THE REGIMENTAL COOK
The sun had long risen when George awoke from his heavy, dreamless
slumber. Tired nature had at last demanded and received her share of
the healing balm of sleep. The day had been exciting, and eventful;
and though the nervous strain had been great, it was long before his
busy brain allowed him to get to sleep. When it did, however, it was
hours before his body was sufficiently refreshed to begin the new
day.
The sun was pouring down with scorching intensity when he sprang
from his blankets; the heat of the atmosphere was like that of an
oven, and he flung back the fastenings of the doorway and plunged
his head into a bucket of water that stood ready to hand. Thoroughly
refreshed and cooled with his dip, he set out in search of
breakfast, his thoughts running wild over the events of the
preceding day, as he made his way down the lines towards the
cook-house.
As he hurried along he was astonished at the number of men who
paused in their work to take notice of him. As a matter of fact, he
was scarcely known to any one, except the officers with whom he came
into contact in his work, and yet he was greeted like an old friend
by nearly every one he came across. It was some time before he began
to realize that, in some way, the events of yesterday had brought
this about.
Reaching the cook-house, he plunged into the subject of breakfast.
Had the cook anything to eat?
"Anything to eat?" replied that worthy. "Well, rather. Always got
something for you, Mr. Helmar!" his greasy face smiling with a look
of pride at the man who had so distinguished himself on the hill
yesterday.
"I'm beastly hungry, and am afraid I'm a bit late," said George
apologetically. "But I was so tired that I overslept myself."
"Late? Not a bit of it--leastways, not for you. Here y'are, I been
a-savin' this for you," and the benevolent-looking "slushy" dived
into an oven and produced a piece of steak and some onions on a tin
plate.
George accepted this mark of extreme favour with the greatest
pleasure. The steak smelt savoury, although, by the looks of it, he
thought it would have done credit to a shoemaker's shop; but he fell
to with such a healthy appetite that the cook was still further
pleased.
"'Ere, 'av a drop o' my kauffee," he said, holding out a pannikin of
the steaming liquid; "there's a goodish 'stick' in it," he added,
with a knowing wink.
George accepted it without demur. He did not care for brandy, but he
felt that he was under an obligation to the man and would not hurt
his feelings by refusing what the soldiers considered a priceless
treasure.
While George was discussing his solid breakfast the cook looked on,
chattering away about the doings of yesterday, avoiding with
soldier-like tact Helmar's share in the proceedings; but just as the
meal was over and he was about to depart, he said--
"S'pose you won't be 'avin' many more meals along o' us?"
"What do you mean?" asked George, in surprise.
The man smiled and looked knowing.
"Orficers' mess grub better'n we do, yer know," he replied, winking
with the whole side of his face.
"Yes, I dare say they do, but that's got nothing to do with it,"
said George.
"Ho, 'asn't it! They tells me as you are a-goin' to be made a
horsifer."
Our hero laughed, and the man looked offended.
"No, no, that's wrong. You know, I'm not English, they can't do
that--besides, there's no reason for it."
"Well, now, I never thought o' that," replied the cook, somewhat
crestfallen. "But they're a-goin' to do somethin' for yer;
everybody's a-talkin' about 'ow you got them guns up the 'ill, and I
sez, right yer are, I sez, 'e's a chap as deserves to git hon."
George was quite confused at the man's praise, and, to avoid more of
it, said good-bye and left the kitchen. What he had heard had opened
his eyes. Now he knew the meaning of his morning's greetings from
the strangers he had passed. Apparently he was looked upon as a sort
of hero--well, he hoped they would find him something to do to prove
their belief in him.
Cutting across the parade ground towards the office, where his
duties as interpreter required him, he was met by an orderly
sergeant.
"Mornin', Mr. Helmar. I was just coming to look for you. You're
wanted at the office. I think," he went on, impressively, "there's a
little trip on hand and you are to go on it."
"Good! Do you know what it is, and where to?"
"Can't say, I'm sure. They keep these things very quiet. The
Adjutant's inside," he went on, "you'd better go in."
Helmar stepped in. A group of officers, standing round a desk,
turned as he entered.
"Ah," said one who was sitting at the table with a chart spread in
front of him, "I want you to hold yourself in readiness to accompany
Captain Forsyth, this evening, on a patrol towards Kafr Dowar. You
will act as interpreter. The commanding officer has selected you, as
the work to be done will entail considerable risk, and we require a
reliable man. Further instructions will be given you by Captain
Forsyth. The patrol starts at sundown. You can go now and get
ready."
"Very good, sir," replied George, and turned to leave. One of the
officers followed, and, as they got outside, joined him.
"Your orders are not very explicit, Helmar," said he, "and probably
convey but little to you. Of course, I dare say you know that after
yesterday's engagement Arabi has retreated to Kafr Dowar. It is
believed he has some thousands gathered under his banner, but we
want to be sure. We are going out to gather all information
possible, in which work you will be of great assistance to me."
"You, then, are Captain Forsyth?" asked George, at once.
"Yes, I asked that you might accompany me, for I do not care to
trust to the native interpreters, and, besides," with a smile, "I am
glad to have a man who not only can fight, but is also a man of
resource."
"I don't know the country, sir," answered Helmar doubtfully, "and,
under the circumstances, that seems to me to be a vital point.
Arabi's men are pretty smart, and no doubt there will be many traps
to avoid."
