Читать книгу Smithy Abroad - Barrack-Room Sketches - Edgar Wallace - Страница 14

Table of Contents

IF you complain that I serve for your amusement no other army fare than the extremes of tragedy and broad farce, and if you demand, pathetically, querulously, curiously, or idly: Is there no humdrum via media between laughter and tears in everyday barrack life? I answer: Very possibly there is. For there are washing days and spring-cleaning days, when the appalling odour of military soap-suds and regimental fresh paint permeates the social atmosphere, and life becomes a tedious and insupportable burden. Days of pipeclaying and scrubbing, coal-carrying and whitewashing; preparations for G.O.C.’s inspection, when men grow crochetty and short of speech, when the canteen is a wilderness smelling of sawdust, and the “library” a desert redolent with the aroma of last night’s coffee. Days of dreadful busyness, when the soldier complains bitterly that he is earning his shilling.

Yet (if you will forgive the platitude) there is a silver lining to every cloud, and I have known a gloomy battalion all spick and span, belted, strapped, immaculately blancoed and polished, geometrically trussed in its Slade-Wallace equipment, ready for the bugle to sound the “fall in” for C.O.’s inspection, to be suddenly transformed into an ecstatically joyful, almost hysterical band of happy schoolboys.

Picture the scene. The helmeted men putting the last touches on their toilette—a dab of pipeclay here, a rub of the rag there; then:

“It’s rainin’!” says a voice. A hush falls on the room. Men crowd to the windows. Down comes the rain, a steady, persistent drizzle.

No man dares to voice his hope, the gloom continues that the gods may be propitiated, for a too premature demonstration of joy might arrest the downpour.

Three minutes to parade time—two minutes—a minute, then, from the barrack square, a staccato bugle call, to which some imaginative soul has put suitable words:

‘There’s no parade to-day!There’s no parade to-day!

The colonel has the stomach-ache—the adjutant’s away’

A cheerful yell from every room—you can hear the faint cheering from the furthermost barrack quarters.

What though they have spent days and, perhaps, weeks preparing for this particular function? What though all their labours, their whitening, their blackening, their brushing, polishing, boning, rolling, and strapping, have been to no purpose? What though their efforts have gone for naught? This is their compensation: that somebody has been fooled. Somebody in a cocked hat, with a cross-hilted sword, who expected to see them on parade, in marching order, has been foiled, and last, but by no means least, Mr. Atkins has got out of doing something that he ought to have done!

“You understand as well as I do,” said Smithy, “that soldiers hate workin’ at their job, they hate soldierin’, they hate goin’ on guard an’ lookin’ nice an’ pretty. There was a feller once—was it you?—who wrote a lot of stuff about the ideal uniform for a soldier, but he went wide of the mark, because the ideal uniform would be a green an’ blue-striped jersey, an’ ole pair of kharki trousis, a pair of pink carpet slippers, an’ a golf cap. An’ if that was the uniform, he’d probably think the green an’ blue jersey was a bit too quiet an’ go in for something more tasty. If you ask me, the kit some fellers get into when they’re slack prevents the army ever gettin’ humdrum. There’s a chap by the name of Miggs, in ‘H,’ who brought down a girl’s motor-cap, bein’ under the impression that it was the newest thing in civilian hats, an’ another chap in the same company, who wore suspenders to keep his socks up till his colour sergeant found him out and ran him before the old man for bein’ in possession of civilian clothin’. The greatest dandy we ever had in ours, an’ the biggest surprise packet was a chap who joined us at ‘Gib.’ His name was Jackson—Walter Jackson, which is a rotten name because there’s no possibilities in it, except Wally.

“From his roof to his basement he was the neatest, dapperest, squarpushir you could hope to meet. All his clothes was specially altered to fit him like a glove. Used to wear socks with little fir-trees runnin’ up each side, silk shirts, ball-bearin’ braces, an’——(Smithy’s details as to underwear need not be enumerated).

“Nobby used to sit on his cot quite fascinated whilst Wally was gettin’ hisself up.

“‘You oughter been a girl, Wally,’ he sez.

“‘Think so?’ sez Wally, partin’ his hair with a little silver-mounted brush.

“‘I do,’ sez Nobby, ‘except,’ he sez, thoughtful, ‘that your dial ain’t all it might be.’

“‘It’s the best I’ve got,’ sez Wally, cheerful.

“‘Have you tried pummice stone?’ sez Nobby.

“Wally laughed. He was a good-natured sort of chap.

“‘Or parin’ bits off,’ sez Nobby.

“Wally looked at Nobby.

