CHAPTER III
THE AIR-RAID
I
"There wasn't no 'ome life in England until the Kayser starteda-droppin' bombs in people's back-yards," remarked Bindle oracularly."Funny thing," he continued, "'ow everybody seemed to find out 'owfond they was of settin' at 'ome because they was afraid o' goin'out."
Mr. Hearty looked at Mr. Gupperduck and Mr. Gupperduck looked at Mrs.Bindle. They required time in which to assimilate so profound anutterance.
Mr. Gupperduck had firmly established himself in the good graces ofMr. Hearty and the leaders of the Alton Road Chapel. He was a constantvisitor at the Heartys', especially at meal times, and at the chapelhe prayed with great fervour, beating all records as far as endurancewas concerned.
"I don't agree with you," remarked Mr. Gupperduck at length, "I do notagree with you. The Scriptures say, 'Every man to his family.'"
Mr. Hearty looked gratefully at his guest. It was pleasant to findBindle controverted.
"You know, Alf, you never been so much at 'ome," wheezed Mrs. Hearty,hitting her chest remorselessly. "You never go out on moonlightnights."
"You trust 'im," said Bindle. "'Earty an' the moon ain't never outtogether."
"We are told to take cover," said Mr. Hearty with dignity.
"An' wot about us pore fellers wot 'as to be out in it all?" demandedBindle, looking down at his special constable's uniform.
"You should commend yourself to God," said Mr. Gupperduck piously. "Hethat putteth his trust in Him shall not be afraid."
"Ain't you afraid then when there's a raid on?" demanded Bindle.
"I have no fear of earthly things," replied Mr. Gupperduck, liftinghis eyes to the ceiling.
"'E's all Gupperduck an' camelflage, ain't 'e, Millikins?" whisperedBindle to his niece. Then aloud he said: "Well, Mrs. B. ain't likeyou! She's afraid like all the rest of us. I don't believe much incoves wot say they ain't afraid. You ask the boys back from France.You don't 'ear them a-sayin' they ain't afraid. They knows too muchfor that."
"There is One above who watches over us all, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty,emboldened to unaccustomed temerity by the presence of Mr. Gupperduck.
"Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck, "our lives and our happiness are inGod's hands, wherefore should we feel afraid?"
"Well, well!" remarked Bindle, with resignation, "you an' 'Earty beatme when it comes to pluck. When I'm out with all them guns a-goin',an' bombs a-droppin' about, I'd sooner be somewhere else, an' I ain'ta-goin' to say different. P'raps it's because I'm an 'eathen."
"The hour of repentance should not be deferred," said Mr. Gupperduck."It is not too late even now."
"It's no good," said Bindle decisively. "I should never be able tofeel as brave as wot you are when there's a raid on."
"'Oh ye of little faith!'" murmured Mr. Gupperduck mournfully.
"Think of Daniel in the lions' den," said Mrs. Bindle. "And Jonah inthe--er--interior of the whale," added Mr. Hearty with great delicacy.
"No," remarked Bindle, shaking his head with conviction, "I wasn'tmade for lions, or whales. I suppose I'm a bit of a coward."
"I don't feel brave when there's a raid, Uncle Joe," said MillieHearty loyally. She had been a silent listener. "And mother isn'teither, are you, mums?" she turned to Mrs. Hearty.
"It's my breath," responded Mrs. Hearty, patting her ample bosom. "Itgets me here."
"That's because you don't go to chapel, Martha," said Bindle. "If youwas to turn up there three times on Sundays you'd be as brave as wotMr. Gupperduck is. Ain't that so?" he enquired, turning to Mr.Gupperduck.
"You're always sneering at the chapel," broke in Mrs. Bindle, withoutgiving the lodger time to reply. "It doesn't do us any harm, whateveryou may think."
"That's jest where you're wrong, Mrs. B.," remarked Bindle, settlinghimself down for a controversy. "I ain't got nothink to say againstthe chapel, if they'd only let you set quiet; but it's such an up an'down sort o' life. When you ain't kneelin' down a-askin' to be savedfrom wot you know you deserves, or kept from doin' wot you're nuts ondoin', you're a-standin' up a-singin' 'ymns about all sorts ofuncomfortable things wot you says you 'opes to find in 'eaven."
"You have a jaundiced view of religion, Mr. Bindle," said Mr.Gupperduck ponderously. "A jaundiced view," he repeated, pleased withthe phrase.
"'Ave I really?" enquired Bindle anxiously. "I 'ope it ain't catchin'.No," he continued meditatively, "I wasn't meant for chapels. I seem tobe able to think best about 'eaven when I'm settin' smokin' aftersupper, with Mrs. B. a-bangin' at the stove to remind me that I ain'tthere yet."
