.' I got it, too, just when he
was red-hot over his idea for a magazine. And now, sir, there's my
well, always full of that delicious spring water that will do the men
more good than any medicine I can exhibit; and where's his magazine?
You tell me that."
"If he were here, Doctor, he'd tell you that he'd rather have the
magazine intact than the well."
"Never mind. I've got the water."
"Yes, Doctor. But how's Mrs Morley?"
"Ah, poor dear soul!" replied the Doctor, and his eyes looked moist.
"Worked to death, thank goodness!"
"Thank goodness?" said Archie wonderingly.
"Yes, my lad. It keeps her from thinking and fretting about Minnie.
I'll tell her you asked after her, my boy. It will please her, for she
doesn't know what a reckless young scamp you are, and she always talks
of you as if you were her own boy. Going?"
"Yes, Doctor."
"All right and square, my boy? No shot or spear holes in you?"
"No, sir; I'm as sound as sound."
"That's right. If you do get into any trouble, you know where I am; and
though I don't want you, you will be welcome to our mess--and a nice
mess we are in, eh, Archie?--Come, look sharp, you British soldiers, and
clear away all this scum."
"Only too glad, sir," said Archie, and he hurried away to have a few
words with the sentry who commanded the landing-place, and who was so
intent at the window, watching the edge of the jungle, that he did not
hear his visitor till he spoke.
"Got company, Mister Archie, sir? Yes; that French chap. Doctor said
if he was not brought up here where he'd be quiet he would go off sudden
like. Not very cheerful company, for he's awful bad, and when he does
talk it's all in his _parly-voo, kesky say, pally wag bang_ lingo that
don't mean nothing as I can make out."
"Ah, poor fellow! I suppose he's very bad."
"Oh, that's right, sir! Poor fellow, and we are all very sorry for him
and much obliged because he was kind enough to come and blow all our
cartridges to Jericho, or elsewhere, as they say on the soldiers'
letters. You stop here a little while, sir, and you will hear him begin
to jabber. Talk about that mahout's _pa-ta-ta-ma-ta-ja-ja-ja_--this
chap goes twice as fast."
"Well, Pete, I can't stop talking to you. I only wanted to take you in
my round. Are you all right?"
"Right as a trivet, sir; only I am getting awful short of ammunition. I
don't want to keep on potting these 'ere fellows, but somehow I took to
rifle-shooting. There's some fun in hitting a mark at a distance, and
that's the only thing I ever got a kind word for from old Tipsy. He
said I could shoot."
"Yes, you are a very good marksman, Pete; and that's why you are
stationed here."
"Yes, I suppose so, sir. But 'tain't my fault that I'm a good marksman,
as you call it. It come quite easy like. I suppose it's good for us,
but it's very bad for these 'ere Malay chaps, and it does make me feel a
bit squirmy when one of them gives me a chance, and then it's _oracle,
phit_, and down he goes, and me loading again. I don't want to shoot
them. But then if I don't keep on knocking them over they'll knock us
over, and I've got such a kind of liking for PP that I'd sooner shoot
one of them than that they should shoot me. Still, there is something a
bit queer about it."
"You are doing your duty, Pete, fighting for your country."
"I say, sir, that ain't quite right, is it? Seems to me that I'm
fighting for these 'ere people's country."
"We needn't go into that, Pete. You are doing your duty--fighting for
your comrades in defence of this station and the women and children."
"There he goes again, sir. Just you listen. It makes me wish I could
understand what he's saying."
Archie turned sharply, for from the part of the room where the Frenchman
was lying upon one of the mats Mrs Smithers had placed for him, with
another rolled-up to form his pillow, came the quick, excited utterance
of the terribly injured man.
He was delirious, and evidently in his wanderings was going over
something that had impressed him strongly, and almost at his first
utterances in his own tongue he attracted the subaltern to his side.
Archie was no good French scholar, but that tongue had formed part of
his studies at a public school, and he had been somewhat of a favourite
with the French master, who had encouraged his pupils in acquiring
French conversation by making them his companions in his country walks.
The sufferer's first utterance was an expression of anger at somebody
whom he was addressing, calling him an _imbecile_; and then Archie
pretty clearly gathered his meaning. He was telling the man to be
careful, and to give him something so that he could do it himself.
"No," he said, "you don't understand. I wish I could tell you in your
own tongue. There, your hands are trembling; you are afraid. You hate
these people, but not with the great hate I feel towards them, who am
their natural enemy. There, give me the two bags. Yes, it is bad
powder; not such as, if I had known, I might have brought from my own
country. What is it? You hear some one coming? Lie down. No one can
see us here, shut in behind these trees. You are afraid they will
shoot? Bah! Let them! They could not aim at us in this darkness. Be
brave, as I am. Recollect what I told you before we started to creep
here: if we fire, it will destroy all their ammunition. They will be
defenceless, and it will be easy for your prince to slay and capture all
these wretched British usurpers of your prince's country. And I shall
be the Rajah's great friend and counsellor, and make him great, so that
he will become a glorious prince and reign over a happy, contented
people. There, you are not afraid now. Your hand trembles, though.
