soon after this sands singled me out as the victim to attend him on a telephone-laying expedition. he warned me overnight, and i felt then a strange unwillingness for the honour; and when the hour arrived, i had not changed my mind. somewhere about half-past three i was shaken from sleep; and i jumped straight up and pulled on my clothes.
on the way from the dug-out i met sands wandering round the cook-house like an uneasy ghost. he seemed to be looking for something, and quite ignored my existence for several minutes. but he shot a glance at me more than once out of the corner of his eye, though he spoke no word and went on with whatever he was doing.
at last he came to himself: he pushed hands into his pockets, and started off into the dark. “come along, lake,” he said casually over his shoulder. and he faded away. those were the first words he spoke.
i hurried after him, loaded with a hand-reel. we picked a way through the dug-outs down into the valley. clear starlight was overhead; but[192] it was absolutely dark down there. i had no idea where we were going—no idea of the direction, nor of how far—but this i soon discovered. we were moving towards our right wing.
we took the communication trench which runs from our observing station, and followed it to the end. it emptied us into the foot of the big valley—the one leading to the trenches—but instead of turning up the valley, sands struck straight across. we passed the indian camp on our left hand: there was nothing to prove its existence, until the mules began to stamp. then we picked up a small path winding round the bottom of the hill. i knew it at once; i had passed that way a day or two before. sands continued to push on a pace or two in advance; and presently without turning his head or making any movement, he called back: “do you know where a battery is, lake?”
“yes, sir, i was there two days ago.”
“oh; it has moved since then.”
“then i have no idea where it is.”
“neither have i,” he said. and he sniggered.
“are we going to a battery?” i asked.
“of course we’re going to a battery. we have to lay a wire from headquarters to their observing station.”
“then why haven’t we brought a guide, sir?”
“what do we want a guide for? i was halfway there myself yesterday evening. i have a good general idea where the place is. i was given details last night. come on, lake, we mustn’t waste time. you can’t live where we’re[193] going after daybreak.” those were his last words. i began to have misgivings.
the walk soon worked away any drowsiness left in me, and i found myself wishing we had been on a more peaceful errand and in a more charitable land, for the night, or the morning rather, showed us countless wonders along the way. it was warmer than i had yet known it at that hour, too warm in fact for the hills we must scramble up; and the stars in rows and rows looked down on us with their unreadable eyes. one might look right into the heavens until one blinked and turned away, and one would discover still more distant golden worlds watching and watching and giving no sign.
the little winds which met us ran in and out of the bushes, flip-flapping the smaller leaves and just stirring the larger; and the scents of the few spring flowers, which had already opened their faces to the world, floated down from somewhere or other with a strength and sweetness the day never left them. the very pebbles seemed to scatter musically before our feet.
the dew was heavy on the bushes, and splashed my forehead and my hands with great cool drops. i caught at the leaves and rubbed my hands in them, and so had a first wash for the day. the musketry rolled on, and the lamps were a-winking in the bay, saying that on land and sea man was abroad; and i heard no sounds nor caught a movement of beast or bird of night. i looked and listened too. yet doubtless many a keen pair of eyes gleamed at us from the roots[194] of the bushes; but man was passing, man who had come in his hordes and had made the solitude unholy. the night called with stars and dew and silence; but we pushed on to prepare fresh destruction.
we came to a steep and narrow gully which turned at right angles from the path. “this is the shortest way to the old position of a battery, sir,” i said.
“well, lead the way, lake.”
“but you said they had moved, sir.”
“go on, lake, lead the way; it will bring us somewhere near them. one way is as good as another.”
he had no idea where the battery was! good god!
i led the way. the path was quite easy for a hundred yards and even farther; but afterwards it was necessary to clamber up some difficult cliffs. the undertaking in the dark was going to be severe. i came to a full stop and turned round.
“this is the way,” i said, and pointed up. sands eyed it pensively.
“is that the only way?”
“there is another longer but much easier road which sweeps round the hill. shall we take that?”
“yes, we shall. hurry up, lake. it’s late already: the sun will soon be up. we’ll be dead men if you waste time here much longer.”
his words sounded alarming; but he did not seem much worried at the prospect.
