Читать книгу Smithy Abroad - Barrack-Room Sketches - Edgar Wallace - Страница 8

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THOSE who make a close study of the human mind, and the devious processes of its working, inform me that years of research and study do not return such satisfactory results as a week’s acquaintance with the average regiment of the line.

When, as I sometimes do, deliver a lecture on the adventures of war-corresponding, I am invariably asked by somebody at the end of the lecture what, in the course of my wild and questionable career, I might regard as being my most exciting adventure, I invariably reply my introduction to semaphore signalling. For in the early days, when men switched off the wagging flag, and took to waving their arms like windmills to give expression to their thoughts, it chanced that I was practising the new method unconscious of the fact that there was passing on the road below the hill on which I stood, a wild Irish regiment. I thought nothing of the incident save that the men regarded me with scowls and mutterings.

That night a picket of the Royal Artillery rescued me from a gang of infuriated Irishers, who had risen to slay “the black-hearted Orangeman who mocked them by crossing himself as good Catholics passed.” Those who understand the gyrations that semaphore signalling calls into play, will appreciate the incident. Discussing this matter with Smithy, passed by easy stages to theology—theology in words of one syllable.

Now it is a very serious fact that there are two subjects taboo in a barrack room; the King and religion. There may be regulations, and probably are, which prohibit such discussions, but regulations are nothing where two or three soldiers are gathered together. Rather is it from an innate sense of delicacy that these matters are avoided. As Kipling will tell you, there are other dangerous matters, such as casting doubt upon your comrade being “legitimate issue,” as the lawyers have it. This is an indiscretion invariably settled with bloodshed, great uproar, a hurrying of armed men, and sometimes a frog-marching procession to the guard room. Harking back to religion:

“When we was at the Cape,” said Smithy, “we was stationed at Wynberg. ‘B’ Company was detached for duty at Simonstown, which, as everybody knows, is one of the cushiest* stations abroad. There’s a couple of guards, one on the artillery barracks an’ one on the magazine kloof, an’ as in them days there was only room enough outside the barracks to fall in one company, it follered there wasn’t much drill. There’s a few engineer chaps, a lot of Garrison Artillery, an’ whips of sailors.

* Cushiest, i.e., easiest.

“There was a couple of the medical staff, a corporal of the Army Service Corps, an’ an Army pay chap. It was what Nobby called an ideal Army corps, where nobody did any work, an’ the food was good.

“As a matter of fact there wasn’t enough work, an’ the consequence was that one half the detachment took to drink an’ the other half got serious mainly because of Stevens—Jimmy Stevens. Stevens is a chap who’s a big thinker, an’ most of his thinkin’ is about what’s goin’ to happen to him when he dies. I never knew a chap to change his religion as often as Jimmy has.

“He started Church an’ turned Wesleyan; then he become a Baptist, an’ then went back to the Church. Then he became a Plymouth Brother, an’ a Congregationalist, an’ a Christian Sciencer, an’ a Unitarian. He’s only had two checks, once when he tried to be a suffragette under the impression it was a new religion, an’ once when he tried to turn R.C.

“He went up an’ saw Father O’Leary, an’ pulled a long face, an’ said he’d seen the errer of his ways, but the Father cut him short.

“‘Phwat are ye wantin’?’ sez Father O’Leary. ‘Is it religion ye want, ye ecclesiastical chandler’s shop? or is it the flat of me boot ye’re askin’ for?’

“You see, Father O’Leary knew everything about everybody, an’ all he knew about Jimmy wasn’t worth worryin’ about. Soon after that the regiment went to Burma, an’ Jimmy took up Buddhist outfit. Used to sit on his bed cot for hours fixin’ his eye on the ceilin’ an’ saying nothin’.

“‘What are you doin’?’ sez Nobby.

“‘Searchin’ me soul,’ sez Jimmy, very solemn.

“‘You search it very careful,’ sez Nobby, fiercely, ‘an’ if you find a blackin’ brush marked No. 7,143, it belongs to Private Clark.’

“Nobby had been losin’ things.

“Well, I was tellin’ you about Simonstown. Three weeks after we arrived Jimmy got mighty serious on the question of his soul. What always worried him was he could never find any kind of sec’, Christian, Mahommedan, or Buddhist, that gave him all the peace of mind he wanted without his havin’ to do somethin’ he didn’t want.

“‘I’ve tried ’em all,’ he sez, very melancholy, ‘it’s no good bein’ a Christian because you’ve got to give up drinkin’; no good bein’ a Buddhist, cos you’ve got to give up eatin’; no good bein’ a Jew unless you’re born that way, or made so, and Mahommedism the same.

“I don’t know where he got the idea from unless it was from one of them encyclo-who-is-its that used to come out in monthly parts, but he got struck with the idea of bein’ a ‘cynic.’

“It’s a foreign word as far as I can understand that means grouser. The way to be a cynic is to keep on sayin’ ‘Ah, yes! I dessay!’ in a pityin’ kind of voice when anybody makes a pleasant observation. Or suppose you’re writin’ home to your girl an’ Jimmy knew it, he’d talk about absence making the heart grow fonder—fonder of the other feller. He quite enjoyed this sort of thing for a month, an’ used to go cynicin’ round, till one day Nobby an’ him fell out over this question of a bit of cynicisation concernin’ Nobby’s feet. Nobby’s very sensitive about his feet, an’ I must say he’s got a lot to be sensitive about.

