Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills

Suddenly he jumped back farther, for from somewhere higher up there was a heavy report as of a cannon, followed by a loud echoing roar, and, gazing upward over a shoulder of the mountain, he had a good view of what seemed to be a waterfall plunging over a rock, to disappear afterwards behind a buttress-like mass of rock and ice. This was followed by another roar, and another, before all was still again.

“Must be ice and snow,” he said to himself; “can’t be water.”

Gedge was right; for he had been gazing up at an ice-fall, whose drops were blocks and masses of ice diminished into dust by the great distance, and probably being formed of thousands of tons.

“Bad to have been climbing up there,” he muttered, and he shrank a little farther away from the edge of the great chasm. “It’s precious horrid being all among this ice and snow. It sets me thinking, as it always does when I’ve nothing to do. – If I could only do something to help him, instead of standing here. – Oh, I say,” he cried wildly, “look at that!”

He had been listening to the regular dull dig, dig, dig, going on below the cornice, and to the faint rushing sound, as of snow falling, thinking deeply of his own helplessness the while, wondering too, for the twentieth time, where Bracy would appear, when, to his intense astonishment, he saw a bayonet dart through the snow into daylight about twenty feet back from the edge of the great gulf.

The blade disappeared again directly, and reappeared rapidly two or three times as he ran towards the spot, and then hesitated, for it was dangerous to approach the hole growing in the snow, the direction of the thrusts made being various, and the risk was that the weapon might be darted into the looker-on. Gedge stood then as near as he dared go, watching the progress made by the miner, and seeing the hole rapidly increase in size as the surface crumbled in.

Then all at once Gedge’s heart seemed to leap towards his mouth, for there was a sudden eddy of the loose snow, as if some one were struggling, the bayonet, followed by the rifle, was thrust out into daylight, held by a pair of hands which sought to force it crosswise over the mouth of the hole, and the next instant the watcher saw why. For the caked snow from the opening to the edge of the gulf, and for many yards on either side, was slowly sinking; while, starting from the hole in two opposite directions, and keeping parallel with the edge; of the cornice, a couple of cracks appeared, looking like dark jagged lines.

It was a matter of but a few moments. Gedge had had his lessons regarding the curving-over snow, and knew the danger, which gave him the apt promptitude necessary for action in the terrible peril.

Dropping his own rifle on the ice, he sprang forward, stooped, and, quick as a flash, caught hold of the barrel of the rifle lying on the surface just below the hilt of the bayonet. Then throwing himself back with all the force he could command, he literally jerked Bracy out from where he lay buried in the loose snow and drew him several yards rapidly over the smooth surface. The long lines were opening out and gaping the while, and he had hardly drawn his officer clear before there was a soft, dull report, and a rush, tons of the cornice having been undermined where it hung to the edge of the icefield, and now went downward with a hissing sound, which was followed by a dull roar.

“Ah-h-h!” groaned Gedge, and he dropped down upon his knees beside the prostrate snowy figure, jerked his hands towards his face, and then fell over sidewise, to lie motionless with his eyes fast closed.

When he opened them again it was to see Bracy kneeling by his side and bending over him, the young officer’s countenance looking blue and swollen, while his voice when he spoke sounded husky and faint.

“Are you better now?” he said.

“Better!” replied Gedge hoarsely as he stared confusedly at the speaker. “Ain’t been ill agen, have I! Here, what yer been doing to make my head ache like this here? I – I – I d’ know. Something’s buzzing, and my head’s going round. Some one’s been giving me – Oh, Mr Bracy, sir! I remember now. Do tell me, sir; are yer all right?”

“Yes, nearly,” replied the young officer, with a weary smile. “Twisted my ankle badly, and I’m faint and sick. I can’t talk.”

“Course not, sir; but you’re all right again now. You want something to eat. I say, sir, did you finish your rations?”

“No; they’re here in my haversack. You can take a part if you want some.”

“Me, sir? I’ve got plenty. Ain’t had nothing since when we had our feed together. I ain’t touched nothing.”

“Eat, then; you must want food.”

“Yes, I am a bit peckish, sir, I s’pose; but I can’t eat ’less you do.”

Bracy smiled faintly, and began to open his snow-covered haversack, taking from it a piece of hard cake, which he began to eat very slowly, looking hard and strange of manner, a fact which did not escape Gedge’s eyes; but the latter said nothing, opened his canvas bag with trembling hands, and began to eat in a hurried, excited way, but soon left off.