Well, help me to pour out what is in this bag in a heap over that pile
of boxes. Do not tremble so. Nothing can hurt us now. That is good.
Now stand there, behind those bushes, and tell me if you hear any of the
enemy coming. That is good, and there is the good work done. Quick!
Now the other bag. My faith, how you tremble! Now my hand--hold it
tight and lead me through the darkness back to the way we came--in
silence, so that the enemy shall not hear. No, no--too fast! Do you
not understand? You must lead me so that I can pour the powder from the
bag as I walk backwards and lay the train."
The Frenchman ceased his utterance, and though Archie missed some of his
words, the scene that must have taken place in the darkness of the
jungle surrounding the magazine seemed to start out vividly and picture
itself before the listener's eyes. Then the sufferer began to speak
again, in a low, quick, excited way.
"Ah! Idiot! Clumsy! I could have done better without you. Do you not
understand? You have trampled over the careful train I have laid, and I
must scatter more, or the plan will fail. Stay here till I come back to
you.--Curses! He has gone. What matter? I can finish now. That is
well. There is plenty, and it cannot fail. Now the matches.--Stop. Is
the way clear? I shall have time--and--yes, I can find my way as I did
before. I was mad to bring that shivering idiot. He has been in my way
all through. But no; he did carry the bag, and the task that brings
ruin and destruction upon these English is nearly done. Now--the
matches. Ah! Confusion! The box must have been wet. Now another;
then quick! The moment the fire begins to run. Confusion! Is it that
the matches are wet? No. I am all in water, and the touch from my
fingers prevents the match from striking. Now--ah, that is better. But
hark! Could the sentry have seen that? No. I am trembling like that
coward Malay. Courage, my friend. It is such a little thing to do.
But I must hasten, before the powder spoils upon the damp ground, where
everything drips with the heavy dew. Courage, my friend--courage! It
is such a little thing, and for the glory of my beautiful France, and
for my great revenge against these English and their officers, while my
prince will rule in peace, and--yes, my faith! I shall rule him now.
Crack! That match burns, and--_hiss_--the train begins to run, and so
must I. Ah! My faith! I am going wrong. These trees catch my feet
with their frightful tangle, and the light dazzles my eyes. My faith!
My faith! I am lost!"
So vivid seemed the picture that the listener's brow grew moist, and he
turned shuddering away, to see that Peter was watching him curiously;
and both lads started now as a wild cry of horror and despair arose from
the rough pallet on which the sufferer lay struggling feebly.
"I'd say as you would, Mister Archie, sir: `Poor beggar!' for he must be
feeling very bad with his burns; but he don't deserve it. It was his
own doing. Could you make out what he was talking about?"
"A great deal of it, Pete."
"What was he saying of, sir?"
"Poor wretch! He's quite off his head. He seemed to be talking about
how he tried to blow up the magazine."
"Said he was sorry for it, perhaps, sir?"
"No, Pete; I didn't catch that."
"Ah, well, he would be, sir, because he didn't get away fast enough. A
chap who would do a thing like that wouldn't feel sorry for it if he
hadn't got caught.--I say, _pst_! Look here, Mister Archie."
"What is it?"
"I was only just in time to catch sight of them. Think of it! I only
turned my head to talk to you, but two of them took advantage and crept
right close up behind that bush. Can you see 'em?"
"No."
"Well, I can, sir, or think I can, because I saw them for a moment as
they dashed in. You stand back from the window, sir. There's only
shelter for one, and that's me."
"Are you going to fire?"
"Don't quite know, sir. Depends on them. They must have seen you when
you stood looking out before that Frenchman began to talk. I could send
a shot right through the bush, and it might hit one of them; but then it
mightn't, and I should have wasted a cartridge. I think I'll wait till
they come out to shoot or chuck a spear, and then I can be sure. What
do you say?"
"That will be quite right, Pete; and I will go on now. Why, Joe
Smithers ought to be able to spot any one hiding behind that bush. I'll
go round by where he's posted and see."
"Ought to be able to see for hisself," grumbled Peter; and as Archie
turned to reach the door, unaware of the fact that he was exposing
himself a little, Peter raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired a
snap shot, just as simultaneously Archie started at the brushing by his
cheek of a spear which came through the window with a low trajectory and
stuck with a soft _thud_ into something at the far end of the room.
"Missed him!" said Peter in an angry, impatient way. "No, I ain't. It
was only chance it, though. Ah! Would you?" For another spear flashed
through the window, making one of the young men duck down, while the
other started aside.
Then their eyes met in a curious look of horror, and for a few minutes
neither spoke.
"Think of that, now, Mister Archie!" said Peter, as his trembling
fingers were playing about the breech of his rifle.
"Horrible!" said Archie, as he recalled the confession to which he had
listened.
"Yes, sir; 'orrid, ain't it? And that was a chance shot, too, though he
meant it for you. I say, sir, he won't blow up no more magazines;" and
Peter made a great smudge across his moist forehead with his
powder-blackened hand. For the second spear had found its billet in the
chest of the Frenchman, whose sufferings were at an end.