“Jimmy wasn’t very much hurt, but the wall where his head hit was a bit dented. But it changed Jimmy’s religion. I felt sorry for him in a way. You see, he’d gone through the whole lot, an’ there was nothin’ for him to be except a Socialist—an’ that’s politics.

“For a fortnight or more he used to mouch about barracks an’ go wanderin’ about the hills by hisself, an’ then one night, when me an’ Nobby was takin’ a friendly pint in the Artillery canteen Jimmy stuck his head in the door very mysterious, an’ beckoned us out. We went. He was waitin’ for us on the little slopin’ square that leads down to the hospital.

“‘Smithy,’ he sez, ‘an’ Clark—I don’t bear no ill-will.’

“‘Quite right,’ sez Nobby.

“‘But,’ sez Jimmy, ‘feelin’ you take a bit of an interest in me I want you chaps to do me a favour.’

“‘Owin’,’ sez Nobby, ‘to me bein’ put under stoppages for a new shirt——’

“‘It ain’t money,’ sez Jimmy, bitterly, ‘it’s a sympathisin’ an’ friendly act.’

“‘Certainly,’ sez Nobby, very relieved.

“‘You see before you,’ sez Jimmy, mournful, ‘a man that’s misunderstood, a man that’s suspected——’

“‘I found them socks,’ sez Nobby, generously, ‘an’ I beg your pardon for thinkin’——’

“‘A man that’s suspected of tryin’ new religions for what he can get out of ’em,’ sez Jimmy, ‘so I’ve decided to commit suicide.’

“‘Go on?’ sez Nobby, ‘you’re jokin’?’

“‘No,’ sez Jimmy sadly, ‘I’ve seen enough of this life—I’ve had my whack of joys an’ sorrows. I’ve sipped the—the, you know what I mean. I’ve seen the wonders of India, an’ a dam rotten hole it is, too. I’ve been to Burma, I’ve been to Africa, I’ve got me second class certificate—there’s nothin’ worth livin’ for.’

“He went on like this walkin’ back to barracks, an’ kept it up for half an hour, an’ at last he told us his plans. He was goin’ to chuck hisself into the sea, an’ he wanted me an’ Nobby to come along an’ see fair play.

“The next mornin’ it was goin’ to be—at four o’clock, before anyone was about.

“Nobby was fairly excited, an’ started askin’ questions, an’ makin’ suggestions.

“‘How are you goin’ to do it?’ he sez, very anxious. ‘Walk straight in an’ get it over—or go out in a boat an’ drop overboard! A very good way,’ sez Nobby, musin’, ‘is to get two big stones, or pinch a couple of weights from the meat store——’

“‘We’ll see,’ sez Jimmy, rather coldly, I thought; ‘you wait till to-morrer—you don’t mind gettin’ up at four?’

“‘Not a bit,’ sez Nobby, eager, ‘make it three if you like.’

“‘I’ll wake you,’ sez Jimmy, very gloomy.

“‘Don’t worry,’ sez Nobby. ‘I’ll stay awake all night so as not to miss this treat—I mean so as not to miss helpin’ a friend.’

“I don’t know whether Nobby did stay awake, but at any rate he was the first one up. We had to move quiet for fear of wakin’ the other chaps. I forgot to tell you that Jimmy was actin’ company storeman, so he had a little room to himself. It took Nobby quite a time to wake him up, an’ when he did, Jimmy sat up rubbin’ his eyes an’ askin’ what was the matter.

“‘Come on, old feller,’ whispers Nobby, ‘it’s time for the job.’

“Jimmy didn’t look too pleased, but he struggled into his clothes. He was an awful long time dressin’, but we got him out at last. It wasn’t two minutes walk to the beach, but Jimmy said he thought we’d best go a mile or so along the road where nobody could see us.

“‘That’s right,’ sez Nobby, admiringly; ‘we’ll go up by the fort; there’s a rare current there for pullin’ a chap under—can you swim he sez, anxious.

“‘Yes, a bit,’ sez he, a bit sulky.

“‘Then,’ sez Nobby, ‘we’d better tie your hands.’

“‘You’ll do nothin’ of the sort!’ snarled Jimmy.

“He was mighty hard to please was Jimmy. First one place wouldn’t suit because there was no rocks, an’ another place wouldn’t do because it was too near the sewer. Then he wanted a bit of beach near where there was some grass an’ flowers.

“‘So,’ he sez, ‘when they find me body it will be reclinin’ just as though I was asleep amidst the simple flowers.’

“‘You get on with the suicide,’ sez Nobby, very short, ‘leave me an’ Smithy to make you ornamental.’

“He was a terrible time before he decided, then he chose a place, an’ started takin’ his coat off.

“‘What’s that for?’ sez Nobby.

“‘I don’t want to get my clothes wet, do I?’ snaps Jimmy.