“Don’t feel like eating no more, sir,” he said huskily. “Can’t for thinking about how you got on. Don’t say nothing till you feel well enough, sir. I can see that you’re reg’lar upset. Ain’t got froze, have you – hands or feet?”

“No, no,” said Bracy slowly, speaking like one suffering from some terrible shock. “I did not feel the cold so much. There, I am coming round, my lad, and I can’t quite grasp yet that I am sitting here alive in the sunshine. I’m stunned. It is as if I were still in that horrible dream-like time of being face to face with death. Ha! how good it is to feel the sun once more!”

“Yes, sir; capital, sir,” said Gedge more cheerfully. “Quite puzzling to think its all ice and snow about us. Shines up quite warm; ’most as warm as it shines down.”

“Ha!” sighed Bracy; “it sends life into me again.”

He closed his eyes, and seemed to be drinking in the warm glow, which was increasing fast, giving colour to the magnificent view around. But after a few minutes, during which Gedge sat munching slowly and gazing anxiously in the strangely swollen and discoloured face, the eyes were reopened, to meet those of Gedge, who pretended to be looking another way.

The sun’s warmth was working wonders, and shortly after Bracy’s voice sounded stronger as he said quietly:

“It would have been hard if I had been carried back by the snow at the last, Gedge.”

“Hard, sir? Horrid.”

“It turned you sick afterwards – the narrow escape I had.”

“Dreadful, sir. I was as bad as a gal. I’m a poor sort o’ thing sometimes, sir. But don’t you talk till you feel all right, sir.”

“I am beginning to feel as if talking will do me good and spur me back into being more myself.”

“Think so, sir? Well, you know best, sir.”

“I think so,” said Bracy quietly; “but I shall not be right till I have had a few hours’ sleep.”

“Look here, then, sir; you lie down in the sun here on my poshtin. I’ll keep watch.”

“No! no! Not till night. There, I am getting my strength back. I was completely stunned, Gedge, and I have been acting like a man walking in his sleep.”

Gedge kept glancing at his officer furtively, and there was an anxious look in his eyes as he said to himself:

“He’s like a fellow going to have a touch of fever. Bit wandering-like, poor chap! I know what’s wrong. I’ll ask him.”

He did not ask at once, though, for he saw that Bracy was eating the piece of cake with better appetite, breaking off scraps more frequently; while the food, simple as it was, seemed to have a wonderfully reviving effect, and he turned at last to his companion.

“You are not eating, my lad,” he said, smiling faintly. “Come, you know what you have said to me.”

“Oh, I’m all right again now, sir; I’m only keeping time with you. There. Dry bread-cake ain’t bad, sir, up here in the mountains, when you’re hungry. Hurt your head a bit – didn’t you, sir?”

“No, no,” said Bracy more firmly. “My right ankle; that is all. How horribly sudden it was!”

“Awful, sir; but don’t you talk.”

“I must now; it does me good, horrible as it all was; but, as I tell you, I was stunned mentally and bodily, to a great extent. I must have dropped a great distance into the soft snow upon a slope, and I was a long time before I could get rid of the feeling of being suffocated. I was quite buried, I suppose; but at last, in a misty way, I seemed to be breathing the cold air in great draughts as I lay on the snow, holding fast to my rifle, which somehow seemed to be the one hope I had of getting back to you.”

“You did a lot of good with it, sir.”

“Did I?”

“Course you did, sir. Digging through the snow.”

“Oh yes, I remember now,” said Bracy, with a sigh. “Yes, I remember having some idea that the snow hung above me like some enormous wave curling right over before it broke, and then becoming frozen hard. Then I remember feeling that I was like one of the rabbits in the sandhills at home, burrowing away to make a hole to get to the surface, and as fast as I got the sand down from above me I kept on kicking it out with my feet, and it slid away far below with a dull, hissing sound.”

“Yes, sir, I heard it; but that was this morning. How did you get on in the night, after you began to breathe again? You couldn’t ha’ been buried long, or you’d ha’ been quite smothered.”

“Of course,” said Bracy rather vacantly – “in the night?”

“Yes; didn’t you hear me hollering?”

“No.”

“When you were gone all in a moment I thought you’d slipped and gone sliding down like them chaps do the tobogganing, sir.”

“You did call to me, then?”

“Call, sir? I expect that made me so hoarse this morning.”

“I did not hear you till I whistled and you answered, not long ago.”

“Why, I whistled too, sir, lots o’ times, and nigh went mad with thinking about you.”

“Thank you, Gedge,” said Bracy quietly, and he held out his hand and gripped his companion’s warmly. “I give you a great deal of trouble.”

