Читать книгу The Seed of Empire - Fred M. White - Страница 12

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The word had gone round the camp, and every tent there hummed like a swarm of bees. There was no fuss or bustle or confusion, only the knowledge that the time for action had come, and that the morrow would see the Musketeers on the soil of France. It was some time before midnight when the first company marched out in the direction of Harrow station. Then another and another followed until the tents were deserted and ready for the next battalion to come along, and it was not long past 2 when the whole regiment, in four darkened trains, slid out or Waterloo station on its way to Southampton. There were many units amongst them now who had come from the dockside and the workshops on the Thames, for there had been a heavy call on the Musketeers to find officers for the new army. Bentley and Kemp might have reckoned themselves amongst them had they not set their face against all temptation. They were too keen to fight for that. They knew that promotion meant many months in some English camp whilst the rest of the battalion was upholding the honour of the Empire in the trenches.

It was a hot night, and the moon was lifting high over the waters long before Southampton was reached. With its drawn blinds and its six men crowded on either side of the carriage, the compartment in which Kemp and Bentley found themselves was horribly stifling. Here were all sorts and conditions of men from the 'Varsity type to Ginger Smith squeezed up in the corner, and making night hideous with his mouth organ. And yet they were all friends together, all on perfect equality, no man asserting his superiority. The chaff was fast and furious; it was more like a bank holiday crowd at Margate than a choice selection of the cream of England's manhood going out to face the reeking hell of war. Still, Bentley and his friend drew a breath of relief as the train pulled up in the dock siding, and it was possible to breathe the pure atmosphere again.

Just a few yards away lay the long black transport, already packed with troops. There was hardly a man there who had more kit than he stood up in, for all this had been promised them on the other side. In the dim distance, riding in the water, were the half-dozen destroyers told off to accompany the transports on their voyage.

It was all so new and exciting that few indeed had the slightest desire to go down below. Soon after daybreak they would be somewhere in France, so they lay on the deck in the moonlight, chattering to one another with the zest of schoolboys engaged in some new adventure. Ginger Smith had procured a bucket from somewhere, and was using it as a seat. There was a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and a smile of deep content on his impudent, freckled face.

"Now, this is what I call a bit of alright," he said. "It's very nice to think o' the Government goin' out o' their way ter send us on a little 'oliday trip like this. I never 'ad one before, 'cept once when I went dahn ter Morget for the day on one o' them steamers from Tilbury dock. It was the time wot I picked up a toff's purse on the golf links, an' 'e give me a quid for wot 'e called me honesty."

"How much was in that purse, Ginger?" Bentley asked.

"Fifteen bob," Ginger grinned. "Per'aps if there'd 'ave bin more there wouldn't 'ave bin so much honesty abaht. Well, I gives myself a treat, an' off I goes 'on a beano ter Morget. An' when I gets there a cove offers me a 'ole bathin' machine ter meself for a bob. So I bithed in style and catched a cold as larsted me for three months. It's all wot ye're accustomed to. I don't so much mind it now, but it was a very painful shock at the time."

All this with a perfectly grave face and not so much as a twinkle in Ginger's blue eyes. He was perfectly at home, as indeed he would have been anywhere. There were many who gathered round to listen to Ginger's nonsense and unfailing flow of spirits that nothing could damp and nothing could undermine. And the time was coming when his airy nonsense was destined to brighten many a cold and bitter night, and make those in retreat before the German host forget for the moment the bitterness of defeat. But no cloud hung over the Musketeers just now. They were humming across the sea in the direction of the fight, and on either side of them, like sinister shadows, the black destroyers crept along. And so the hours passed until the dawn came and Boulogne Harbour was reached.

"I suppose we shall get some breakfast presently," Kemp suggested. "Not that I can see any sign of it."

But breakfast was not yet. There was a long, hot march over the hill and the long sand dunes on the other side before an halt was called and a biscuit per man served out. As far as the eye could reach were the rolling sands, and just inside them long stretches of vivid green, with here and there turf still finer and greener than the rest. On the rising ground flanked by a clump of trees stood a long, imposing pavilion. Ginger rubbed his eyes as he lighted a cigarette and struggled to his feet.

"Well, if this don't make me fair 'omesick," he said. "'Ere, you blokes, wot d'yer think o' that? Ever see anything like it before, Bill? Konky, what's that place yonder wif a tarpaulin roof? What price Richmond?"

"Why, strike me if it ain't a caddy shed!" the man addressed as Konky exclaimed. "Fairly brings the tears in me eyes, it do. Why, I can shut me peepers an' feel the 'arf crohns droppin' inter me fist. Two rounds an' a 'arf, I says, an' he gives me four bob. Say, mate, it is a golf course, ain't it?"

"That's right," Kemp laughed. "I suppose you've heard of Le Touquet. Well, this is Le Touquet."

"Yus, an' 'Arry Vardon laid it aht," Ginger said. "Good course, ain't it, sir? Blimme, if them bloomin' French ain't gone up in my estimation."

"It is a good course," Kemp said. "Probably the best on the Continent. Ever played here, Harold?"

"It's little golf I've played the last few years," Bentley said. "But it looks all right."

"Yes, and it is all right. I had three weeks of it at Easter, and never played better in my life. Who would have thought then that we should be here on such an errand now? A month or two ago golf was the only game I was really keen on. And now, if you put a club in my hands, I wouldn't take the trouble to drive a ball with it. I seem to have lost all my taste for that sort of thing. But it is a good course."

A bugle sounded somewhere in the distance, and once more the battalion were on the march again. They passed along in the baking sunshine over the hard, dry roads like a piece of living machinery. They were tired and hungry, but not one man fell out, not one dropped by the way. There were those amongst them, too, who a few weeks before had been mere weeds, flotsam and jetsam of the great city, half-starved, and weak and incapable of anything in the way of exertion from the sheer need of food. And now here they were, strong and well set-up, alert and eager, clear-eyed and clean-skinned, real live men, better for the storm that had broken over Europe. It was quite late in the afternoon before the battalion reached the village, where they found billets in a score or two of barns, and lay there on the clean straw waiting the arrival of the supply wagons. A major came along, and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"Nothing the matter with this little lot," he said to his subaltern. "By Gad, the old regiment is going to keep up its reputation. Not one man left behind after a 12-mile march, and the sun at least 90 in the shade! We'll show those chaps presently how far it is to Tipperary!"