"I have taken all that into consideration. As far as the country is
concerned, I will answer for that, and the traps--well, we must be
as shrewd as the enemy."
"I am only too glad of the chance," said Helmar, afraid lest, in
offering objections, the officer should think he did not want to go,
"and if it comes to a tight corner, I will give the best account of
myself possible."
"That's all right, then," said Captain Forsyth. "And now you had
better go and get ready. I am going to let you use one of my own
horses instead of a trooper; a blanket on the saddle is all that you
can carry, except, of course, a day or two's rations in your wallet
in case of accidents. You can get your arms from the quartermaster."
The officer returned to the room, and Helmar hurried off to secure
all that he needed.
There was but little difficulty; evidently orders had been given
beforehand, for his equipments were laid out and waiting for him.
In an hour's time he had collected together everything he required,
and the rest of the day was his own.
His spirits were at the highest possible pitch, and the thoughts of
the luck which was following him made him feel ready to undertake
the most daring enterprises. He blessed the engineer officer who had
given him the opportunity with the guns the day before. The drudgery
of ganging natives in the trenches seemed as if it had now gone for
ever, and he was about to embark on responsible work, or, at least,
work that would give him scope to prove his mettle. The more he
thought of it, the more castles he built of rising to a big
position, until, at last, realizing the absurdity of his dreams, he
brought himself back to the practical side of his duty.
Late in the afternoon, about an hour before sundown, he again
visited his friend the cook. He found that worthy looking as
benevolently greasy as ever, and ready to offer him all the
resources of his larder.
"I thought I'd come and get my tea now, cook, I've got to go out on
patrol at sundown. I'm afraid I'm a beastly nuisance."
"Nuisance? No, o' course not. I ain't one o' them blokes as grumble
cause a feller's 'ungry. Wot d'yer say to a bit o' cold meat and
some tea to start with?"
"Splendid. I haven't had any dinner, I had breakfast so late, so
we'll make up for it now."
"An' where are yer goin', if it's a fair question?" asked his
companion.
"Well, I don't know that I ought to say. Still, I wasn't told to
keep it quiet, so I suppose it doesn't matter. It seems old Arabi
has retired to Kafr Dowar and is going to make a stand there. We're
going to gather information. I don't suppose there'll be much
excitement."
"Um," replied the cook, placing a pile of toast and dripping in
front of his visitor. "I wouldn't mind bettin' a day's pay you git
all the fun yer want afore yer git back."
"Why, what makes you think that?" asked George, amused at the man's
tone of conviction.
"Yer don't know them horsifers like I do; I ain't been in service
all these years for nothin'. I tell yer, if there wasn't no danger
they'd a sent one o' them blessed blacks to interprit instead o'
you. They knows you've got the grit, so they sends you, and it's
odds yer don't come back with a 'ole skin."
George knew the man's words were not meant unkindly, although they
were something of a raven's croaking; however, with undamped ardour,
he attacked the pile of greasy toast and waited for his host to
continue.
"I ain't got no opinion o' them all-fired Gypies!" he went on, as
Helmar did not reply. "They're that treacherous as never, and if
they gits 'old o' yer it means murder. Now, my advice is, an' I've
'ad twenty year experience as a soldier ov 'er Majesty Queen
Victoria--the greatest soverin o' the day--askin' yer pardon, as yer
a Doycher--wot I says is, bayonit 'em, an' when yer done it see as
they ain't alive arter. If yer don't, yer a goner."
The good-natured cook had worked himself up to such a pitch of
excitement as he laid the law down to our hero, that the latter was
seriously afraid of apoplexy, and when the old fellow had finished,
it was with difficulty he refrained from bursting out into a roar of
laughter. However, keeping a straight face, he took a long pull at
the pannikin of tea, and prepared to leave.
"I've no doubt you are right, cook, and I shan't forget your advice.
Well, good-bye, see you again some day."
"Good-bye, Mr. Helmar," replied the cook, again beaming with
good-nature and fat. "Good luck to you; don't forgit there's allers
a drop o' good kauffee 'ere," and he turned to his work with a
chuckle.
Helmar hurried back to his quarters, and calling the chief nigger of
his gang up, sent him to Captain Forsyth's quarters for the horse.
While he was gone George busied himself with looking to his saddle.
Presently, the fellow returned with a fine upstanding, raw-boned,
dark brown horse. The animal looked all fire and mettle, and as
George cast his eye over it, he registered a mental vow to thank the
officer for his generosity.
"You go to Kafr Dowar?" asked the nigger, as he held the horse for
George to saddle him.
"What's it to do with you where I'm going?" he asked sharply. "Mind
your own business."
"Be not angry with thy servant," said the man with a furtive glance,
which he quickly averted as he caught Helmar's eye. "I but thought.
Arabi is there."
"How do you know?" asked George quickly.
"I hear," was the evasive reply. Then, seeing the dissatisfied look
on Helmar's face, he tried to ingratiate himself. "The horse is
good, he will travel fast," he went on, with a glance of admiration
at the animal.
For a moment Helmar was thrown off his guard.
"Yes, and it will take Arabi all his time to catch him, if we should
come across him."
"Then you go to Kafr Dowar," said the man, with a grin.
George, seeing his mistake, was about to reply, when he saw the
patrol getting ready, so, without further parley, he mounted his
horse and rode towards them.