“Trouble, sir? Hark at you! That ain’t trouble. But after you got out of the snow?”

“After I got out of the snow?”

“Yus, sir; you was there all night.”

“Was I? Yes, I suppose so. I must have been. But I don’t know much. It was all darkness and snow, and – oh yes, I remember now! I did not dare to move much, because whenever I did stir I began to glide down as if I were going on for ever.”

“But don’t you remember, sir, any more than that?”

“No,” said Bracy, speaking with greater animation now. “As I told you, I must have been stunned by my terrible fall, and that saved me from a time of agony that would have driven me mad. As soon as it was light I must have begun moving in a mechanical way to try and escape from that terrible death-trap: but all that has been dream-like, and – and I feel as if I were still in a kind of nightmare. I am quite faint, too, and giddy with pain. Yes, I must lie down here in the sunshine for a bit. Don’t let me sleep long if I drop off.”

“No, sir; I won’t, sir,” replied Gedge, as Bracy sank to his elbow and then subsided with a restful sigh, lying prone upon the snow.

“He’s fainted! No, he ain’t; he’s going right off to sleep. Not let him sleep long? Yes, I will; I must, poor chap! It’s knocked half the sense out of him, just when he was done up, too. Not sleep? Why, that’s the doctor as’ll pull him round. All right, sir; you’re going to have my sheepskin too, and you ain’t going to be called till the sun’s going down, and after that we shall see.”

Ten minutes later Bracy was sleeping, carefully wrapped in Gedge’s poshtin, while the latter was eating heartily of the remains of his rations.

“And he might ha’ been dead, and me left alone!” said Gedge, speaking to himself. “My! how soon things change! Shall I have a bit more, or shan’t I! Yes; I can’t put my greatcoat on outside, so I must put some extra lining in.”

Chapter Thirty Two

Only Human

As the sun gathered force in rising higher, a thin veil of snow was melted from off a broad patch of rock, which dried rapidly; and, after a little consideration, Gedge went to Bracy’s shoulders, took fast hold of his poshtin, and drew him softly and quickly off the icy surface right on to the warm, dry rock, the young officer’s eyes opening widely in transit, and then closing again without their owner becoming conscious, but, as his head was gently lowered down again upon its sheepskin pillow, the deep sleep of exhaustion went on.

“Needn’t ha’ been ’fraid o’ waking you,” said Gedge softly, and looking down at the sleeper as if proud of his work. – “There, you’ll be dry and warm as a toast, and won’t wake up lying in a pond o’ water. – Now I’ll just have a look round, and then sit down and wait till he wakes.”

Gedge took his good look round, making use of Bracy’s glass, and in two places made out bodies of white-coated men whose weapons glinted in the sun shine; but they were far away, and in hollows among the hills.

“That’s all I can make out,” said Gedge, closing the glass and replacing it softly in the case slung from Bracy’s shoulders; “but there’s holes and cracks and all sorts o’ places where any number more may be. Blest if I don’t think all the country must have heard that we’re going for help, and turned out to stop us. My! how easy it all looked when we started! Just a long walk and a little dodging the niggers, and the job done. One never thought o’ climbing up here and skating down, and have a launching in the snow.”

Gedge yawned tremendously, and being now in excellent spirits and contentment with himself, he chuckled softly.

“That was a good one,” he said. “What a mouth I’ve got! I say, though, my lad, mouths have to be filled, and there ain’t much left. We were going, I thought, to shoot pheasants, and kill a sheep now and then, to make a fire and have roast bird one day, leg o’ mutton the next, and cold meat when we was obliged; but seems to me that it was all cooking your roast chickens before they was hatched. Fancy lighting a fire anywhere! Why, it would bring a swarm of the beauties round to carve us up instead of the wittles; and as to prog, why, I ain’t seen nothing but that one bear. Don’t seem to hanker after bear,” continued Gedge after a few minutes’ musing, during which he made sure that Bracy was sleeping comfortably. “Bears outer the ’Logical Gardens, nicely fatted up on buns, might be nice, and there’d be plenty o’ nice fresh bear’s grease for one’s ’air; but these here wild bears in the mountains must feed theirselves on young niggers and their mothers, and it’d be like being a sort o’ second-hand cannibal to cook and eat one of the hairy brutes. No, thanky; not this time, sir. I’ll wait for the pudden.”