"Wot does me," he continued, "is that I never yet see any of yourchapel coves 'appier for all your singin' an' prayin'. Why is it? Lookat you three now! If you was goin' to be plucked and trussedto-morrow, you couldn't look more fidgety."
Instinctively each of the three looked at the other two. Mr.Gupperduck shook his head hopelessly.
"You don't understand, Joseph," murmured Mr. Hearty with mournfulresignation.
"I can understand Ruddy Bill gettin' drunk," Bindle continued,"because 'e do look 'appy when 'e's got a skin-full; but I can'tunderstand you a-wantin' to pray, 'Earty, I can't really. I only oncesee a lot o' religious people 'appy, an' that was when they got drunkby mistake. Lord, didn't they teach me an' ole 'Uggles things! 'Eblushes like a gal when I mentions it. 'Uggles 'as a nice mind, 'e'as.
"Well, I must be goin', 'Earty, in case them 'Uns come over to-night.You ought to be a special, 'Earty, there's some rare fine gals onPutney 'Ill."
"Do you think there'll be an air-raid to-night?" asked Mr. Gupperduckwith something more than casual interest in his voice.
"May be," said Bindle casually, "may be not. Funny things, air-raids,they've changed a rare lot o' things," he remarked meditatively. "Oncewe used to want the moon to come out, sort o' made us think of galsand settin' on stiles. Mrs. B. was a rare one for moons and stiles,wasn't you, Lizzie?"
"Don't be disgusting, Bindle." There was anger in Mrs. Bindle's voice.
"Now," continued Bindle imperturbably, "no cove don't want to go outan' set on a stile a-'oldin' of a gal's 'and: not 'im. When 'is job'sdone, 'e starts orf for 'ome like giddy-o, an' you don't see 'is noseagain till the next mornin'."
Bindle paused to wink at Mr. Hearty.
"If there's any gal now," he continued, "wot wants 'er 'and 'eld onmoonlight nights, she'll 'ave to 'old it 'erself, or wait till peacecomes."
"If you would only believe, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduckearnestly, making a final effort at Bindle's salvation. "'If thoucanst believe, all things are possible.' Ah!"
Mr. Gupperduck started into an upright position with eyes dilated as aloud report was heard.
"What was that?" he cried.
"That," remarked Bindle drily, as he rose and picked up his peakedcap, "is the signal for you an' 'Earty to put your trust in Gawd. Inother words," he added, "it's a gun, 'im wot Fulham calls 'TheBarker.'"
Bindle looked from Mr. Hearty, leaden-hued with fright, to Mr.Gupperduck, whose teeth were chattering, on to Mrs. Bindle, who waswhite to the lips.
"Well, I must be orf," he said, adjusting his cap upon his head at arakish angle. "If I don't come back, Mrs. B., you'll be a widow, an'widows are wonderful things. Cheer-o! all."
Bindle turned and left the room, his niece Millie following him outinto the passage.
"Uncle Joe," she said, clutching hold of his coat sleeve, "you will becareful, won't you?" Then with a little catch in her voice, she added,"You know you are the only Uncle Joe I've got."
And Bindle went out into the night where the guns thundered and theshrapnel burst in sinister white stabs in the sky, whilst over allbrooded the Great Queen of the heavens, bathing in her white peace thered war of pigmies.
II
Two hours later Bindle's ring at the Heartys' bell was answered byMillie.
"Oh, Uncle Joe!" she cried joyfully, "I'm so glad you're back safe.Hasn't it been dreadful?" Her lower lip quivered a little.
br /> "You ain't been frightened, Millikins, 'ave you?" enquired Bindlesolicitously.
"A soldier's wife isn't afraid, Uncle Joe," she replied bravely.Millie's sweetheart, Charlie Dixon, was at the front.
"My! ain't we gettin' a woman, Millikins," cried Bindle, putting hisarm affectionately round her shoulders and kissing her cheek loudly."Everybody all right?" he enquired.
"Yes, I think so, Uncle Joe, but," she squeezed his arm, "I'm so gladyou're back. I've been thinking of you all the time. Every time therewas a big bang I--I wondered----"
"Well, well!" interrupted Bindle, "we ain't goin' to be down-'earted,are we? It's over now, you'll 'ear the 'All Clear' in a few minutes."
Bindle walked into the Heartys' parlour, where Mrs. Hearty was seatedon the sofa half asleep.
"'Ullo, Martha!" he cried.
"Ah! Joe," she said, "I'm glad you're back. I'm afraid there's been alot of----" Her breath failed her, and she broke off into a wheeze.
Bindle looked about him curiously.
"'Ullo! wot's 'appened to them three little cherubs?" he enquired.
Mrs. Hearty began to shake and wheeze with laughter, and Millie stoodlooking at Bindle.
"Wot's 'appened, Millikins?" he enquired. "Done a bunk, 'ave they?"