“‘Of course not,’ sez Nobby, brightenin’ up. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you, Jimmy—I suppose me an’ Smithy can have our pick, can’t we? I’d like your jacket, if you don’t mind.’

“But Jimmy was slowly peelin’.

“‘It’s a far, far better thing that I do—or am goin’ to do—perhaps, than I have ever done before,’ he sez.

“‘Hurry up,’ sez Nobby.

“‘Here lies one who fought an’ failed,’ sez Jimmy, takin’ off his weskit. ‘One cut off in the prime of his strength, so to speak. A bit of wreckage—human wreckage—driven by a coldhearted world——’

“‘Get your trousis off,’ sez Nobby.

“‘I say this,’ sez Jimmy, standin’ on the beach in his shirt an’ shiverin’. ‘I say this, that it would be a brighter, happier universe if love and kindness was shown to the unfortunate——’

“‘Good-bye, old feller,’ sez Nobby. ‘It’s all for the best.’

“Jimmy walked towards the water, an’ a little wave struck his feet an’ he nipped back.

“‘My word! it’s cold,’ he sez, with his teeth chatterin'. ‘An’ they call this sunny Africa!’

“‘Go on—don’t lose heart,’ urged Nobby. ‘Them trousis are mine, Smithy,’ he hissed; ‘an’ keep your hand out of the pockets.’

“‘Farewell, life,’ sez Jimmy, ‘farewell, Army; farewell, “B” Company: farewell——’

“‘Say etcetra,’ sez Nobby.

“‘Farewell, Captain Umfreville; farewell, Sergeant-Major Towns; farewell, Colour-Sergeant——’

“‘Look here, Jimmy,’ sez Nobby, very angry, ‘you don’t expect me an’ Smithy to sit here whilst you call the roll, do you?’

“‘It’s a far, far better thing that I no now,’ sez Jimmy.

“‘Do it!’ sez Nobby. ‘Don’t talk about it. Be a man.’

“Jimmy looked at him an’ looked at the water.

“‘I will,’ he sez. ‘I will be a man. Give me them trousis.’

“‘What for?’ sez Nobby.

“‘Is it manly?’ sez Jimmy. ‘Is it manly to seek a watery grave? Is it manly to slink out of the world an’ me for duty to-morrer? Is it manly to give everybody a lot of trouble? No! Give me them trousis.’

“Nobby was struck all of a heap.

“‘What!’ he sez, very fierce. ‘Do you mean to say that you ain’t goin’ to do it?’

“‘No,’ sez Jimmy, very firm. ‘It’s cowardly. It come over me like a flash when I was lookin’ at the water. Somethin’ seemed to say to me——’

“‘Look here,’ sez Nobby, very earnest. ‘Me an’ Smithy specially got up to give you a hand, didn’t we?’

“‘You did,’ sez Jimmy, ‘for which I’m much obliged.’

“‘Never mind about that,’ sez Nobby. ‘You thought it all over, and considered this was the best thing you could do, didn’t you?’

“‘Yes,’ sez Jimmy, ‘In me excitement I thought—’

“‘Never mind about your excitement,’ sez Nobby; ‘but you lured us down here to see fair play an’ assist, didn’t you?’

“‘I did,’ sez Jimmy, shiverin’ in his shirt.

“‘Very well,’ sez Nobby, grabbin’ him by the scruff of his neck. ‘Very well, then, me an’ Smithy are goin’ to assist you.’

“‘Leggo,’ sez Jimmy.

“‘Not so,’ sez Nobby, holdin’ him tight. ‘I’m not goin’ to see a chap spoil a good mind. Catch hold of his legs, Smithy.’

“‘Help! Murder!’ yells Jimmy, strugglin’ hard.

“‘It’s a far, far better thing,’ sez Nobby, ‘that me an’ Smithy are doin’ now than we have ever done before. In with him!’

“It’s a very easy beach. You can wade out for a dozen yards without wettin’ your knees. But Jimmy got wet because he fell on his back. You might have heard his yell ten miles away as he jumped up an’ made for the beach.

“‘No, you don’t,’ sez Nobby. ‘Think of yourself lyin’ as if asleep amongst,’ he sez ‘the buttercups an’ daisies an’ pig lilies.’

“So we chucked him in again.

“He yelled blue murder this time, but he might have saved himself the trouble.

“‘Nobody can hear you,’ sez Nobby. ‘Farewell, Jimmy; Farewell, Stevens; farewell, Buddhist; farewell, Wesleyan ; farewell, follow-the-band; farewell, passive resister——’

“Jimmy made a dart, an’ Nobby jumped to catch him, an’ missed him, an’ Jimmy scuttled along the beach in his shirt as hard as he could lick.

“‘Stop!’ shouts Nobby. Then ‘Pick up them clothes, Smithy,’ he sez. An’ we grabbed Jimmy’s kit an’ pelted after him.

“He got on to the main road an’ run like mad me an’ Nobby follerin’.

“Through the little bit of town an’ up the hill to the main guard he run, an’ bimeby we could see the sentry an’ the sergeant of the guard comin’ out.

“‘Stop that man!’ shouts Nobby. ‘He's an escaped suicide! ’