[195]
complete darkness favoured us still; but dawn would not long delay. i, too, considered it was time to hurry. we were back again on the main path in very few minutes, following it over the shoulder of a hill. the climb was stiff and soon made us steady the pace. wherever we went the country was the same, covered with low bushes and destitute of a single tree of any proportions. on the summit of the shoulder, the path turned to the left and climbed up to the top of the hill. i went on along it, for it led directly to the old position of a battery. but sands stopped, and i noticed him peering down into the next valley. “no, this is the way,” he said, all of a sudden. “i’m pretty certain the guns have been taken somewhere over here.” forthwith he started along a road which dipped straight down, and looked to run directly for gaba tepeh.
there was a wide view of the ocean from here, and from the waters drifted a salty breeze. it was a message that day was at hand. whether sands discovered poetry in that scene or not i cannot say; but he stood still a moment with his head on one side eyeing the shadowy waters. the reverie lasted brief time. “it will be light quickly now, lake,” he said. “if we don’t find the guns, we shall probably be dead in half an hour.”
in his voice there was neither anxiety nor even interest; he made the statement as one might remark the evening was excellent for a walk.
we said no more all the way down the slope.[196] i knew now he had no idea where we were, where we were going, nor what was to happen to us. and i knew also that gaba tepeh was straight ahead. i saw us lost among the wire entanglements, waiting to be sniped like crows when light should come that way. a tender sadness crept into my heart. no more for me the lambs would frolic, no more the jackass would laugh or the magpie jodel; no more, with joyous bark, would the family hound meet me at my gate. such joys were for others. i dropped a silent tear.
a stiff hill rose directly ahead, and the world was vaguely grey with the approach of dawn. sands looked at this hill, looked hard at it, and once or twice threw a glance at me from the tail of his eye. finally he swore feebly and started to climb it.
i do not know whether the road was old or not, it was wide and seemed smooth enough; but the sappers may have made it. they seemed able to throw up roads where they liked.
i went to the side of the way, and helped myself along by pulling at the bushes. the last poetic feelings left me here, and in their place came sentiments of utmost venom towards sands. for his own part he said nothing at all, but just breathed heavily, perspired and toiled on.
some distance up, the road circled backward and lost some of its steepness, and i could see that, though we never reached our goal, we should find ourselves presently in the neighbourhood of home. i began to take heart.
[197]
after we had gone some distance and the minutes had hurried by and the landscape was taking form round us, the path crossed at right angles a road, and to my astonishment the new track bore fresh gunmarks. sands gaped a moment, like myself in doubt, and too overcome for speech; but not long was such a veteran nonplussed. he looked me calmly in the face and said, easily, “i knew it was somewhere just about here, lake. we follow the road right up. a battery will be somewhere on top of the hill. we must hurry: the shrapnel will start any minute now.” he set the example. what could i say to such luck? i bowed my head and meekly followed.
we pursued the wheeltracks up the hill; but could not keep up the pace. farther on we ran into a camp—sappers, i think they were—and the guard told us guns had passed by during the night. it was now twilight, and the country was distinguishable. a hundred yards farther on we followed the gun tracks off the main path; and then, round a corner, we came on a gun and a waggon and a camp of artillerymen. a few men were up and about; but many were rolled still in the blankets. the guard told us the battery was not far away, and gave directions. in no time we were among the communication trenches. they ran this way and that, so that we were constantly asking the way. sleeping men lay along the bottom of the trenches, and it was hard to avoid them all; in truth, more than one string of oaths followed our progress. finally, we came on the battery observing station,[198] where was major felix with several men. i took a seat on a stone in the background while sands explained his errand. i do not know what he said, but the major’s face failed to light up with welcome. presently sands beckoned to me with a jerk of the head. “we are laying the line to here,” he said, as we came up. “we have to find the drum now. jones and i brought it half-way up the valley last night.”
so we were only starting operations!
the battery was on top of a large flat hill, and the guns were not yet properly dug in. gangs of men were shovelling hard as we arrived, and others were dragging behind them masses of bushes for covering the guns from aircraft observation. everyone worked at top speed; but even so, i could see they would never get matters finished by daybreak. sands began to lead me over a stretch of waste country, the usual waste land in fact—stunted bushes and coarse grasses, and here and there young flowers springing up. countless exploded turkish shells lay among the grasses; and in frequent places the turf was torn up by the heavy fire which swept there from time to time. this must have been the place sands had in his mind when he prophesied our destruction at dawn. but morning had broken quietly with the old roll of musketry and nothing more.