“‘Judgin’ by results,’ he sez, lookin’ at Nobby’s face very critical, ‘I ain’t encouraged to try the experiment.’

“‘I want none of your insultin’ remarks,’ sez Nobby, very severe.

“Wally was sprayin’ some scent over hisself—he was a perfect gentleman in his way, was Wally.

“‘If any of you chaps would like a pint,’ he sez, in his lordly style, ‘I’ll be down on the Waterport, at —.’

“Don’t trouble to tell us where,’ sez Nobby, ‘we’ll be able to smell you.’ If a feller keeps hisself nice an’ clean an’ tries to make hisself look smart, he’s bound to make more enemies than if he stole other chaps’ kits. It’s human nature. Therefore you can bet there were dozens of men layin’ for Wally. They used to call him Hikey, and the Duke of Westminster, an’ all sorts of insultin’ names, but he took it all good-natured.

“One night, in the canteen, Spud Murphy started gassin’ about Wally.

“‘He’s a disgrace to the regiment, that’s what he is.’

“He spoke so mysterious that we knew he’d got some yarn to spin.

“‘I could tell you somethin’ about him that’d make your bloomin’ hair stand up an’ beg,’ he sez.

“We waited patiently for Spud to go on, but he kept winkin’ and noddin’.

“‘Switch yourself off,’ sez Nobby, ‘If you’re waitin’ for us to give you free drinks for information received you’ve gone past the house—try back.’

“After a lot of hummin’ an’ hawin’ Spud told us.

“Some friend of his—a chap in the Marines—had seen Wally with a girl in a nice lonely part of the Europa-road.

“‘She’s a lady, too,’ sez Spud, very triumphant, a pukka Spanish lady, mantilla, fan an’ everythin’, an’ the way they was lookin’ at each other was too terrible for words.’

“‘Like how?’ sez Nobby.

“‘Like this,’ sez Spud, lookin’ languishin’.

“‘Ah, I see,’ sez Nobby, ‘drunk.’

“‘No, not drunk,’ sez Spud, ‘but just like this,’ an’ he gave another imitation.

“‘If they looked like that,’ sez Nobby, ‘you can bet pore old Wally had been eatin’ crab-apples—what’s the scandal part?’

“This was what Spud had been waitin’ for.

“‘She’s married,’ he sez.

“‘How do you know?’ asks Nobby.

“Then it came out that Spud had seen her one day when he was on guard at Government House an’ she was the Senora Maria Castiano de Piaz.

“‘Her husband’s a little chap, in the shipping line’, sez Spud.

“Afterwards me and Nobby had a talk about it.

“‘It’s no business of mine or yours,’ he sez, ‘the only real hard part about it is, that Wally ain’t you or me.’

“Nobby’s very broad-minded as I’ve always said, ‘it’s easy enough to shut up Spud—but if these scorpions* get talkin’ there’ll be trouble for Wally.’

* “Rock Scorpion” is the popular nickname of the excellent civilian citizens of Gibraltar.

“It’s curious how things happen,” moralised Smithy, “I once met a chap named Oggley. I’d never met anybody by the name of Oggley before, but before the day was over I’d met two other chaps named Oggley, an’ neither of ’em was related. It’s what they call the ‘odd chance.’ The next day was Sunday, an’ me an’ Nobby went for a walk to Europa Point. When we was crossin’ the Alameda, Spud Murphy came up.

“‘Hullo,’ he sez, ‘walkin’?’

“‘No,’ sez Nobby, ‘we’re ridin’ on the top of an omnibus.’

“‘I asked a civil question,’ sez Spud, ‘are you walkin’?’

“‘To be exact,’ sez Nobby, very polite, ‘at the present moment, we’re lyin’ down in bed—tell the slavey to call us in time for tea.’

“‘Well, I’ll walk along with you,’ sez Spud.

“‘I don’t mind,’ sez Nobby, ‘if we meet anybody we know, we’ll pretend you’re sellin’ matches.’

“‘Don’t you want me?’ sez Spud.

“‘I’d sooner take the dog for a run,’ sez Nobby, ‘but if you’re anxious to be seen in respectable society, you can come along.’

“Spud started straight away to talk about Wally, an’ ‘his carryin’ on.’

“‘I can’t think,’ he sez, ‘what a lady can see in that feller.’

“‘You wouldn’t,’ sez Nobby.

“‘He ain’t good lookin’,’ sez Spud.

“‘Except about the face,’ sez Nobby.

“‘He does things that I wouldn’t do,’ sez Spud.