"They're--they're in the potato-cellar, Uncle Joe," said Milliewithout the ghost of a smile. Somehow it seemed to her almost like areflection on her own courage that her father and aunt should havethought only of their personal safety.
Bindle slapped his leg with keen enjoyment. "Well, I'm blowed!" hecried, "if that ain't rich. Three people wot was talkin' about puttin'their trust in Gawd a-goin' into that little funk-'ole. Well, I'mblowed!"
"Don't laugh, Uncle Joe," began Millie, "I--I----" She broke off,unable to express what was in her mind.
"Don't you worry, Millikins," he replied as he moved towards the door."I'd better go and tell 'em that it's all right."
Mr. Hearty's potato-cellar was reached through a trap-door flush withthe floor of the shop.
With the aid of an electric torch, Bindle looked about him. His eyesfell on a large pair of scales, on which were weights up to 7 lbs.This gave him an idea. Carefully placing a box beside the trap-door,he lifted the scales and weights in his arms and, with great caution,mounted on to the top of the box. Suddenly he let the scales andweights fall with a tremendous crash, full in the centre of thetrap-door, at the same time giving vent to a shout. Millie camerunning in from the parlour.
"Oh! Uncle Joe, what has happened?" she cried. "Are you hurt?"
"It's all right, Millikins, knocked over these 'ere scales I did.Ain't I clumsy? 'Ush!"
Moans and cries could be distinctly heard from below.
"'Ere, 'elp me gather 'em up, Millikins. I 'ope I 'aven't broken thescales."
Having replaced the scales and weights on the counter, Bindleproceeded to pull up the trap-door.
"All clear!" he shouted cheerily.
There was no response, only a moaning from the extreme corner of thecellar.
"'Ere, come along, 'Earty. Wot d'you two mean by takin' my missis downinto a cellar like that?"
"Is it gone?" quavered a voice that Bindle assumed must be that of Mr.Gupperduck.
"Is wot gone?" he enquired.
"The bomb," whispered the voice.
"Oh, come up, Gupperduck," said Bindle. "Don't play the giddy goat inthe potato-cellar. Wot about you puttin' your trust in Gawd?"
There was a sound of movement below. A few moments later Mr.Gupperduck's face appeared within the radius of light. He had lost hisspectacles and his upper set of false teeth. His hair was awry and hisface distorted with fear. He climbed laboriously up the steps leadingto the shop. He was followed by Mr. Hearty, literally yellow withterror.
"Wot 'ave you done with my missis?" demanded Bindle.
"She--she--she's down there," stuttered Mr. Gupperduck.
"Then you two jolly well go down and fetch 'er up, or I'll kick youdown," cried Bindle angrily. "Nice sort of sports you are, leavin' awoman alone in an 'ole like that, after takin' er down there."
Mr. Hearty and Mr. Gupperduck looked at Bindle and then at each other.Slowly they turned and descended the ladder again. For some minutesthey could be heard moving about below, then Mr. Hearty appeared withMrs. Bindle's limp form clasped round the waist, whilst Mr. Gupperduckpushed from behind.
For one moment a grin flitted across Bindle's features, then, seeingMrs. Bindle's pathetic plight, his manner changed.
"'Ere, Millikins, get some water," he cried. "Your Aunt Lizzie'sfainted."
Between them they half-carried, half-dragged Mrs. Bindle into theparlour, where she was laid upon the sofa, vacated by Mrs. Hearty. Herhands were chafed, water dabbed upon her forehead, and a piece ofbrown paper burned under her nose by Mrs. Hearty.
She had not lost consciousness; but stared about her in a vague,half-dazed fashion.
Mr. Hearty and Mr. Gupperduck, who had retrieved his false teeth,seemed thoroughly ashamed of themselves. It was Mr. Hearty whosuggested that Mrs. Bindle should spend the night with them, as shewas not in a fit condition to go home.
As he spoke, the "All Clear" signal rang out joyfully upon thestillness without, two long-drawn-out notes that told of anothertwenty-four hours of safety. Mr. Gupperduck straightened himself, Mr.Hearty seemed to revive, and from Mrs. Bindle's eyes fled theexpression of fear.
"Well, I must be orf," said Bindle. "Look after my missis, 'Earty. Youcomin' along, Mr. G.?" he enquired of Mr. Gupperduck, as, followed byMillie, he left the room.
"It was sweet of you not to laugh at them, Uncle Joe," said Millie, asthey stood at the door waiting for Mr. Gupperduck.
"Nobody didn't ought to mind sayin' they're afraid, Millikins," saidBindle, looking at the serious face before him; "but I don't like acove wot says 'e's brave, an' then turns out to 'ave about as much'eart as a shillin' rabbit. Come along, Mr. G. Good night, Millikins,my dear. Are we down-'earted? No!" and Bindle went out into the night,followed by a meek and chastened Mr. Gupperduck.