CHAPTER XVIII
FRANCE--AND AFTER
Nothing so very remarkable happened to Godfrey during those ten yearsof his life in India, or at least only one or two things. Thus once hegot into a scrape for which he was not really responsible, and got outof it again, as he imagined, without remark, until Isobel showed hercommon and rather painful intimacy with its details, of which sheappeared to take a somewhat uncharitable view, at any rate so far asthe lady was concerned.
The other matter was more serious, since it involved the loss of hisgreatest friend, Arthur Thorburn. Briefly, what happened was this.There was a frontier disturbance. Godfrey, who by now was a staffofficer, had been sent to a far outpost held by Thorburn with a certainnumber of men, and there took command. A reconnaissance was necessary,and Thorburn went out for that purpose with over half of the availablegarrison of the post, having received written orders that he was not toengage the enemy unless he found himself absolutely surrounded. In theend Thorburn did engage the enemy with the result that practically heand his force were exterminated, but not before they had inflicted sucha lesson on the said enemy that it sued for peace and has been greatfriends with the British power ever since.
First however a feeble attack was made on Godfrey's camp that he beatoff without the loss of a single man, exaggerated accounts of whichwere telegraphed home representing it as a "Rorke's Drift defence."
Godfrey was heartbroken; he had loved this man as a brother, moreindeed than brothers often love. And now Thorburn, his only friend, wasdead. The Darkness had taken him, that impenetrable, devouring darknessout of which we come and into which we go. Religion told him he shouldnot grieve, that Thorburn doubtless was much better off whither he hadgone than he could ever have been on earth, although it was true thesame religion said that he might be much worse off, since thither hisfailings would have followed him. Dismissing the latter possibility,how could he be happy in a new world, Godfrey wondered, having left allhe cared for behind him and without possibility of communication withthem?
In short, all the old problems of which he had not thought much sinceMiss Ogilvy died, came back to Godfrey with added force and left himwretched. Nor was he consoled by the sequel of the affair of which hewas bound to report the facts. The gallant man who was dead was blamedunjustly for what had happened, as perhaps he deserved who had notsucceeded, since those who set their blind eye to the telescope asNelson did must justify their action by success.
Godfrey, on the other hand, who had done little but defeat an attackmade by exhausted and dispirited men, was praised to the skies andfound himself figuring as a kind of hero in the English Press, whichafter a long period of peace having lost all sense of proportion insuch matters, was glad of anything that could be made to serve thepurposes of sensation. Ultimately he was thanked by the Government ofIndia, made a brevet-Major and decorated with the D.S.O., of all ofwhich it may be said with truth that never were such honours receivedwith less pleasure.
So much did he grieve over this unhappy business that his health wasaffected and being run down, in the end he took some sort of fever andwas very ill indeed. When at length he recovered more or less he wentbefore a Medical Board who ordered him promptly to England on sixmonths' leave.
Most men would have rejoiced, but Godfrey did not. He had little wishto return to England, where, except Mrs. Parsons, there were none hedesired to see, save one whom he was sworn not to see. This he couldbear while they were thousands of miles apart, but to be in the samecountry with Isobel, in the same town perhaps, and forbidden to hearher voice or to touch her hand, how could he bear that? Still he had nochoice in this matter, arranged by the hand of Fate, and went,reflecting that he would go to Lucerne and spent the time with thePasteur. Perhaps even he would live in the beautiful house that MissOgilvy had left to him, or a corner of it, seeing that it was empty,for the tenants to whom it had been let had gone away.
So he started at the end of the first week in July, 1914.
When his ship reached Marseilles it was to find that the world wasbuzzing with strange rumours. There was talk of war in Europe. Russiawas said to be mobilising; Germany was said to be mobilising; Francewas said to be mobilising; it was even rumoured that England might bedrawn into some Titanic struggle of the nations. And yet no accurateinformation was obtainable. The English papers they saw were somewhatold and their reports vague in the extreme.
Much excited, like everyone else, Godfrey telegraphed to the IndiaOffice, asking leave to come home direct overland, which he could notdo without permission since he was in command of a number of soldierswho were returning to England on furlough.