Human nature is human nature, which nobody can deny; and, uncultivated save in military matters, and rough as he was, Bill Gedge was as human as he could be. He had just had a tremendous tramp for a whole day, a sleepless night of terrible excitement and care, a sudden respite from anxiety, a meal, and the glow of a hot sun upon a patch of rock which sent a genial thrill of comfort through his whole frame. These were the difficulties which were weighing hard in one of the scales of the young private’s constitution, while he was doing his best to weigh down the other scale with duty, principle, and a manly, honest feeling of liking for the officer whom he had set up from the first moment of being attached to the company as the model of what a soldier should be. It was hard work. Those yawns came again and again, increasing in violence.

“Well done, boa-constructor,” he said. “Little more practice, and you’ll be able to swallow something as big as yourself; but my! don’t it stretch the corners of your mouth! I want a bit o’ bear’s grease ready to rub in, for they’re safe to crack.

“My! how sleepy I am!” he muttered a little later. “I ain’t been put on sentry-go, but it’s just the same, and a chap as goes to sleep in the face of the enemy ought to be shot. Sarve him right, too, for not keeping a good lookout. Might mean all his mates being cut up. Oh! I say, this here won’t do,” he cried, springing up. “Let’s have a hoky-poky penny ice, free, grashus, for nothing.”

He went off on tiptoe, glancing at Bracy as he passed, and then stooped down over a patch of glittering snow, scraping up a handful and straightening himself in the sunshine, as he amused himself by addressing an imaginary personage.

“Say, gov’nor,” he cried, “you’ve got a bigger stock than you’ll get shut of to-day. – Eh? You don’t expect to? Right you are, old man. Break yer barrer if yer tried to carry it away. Say; looks cleaner and nicer to-day without any o’ that red or yeller paint mixed up with it. I like it best when it’s white. Looks more icy. – What say? Spoon? No, thank ye. Your customers is too fond o’ sucking the spoons, and I never see you wash ’em after. – Ha! this is prime. Beats Whitechapel all to fits; and it’s real cold, too. I don’t care about it when it’s beginning to melt and got so much juist. – But I say! Come! Fair play’s a jewel. One likes a man to make his profit and be ’conimycal with the sugar, but you ain’t put none in this.

“Never mind,” he added after a pause, during which the Italian ice-vendor faded out of his imagination; “it’s reg’lar ’freshing when you’re so sleepy. Wonder what made them Italians come to London and start selling that stuff o’ theirs. Seems rum; ours don’t seem a country for that sort o’ thing. Baked taters seems so much more English, and does a chap so much more good.”

He walked back to the warm patch of rock, looked at Bracy, and then placed both rifles and bayonets ready, sat down cross-legged, and after withdrawing the cartridges, set to work with an oily rag to remove all traces of rust, and gave each in turn a good polish, ending by carefully wiping the bayonets after unfixing them, and returning them to their sheaths, handling Bracy’s most carefully, for fear of disturbing the sleeper. This done, he began to yawn again, and, as he expressed it, took another penny ice and nodding at vacancy, which he filled with a peripatetic vendor, he said:

“All right, gov’nor; got no small change. Pay next time I come this way.”

Then he marked out a beat, and began marching up and down.

“Bah!” he cried; “that ice only makes you feel dry and thirsty. – My! how sleepy I am! – Here, steady!” he cried, as he yawned horribly; “you’ll have your head right off, old man, if you do that. – Never was so sleepy in my life.”

He marched up and down a little faster – ten paces and turn – ten paces and turn – up and down, up and down, in the warm sunshine; but it was as if some deadly stupor enveloped him, and as he kept up the steady regulation march, walking and turning like an automaton, he was suddenly fast asleep and dreaming for quite a minute, when he gave a violent start, waking himself, protesting loudly against a charge made against him, and all strangely mixed up the imaginary and the real.

“Swear I wasn’t, Sergeant!” he cried angrily. “Look for yerself. – Didn’t yer see, pardners? I was walking up and down like a clockwork himidge. – Sleep at my post? Me sleep at my post? Wish I may die if I do such a thing. It’s the old game. Yer allus ’ated me, Sergeant, from the very first, and – Phew! Here! What’s the matter? I’ve caught something, and it’s got me in the nut. I’m going off my chump.”

Poor Gedge stood with his hands clasped to his forehead, staring wildly before him.

“Blest if I wasn’t dreaming!” he said wonderingly. “Ain’t took bad, am I? Thought old Gee come and pounced upon me, and said I was sleepin’ on duty. And it’s a fack. It’s as true as true; I was fast asleep; leastwise I was up’ards. Legs couldn’t ha’ been, because they’d ha’ laid down. Oh! this here won’t do. It was being on dooty without arms.”