“‘Washes hisself twice a day, for one thing,’ sez Nobby, ‘changes his shirt, an’ never gets drunk—yes, you’re right.’

“Spud was goin’ to say something rude but we suddenly turned a corner of the road, an’ he stopped dead, an’ grabbed my arm.

“‘There they are!’ he gasps.

“And sure enough there they was strollin’ ahead of us, arm in arm, my bold Wally an’ a girl.

“They heard our footsteps an’ Wally dropped her arm quick, and they both looked round.

“There was no doubt about it—she was pretty, with a fair complexion, like you see in lots of the Southern Spaniards, an’ eyes that laughed all the time.

“They stood still to let us pass an’ Wally just nodded. There’s something about Nobby that’s very fine at times. He didn’t stare at her, but just as he was passin’ he lifted up his hand to the salute, an sez, ‘Buenos días, señora.’

“She smiled, not a bit put out, and said, ‘Buenos días, señor.’ Then, with a twinkle in her eyes, she sez, ‘Habla usted español, senor?’

“‘Una poquito,’sez Nobby, very modest.

“We only checked our walk, because Nobby was afraid she’d find out he didn’t know much about the language.

“‘Adiós,’ he sez, an’ we went on.

“You see Nobby, like all the other chaps at ‘Gib.’ knew enough Spanish to say ‘Good day,’ and when anybody asked him, ‘Do you speak Spanish?’ to answer, ‘A little.’

“‘If she’d gone any further I’d have been stumped,’ he sez. We’d forgotten all about Spud, but he was absolutely twitterin’ with excitement.

“‘Did you see that?’ he sez, jumpin’ with joy. ‘What did I tell you? Did you catch what she sez when we went away?’

“‘Walter, mio,’ she sez, ‘why——’

“‘Spud,’ sez Nobby, very stern, ‘my advice to you is never interfere between man an’ wife.’

“‘She ain’t married to him!’ sez Spud.

“‘I didn’t say she was,’ sez Nobby. ‘I said man an’ wife—an’ he's the man!’

“If Spud had took that bit of advice it might have saved trouble. I’ve never understood why it was that he disliked Wally so much. Perhaps it was because—but it’s no use guessing. It’s pretty certain that Spud was one of the people who was down on Wally. It came to a head one night in the barrack room, when Wally happened to come in just as we was gettin’ ready for next day’s parade. Everybody was busy and messy with pipeclay an’ cleanin’ rags, an’ Wally, who looked as if he’d just come out of a glass case that had previously been used for holdin’ otter of roses, was a bit out of place.

“It was unfortunate that the subject we was discussin’ just as Wally came in was a bit Mike Hogan had seen in a Sunday newspaper how strict Spanish women are looked after by their husbands.

“‘Ho!’ sez Spud, very loud, as Wally came in, ‘a fat lot that chap on the newspaper knows.’

“‘What about?’ sez Wally, quite innocent.

"‘About Spanish women,’ sez Spud. ‘I know a thing or two,’ he sez. Nobby was polishin’ his buttons. He put his coat down an’ walked over to Spud.

“‘Dry up,’ he sez, quiet.

“‘What for?’ sez Spud.

“‘To save that funny face of yourn,’ sez Nobby.

“‘What’s the game?’ sez Wally, lookin’ very puzzled.

“‘Nothin’,’ sez Nobby, ‘hop it—you.’

“As Wally was walkin’ out the temptation was too strong for Spud.

“‘How’s Maria?’ he sez, an’ Wally whipped round.

“He came straight back to Spud.

“‘What did you say?’ he asks.

“‘How’s Maria?’ sez Spud, bold as brass.

“‘Meanin’,’ sez Wally, very careful, ‘the Donna Maria de Piaz?’

“‘That’s her,’ sez Spud.

“‘She’s very well,’ sez Wally, calmly. ‘How are you?’

“Spud grinned.

“‘I’m all right,’ he sez.

“‘That’s a lie!’ sez Wally.

“Smack!

“Nobody saw Wally’s arm move, but Spud was on the floor. It was a treat to see Wally strip. Took off his white gloves an’ folded ’em. Unbuckled his belt, an’ laid it on Nobby’s bed, undid his tunic, took it off, folded it inside out, an’ put that on the table—blowin’ the dust off the table. Slipped off his ball-bearin’ braces an’ rolled back his silk sleeves.

“Spud got up by this time, lookin’ dazed.

“‘If you’ll take of your boots, Spud,’ sez Wally, very anxious, ‘I’d be obliged, because I don’t want mine scratched.’

