Читать книгу The Seed of Empire - Fred M. White - Страница 14

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The American appeared to be as much at home there as if he had been passing weeks in the trenches. There was something almost supercilious in the way in which he glanced about him; he might have been seeking acquaintances in Hyde Park. Then all at once his manner changed, and he advanced with outstretched hand in Bentley's direction. But their curiosity was fleeting, for, now that dusk had fallen and the attack was beaten off, they were utterly worn and weary, done to the world, and conscious only of the wild hunger gnawing at them. They lay in the mud with their backs to the trench, with eyes only for the little knot of men who had pushed through the precious food.

"How did you get here?" Kemp asked languidly.

"In the metaphor of my country, search me," the American said. "I am too old a citizen of the world to be surprised at anything. But I don't mind telling you that I am supposed to be with the German forces. I came from the lines behind Mons with half a dozen swagger staff guides to see the contemptible English wiped out. But something went wrong with the little programme, and all those pretty boys found themselves mixed up with some of your Highlanders, who were too dense, I guess, to know when they were beaten, and, when I'd sorted myself out of the fog, I was kind of a prisoner. But they were decent boys and quite good friends as soon as they understood what had happened. Then they got busy again, and I drifted about till some of your A.S.C. men took me in tow, and here I am."

It all sounded quite plausible, the more so as Venables dipped his hand in the pocket of his big coat and produced half a dozen packets of cigarettes, which he distributed with fine impartiality. He was complimentary, too, and made no secret of the way in which his sympathies lay.

"Oh, you jarred them up all right," he said. "They were talking about you chaps this morning. Couldn't make out how it was that you were holding out. I guess they thought that, as you were little bits of recruits—"

Kemp and Bentley were no longer listening. They had eyes only for the beef and biscuit which was being handed out none too liberally. A big man with his arm in a sling and a bandage round his head limped painfully along the trench. Bentley and Kemp struggled to their feet, but the other held up his hand.

"Don't get up," he said. "I have come to see how you men are getting along. You've done splendidly to-day, and I shall see that your good work is not forgotten. What's all this I hear about a German Maxim? Did any of you see it? Unfortunately, you seem to have no officer left."

"I'm afraid that's true, sir," Kemp said. "That's the man over there, the man with the red hair."

Colonel Lord Hailsham had dropped down on an empty cartridge box and listened with a grim smile to the story of Ginger's achievement. He listened perhaps a little suspiciously to Venables' account of his adventures.

"Very fine," he said. "Very fine indeed. And do you mean to say that you haven't got a sergeant left?"

"I don't believe there's one, sir," Bentley replied.

"Really. Well, it can't be helped; you in this trench must do the best you can with what you've got. I'm sorry to tell you that we are absolutely cut off, with no chance so far as I can see of any relief. The other half of the battalion may manage to force their way through, but they will be very fortunate if they do. And there is worse than that. We are absolutely without ammunition, either for the machine guns or the rifles. And two of our batteries have been abandoned on the hill yonder, with all their ammunition and ours, too. If I had a map I could show you exactly where—"

"Excuse me, my lord," Venables interrupted. "But I happen to know the place you mean. I was there this morning. I saw those abandoned guns as late as at four o'clock this afternoon. They are in the spur of a wood, and I don't believe the Germans know a bit about them. Of course, I am a correspondent and strictly neutral, but somehow I can't forget that a century or two ago my ancestors lived in your old country. And, if you like, and you really want to have a dash for those guns, well, I'm going that way, and if your men follow me it isn't for me to go out of my way to make myself unpleasant."

"Is that what you want, sir?" Kemp asked eagerly.

"I think so. After all, it's only a question of a few hours for us. And if a dozen or so of you could get up to those gnus and blow them up with their ammunition and bring back some of our cartridges, well, I shan't stop you."

It was quiet in the trenches now, for the men had fed like wolves, and the company there were greatly thankful for the American's cigarettes. In the dim light their black and grimy faces were turned eagerly towards the big figure seated there on the empty cartridge box. It was so quiet, too, that every word he said carried all along the trench.

"Of course, we'll do it, sir," Kemp said. "And I am quite sure that every man will volunteer."

A sudden shout went up, and in an instant the thin line of khaki was on its feet. The colonel smiled approvingly, then he sharply commanded the men to sit down again. But there was no annoyance on his face; nothing in him but pride and sorrow in the knowledge that these were his boys.

"Yes, that's the spirit," he murmured. "Now, I believe that you two are old O.T.C.'s. You will regard yourselves for the moment as acting lieutenants. And that red haired man yonder who is so obviously listening to all I am saying had better become a sergeant for the moment. Come here, Smith."

With his jaunty smile and ready audacity, Ginger jumped to his feet and saluted smartly. The colonel prided himself on the fact that there was no man in his regiment whom he did not know by name. Ginger was no exception to the rule.

"I am proud of you, Smith," the colonel said. "I am proud of you all for the matter of that. Some day perhaps you will know what you have accomplished in the last twenty-four hours. You have managed somehow to hold up a whole German Army Corps, and you have saved the guns. And if you had retreated nobody could have possibly blamed you. Well, we're all in it together, and if we find ourselves tomorrow back with our brigade it will be nothing less than a miracle. That's all I've got to say. I suppose this gentleman won't mind my suggesting in the circumstances that I am taking some little risk."

"These two men of yours know me, my lord," Venables said.

Kemp confirmed the statement eagerly enough. Neither he nor Bentley was blind to the danger that lay before them; they knew well enough that the next few hours would probably see the end of the Musketeers. It was good and sweet to know that they and the rest of them had struck such a blow for the flag, to know that their work would be talked about in England, and that their names would not be forgotten by grateful countrymen. They had to die, but there was no reason why the end should come before they had given the enemy a further taste of their quality.

There was no one to lead them either. The colonel had other work to do, and already he was making his way cautiously towards the second line of trenches. They had to rely now on Venables' memory of the ground they had to cover, and on the little handful of men whom it would be Kemp's duty to select. As senior to Bentley, he was now in command of the hundred men, all that were left of that gallant company.

"Well, thank the Lord I'm goin' ter be one of 'em," Ginger struck in. "You might leave it ter me, sir, ter select the men. I knows 'em better'n you. An' they'll do exactly wot' I tells 'em. I wouldn't be out o' this for anything. And if we do come through all right, an' something tells me as we will—"