Drawing himself up, he snatched his bayonet from its scabbard, and resumed his march, going off last asleep again; but this time the cessation of consciousness descended as it were right below the waist-belt and began to steal down his legs, whose movements became slower and slower, hips, then knees, stiffening; and then, as the drowsy god’s work attacked his ankles, his whole body became rigid, and he stood as if he had been gradually frozen stiff for quite a minute, when it seemed as if something touched him, and he sprang into wakefulness again, and went on with his march up and down.

“Oh, it’s horrid!” he said piteously. “Of course. That’ll do it.”

He sheathed his bayonet, and catching up his rifle, went through the regular forms as if receiving orders: he grounded arms; then drew and fixed bayonet, shouldered arms, and began the march again.

“That’s done it,” he said. “Reg’larly woke up now. S’pose a fellow can’t quite do without sleep, unless he got used to it, like the chap’s ’oss, only he died when he’d got used to living upon one eat a day. Rum thing, sleep, though. I allus was a good un to sleep. Sleep anywhere; but I didn’t know I was so clever as to sleep standing up. Wonder whether I could sleep on one leg. Might do it on my head. Often said I could do anything on my head. There, it’s a-coming on again.”

He stepped to the nearest snow and rubbed his temples with it before resuming his march; but the relief was merely temporary. He went to Bracy’s side, to see that he was sleeping heavily, and an intense feeling of envy and longing to follow his officer’s example and lie down and sleep for hours nearly mastered him.

“But I won’t – I won’t sleep,” he said, grinding his teeth. “I’ll die first. I’m going to keep awake and do my dooty like a soldier by my orficer. I’d do it for any orficer in the ridgement, so of course I would for the gov’nor, poor chap! He’s watched over me before now. – Yes, I’m going to keep on. I shall be better soon. Ten minutes would set me right, and if there was a mate here to take my post I’d have a nap; but there ain’t a pardner to share it, and I’ve got to do it on my head. Wonder whether I should feel better if I did stand on my head for a minute. Anyhow, I ain’t goin’ to try.”

Gedge spent the next ten minutes in carefully examining his rifle; then he turned to Bracy, and soon after he took out the latter’s glass and swept the country round, to find more groups of men in motion.

“Why, the place is getting alive with the beggars,” he growled. “We shall be having some of ’em cocking an eye up and seeing us here. Don’t know, though; they couldn’t make us out, and even if they did we look like a couple o’ sheep. I’ve got to look out sharp, though, to see as we’re not surprised. Almost wish three or four would come now, so as I could have a set-to with ’em. That would wake me up, and no mistake. – Ah! it’s wonderful what one can see with a bit or two o’ glass set in a brown thing like this. – Ah! there it is again.”

Gedge lowered the glass and started violently, for the feeling of sleep was now overmastering.

“Nearly dropped and smashed his glass,” he said petulantly, and, laying down his rifle, he closed the little lorgnette slowly and carefully with half-numbed fingers, which fumbled about the instrument feebly.

“He’d ha’ – he’d ha’ – fine – tongue-thrashing when he woke – foun’ glass – smashed.”

Gedge sank upon his knees and bent over the sleeper, fumbling for the strap and case to replace the glass.

“Where ha’ you got to?” he muttered. “What yer swinging about half a mile away for? Ah! that’s got yer,” he went on, aiming at the case with a strange fixity of expression. “Now then – the lid – the lid – and the strap through the buckle, and the buckle – done it – me go to sleep – on dooty, Sergeant? Not me! – I – I – ha-h-h!”

Poor Gedge was only human, and his drowsy head sank across Bracy’s breast, so wrapped in sleep that the firing of a rifle by his ear would hardly have roused him up.

Chapter Thirty Three

Like a Dying Dog

The sun was rapidly going down towards the western peaks, which stood out dark and clear against the golden orange sky, when Gedge opened his eyes and began to stare in a vacant way at a little peculiarly shaded brown leather case which rose and fell in regular motion a few inches from his nose. He watched it for some minutes, feeling very comfortable the while, for his pillow was warm; though it seemed strange to him that it should move gently up and down. But he grew more wakeful a minute later, and told himself that he knew why it was. He and two London companions had made up their minds to tramp down into Kent for a holiday, and to go hop-picking, and they slept under haystacks, in barns, or in the shade of trees; and at such times as the nights were cool and they had no covering they huddled together to get warm, taking in turns that one of the party should lie crosswise and play pillow for the benefit of his two companions.