“‘What do you think you’re goin’ to do?’ sez Spud.

“‘I think I’m goin’ to give you a lot of trouble,’ sez Wally.

“‘You’re not big enough for me,’ sez Spud. ‘I can’t fight a little chap like you.’

“‘Don’t worry,’ sez Wally, ‘you’ll be feelin’ small enough this time ten minutes.’

“It’s no use my tryin’ to describe the scrap,” said Smithy. ‘‘You might say that Spud got up an’ was knocked down about twenty times, an’ at last he decided that the best thing to do was to stay down.

“‘Had enough?’ sez Wally.

“‘Thank you,’ sez Spud, who ain’t a bad feller at heart, ‘I’ve had two or three helpin’s too much.’

“Wally nodded an’ started dressin’ again just as careful as possible. When he’d finished he said:

“‘Make yourself as free as you like with me—I like it. Only keep other people’s names out of your mouth, Mister Spud.’

‘‘Spud was still dreamin’ when Wally left. He sat on the edge of his bed sayin’ nothing, but thinkin’ hard. Bimeby, he said in a wonderin’ sort of way:

“‘He belted me an’ down I went; I got up, an’ he belted me again. I tried to get home on his jaw, an’ got about half-way when the floor came up an’ hit me. The question is,’ sez Spud, musin’, ‘Have I lost my dash?’

“He got up slowly and went out of the room. He was gone ten minutes, an’ when he came back his other eye was black, but he was very cheerful.

“‘I’ve been to see Bill Hackett,’ he sez. ‘I whipped Bill with one hand, in a manner of speakin’; pushed him all over the room, an’ nearly knocked his head orf, so I can’t have lost me dash.’ He thought a bit an’ shook his head. ‘And Wally’s only about nine stone.’ He shook his head again. ‘It’s supernatural, that’s what it is.’

“A fortnight after that we had our cricket match against the R.A., an’ everybody turned up to see it.

“ Nobby an’ me was discussin’ the fieldin’ of Fatty Green, and was saying what a pity Jessop couldn’t see him, or George Robey, or some other chap who likes to see comic things, when Nobby stopped short an’ sez:

“‘Well, I’m blowed!’

“An’ well he might be, for who should come into the field but Wally, an’ walkin’ with him was the Spanish lady.

“They strode along as though they didn’t know that everybody was lookin’ at ’em, an’ sayin’ the same as Nobby.

“Wally spotted me, an’ walked the girl toward us.

“‘Hullo, Smithy,’ he sez, as cool as a meat store; ‘how’s things?’ Before I could get my voice he beckoned to someone, an’ I looked round to find it was Spud Murphy.

“‘This is Spud Murphy, a pal of mine,’ he sez to the girl in English, an’ she gave Spud a smile that’d make a bloomin’ aloe flower all the year round.

“‘I have been talking to Walter,’ she sez, an’ she spoke English as well as I could. ‘I’ve been telling him he ought to let you know.’

“‘I’m sure, ma’am,’ sez poor Spud, lookin’ very uncomfortable, ‘that I’m very sorry I’ve made any remarks that’s given offence——’

“She laughed.

“‘You're the only sufferer, Mr. Murphy,’ she sez,, ‘and I'm very angry with Walter, but I want to tell you a story.’

“‘I’m sure, ma’am, we all believe——’ sez Spud.

“‘Years ago,’ she sez, ‘I was left an orphan—oh, yes, I'm English—with only a brother a few years older to look after me. He was a good boy and a brave boy, for he worked hard when he was only a little chap to feed and clothe me. When he was seventeen he began to earn a lot of money, because a gentleman had seen him boxing at a gymnasium and “took him up.” It wasn’t very long before his name was in all the papers as a champion light-weight. When I was eighteen I met Senor de Piaz, my husband. He proposed to me, and I accepted him, for he is a charming gentleman—isn’t he, Walter?’

“Wally nodded.

‘“When I told Walter, he said, “You’re going to be a lady now, Ria, and I’m not going to disgrace you by remaining a professional boxer. I’ll go into a business where fighting means glory.” So he enlisted—didn’t you, Walter?’

“Wally nodded.

“‘I tried to persuade him, but he was determined, and so to keep his sister——’

“Spud started forward an’ looked very earnest at Wally.

“‘You ain’t “Featherweight Jackson,” are you?’ he sez.

“‘That’s me,’ sez Wally, with a grin.

“Spud drew a long breath.

“‘It appears,’ he sez, thoughtfully, ‘that when I took you on I was entertainin’ an angel unawares, in a manner of speakin’.’”