No answer came to his wire before his ship sailed, and therefore he wasobliged to proceed by long sea. Still it had important consequenceswhich at the moment he could not foresee. In the Bay the tidings thatreached them by Marconigram were evidently so carefully censored thatout of them they could make nothing, except that the Empire was filledwith great doubt and anxiety, and that the world stood on the verge ofsuch a war as had never been known in history.
At length they came to Southampton where the pilot-boat brought him atelegram ordering him to report himself without delay. Three hourslater he was in London. At the India Office, where he was kept waitinga while, he was shown into the room of a prominent and harassedofficial who had some papers in front of him.
"You are Major Knight?" said the official. "Well, here is your recordbefore me and it is good, very good indeed. But I see that you are onsick leave. Are you too ill for service?"
"No," answered Godfrey, "the voyage has set me up. I feel as well asever I did."
"That's fortunate," answered the official, "but there is a doctor onthe premises, and to make sure he shall have a look at you. Go down andsee him, if you will, and then come back here with his report," and herang a bell and gave some orders.
Within half an hour Godfrey was back in the room with a clean bill ofhealth. The official read the certificate and remarked that he wasgoing to send him over to the War Office, where he would make anappointment for him by telephone.
"What for, Sir?" asked Godfrey. "You see I am only just off my ship andvery ignorant of the news."
"The news is, Major Knight, that we shall be at war with Germany beforewe are twelve hours older," was the solemn answer. "Officers arewanted, and we are giving every good man from India on whom we can layour hands. They won't put you on the Staff, because you have everythingto learn about European work, but I expect they will find you a billetin one of the expeditionary regiments. And now good-bye and good luckto you, for I have lots of men to see. By the way, I take it forgranted that you volunteered for the job?"
"Of course," replied Godfrey simply, and went away to wander about theendless passages of the War Office till at length he discovered the manwhom he must see.
A few tumultuous days went by, and he found himself upon a steamercrossing to France, attached to a famous English regiment.
The next month always remained in Godfrey's mind as a kind of nightmarein which he moved on plains stained the colour of blood, beneath a skyblack with bellowing thunder and illumined occasionally by a blaze ofsplendour. It would be useless to attempt to set out the experience andadventures of the particular cavalry regiment to which he was attachedas a major, since, notwithstanding their infinite variety, they weresuch as all shared whose glory it was to take part with what the Kaisercalled the "contemptible little army" of England in the ineffableretreat from Mons, that retreat which saved France and Civilisation.
Godfrey played his part well, once or twice with heroism indeed, butwhat of that amid eighty thousand heroes? Back he staggered with therest, exhausted, sleepless, fighting, fighting, fighting, his mindfilled alternately with horror and with wonder, horror at the deeds towhich men can sink and the general scheme of things that makes thempossible, wonder at the heights to which they can rise when lifted bythe inspiration of a great ideal and a holy cause. Death, he reflected,could not after all mean so very much t
o man, seeing how bravely it wasmet every minute of the day and night, and that the aspect of it, oftenso terrible, did but encourage others in like fashion to smile and die.But oh! what did it all mean, and who ruled this universe with such aflaming, blood-stained sword?
Then at last came the turn of the tide when the hungry German wolf wasobliged to abandon that Paris which already he thought between his jawsand, a few days after it, the charge, the one splendid, perfect chargethat consoled Godfrey and those with him for all which they hadsuffered, lost and feared. He was in command of the regiment now, forthose superior to him had been killed, and he directed and accompaniedthat charge. They thundered on to the mass of the Germans who wereretreating with no time to entrench or set entanglements, a gentleslope in front, and hard, clear ground beneath their horses' feet. Theycut through them, they trod them down, they drove them by scores andhundreds into the stream beyond, till those two battalions, or whatremained of them, were but a tangled, drowning mob. It was finished;the English squadron turned to retreat as had been ordered.
Then of a sudden Godfrey felt a dull blow. For a few momentsconsciousness remained to him. He called out some command about theretirement; it came to his mind that thus it was well to die in themoment of his little victory. After that--blackness!