my gallant guide appeared to have lost his bearings again, for he kept no direct course. once we passed a dead infantryman among the grasses. the body had been overlooked, and[199] was fast decaying in the fierce suns, and the morning air was tainted for yards around. i was glad to get by. sands looked long and hard at the unpleasant sight; but he made no comment. presently i found we had come to the head of the gully we started to ascend earlier in the morning. “here we are,” sands said, coming to a halt. “the drum is somewhere down there,” and he waved his hand about the horizon. i looked down and realised the dance he had led me.
the country was difficult, but daylight helped us to find the best tracks. we stood a minute or two planning the descent down the ravines, and looking for the best passages through the tangled undergrowth. presently forward we went, slipping and sliding a great part of the way. there were times even when progress was made by climbing down rather than by walking. well, on we went, sliding and slipping and scraping our shins, and then, as suddenly as we had come upon the gun tracks, we came across the drum. i was ready for sands to say he knew it had been there all the time; but he was occupied finding breath and made no remark. we rested a little while with the fresh breezes moving about us. daylight had found a way into every recess; and one or two venturesome insects were abroad already, and one or two birds were singing. here and here, in ones, twos, in threes, were the rude graves of fallen soldiers. a couple of twigs bound to form a cross marked one, a piece of board with date and initials a second, an upright rifle a third.[200] already the dwarf hollies were closing round them: already the stunted laurels were bending over them.
then began the climb back. it had been difficult before, and the drum nearly settled matters. however, on the way we found an easier if longer track, and half up the hill the wire on the big drum ended, and we used the hand-reel for the remainder of the distance.
it did not take so long then, though we stopped at all the tallest bushes and tied the wire to them. a battery observing station was deserted on our arrival, and we fastened the wire to the ’phone and came away.
while we passed the open space on the hilltop for the third time, and as i had just muttered thanks for the morning calm, there came a whizz and a bang right overhead. a puff of smoke curled away in the high sky. the shell had missed us by a few yards. sands stopped, and i knew at once he was going to say something worthy of himself.
“you know, lake, i am very disappointed we came here. i wanted to see a real battle. this is only a sniping expedition.”
i said not a word. farther on he stopped to adjust the wire. he took it in his hand and began bounding into the air in an attempt to throw it over the top of a high shrub. i went up to him, but was waved off. “you can go on, lake, and get some breakfast. i shall follow in a minute or two.”
i sauntered on, expecting him to overtake me[201] very soon. a wall of cliff rose in front, and just there the platform bent abruptly round it. i strolled to the end of the path and turned the corner, and came in full view of the ocean.
last shadows had gone, nor did a star remain in the sky; and the thousand pure lights of the young morning fell about the ocean in cascades of silver and blue. all over the place small glad waves were bobbing—wavelets of silver, wavelets of azure; and on the broad bosom of those radiant seas rode the noblest fleet that ever had sailed that way. ships of war were there, and ships which had grown ancient in piping days of peace: leviathan and cockleshell waiting alike the call of morning.
the sun still lay abed, yet the world of foliage between me on my hilltop and the sea moved in a million shades of green as the breezes passed among them. it was like a great green hymn of praise going up to god.
and scores of tiny smoke clouds climbed from the breakfast fires along the beach, and at sea a hundred funnels were a-smoking too. up they rose in tones of blue, from blue they put on a coat of grey, and climbing on, faded into the joyous morning lights.
along the blue horizon was heaped a mountain of snowy clouds. so still it lay, so purely white it shone, it seemed the barrier to an enchanted land. i watched, and as i watched the sun rose up from bed and with his foremost glances melted the virgin bank. to right, to left it rolled apart, and lo! clad in the splendours of the dawn—came[202] forth the mountain isle of imbros. i bowed my head as one who stands on holy ground.
saffron and rose and purple and violet, and all the other shades of nature’s magic paintbox, floated or trembled or rippled about those still peaks. and film by film the virgin shroud about their feet lifted and lost itself in the sheen of shimmering seas.
i bowed my head, and would have put my shoes from off my feet.
sands’s step crunched among the rocks. i glanced round and found him level with me. straightway i forgave him the expedition. he had shown me this.
