Captain Desmond, V.C.
CHAPTER XI.
YOU DON'T KNOW DESMOND.
"Suffer with men, and like a man be strong."--MYERS.
Frank Olliver, looking remarkably fresh and cool in a holland gown ofsevere simplicity, greeted him from the verandah with a flour-coveredhand. At the sound of hoofs, her ready brain had sprung to the rightconclusion, and she hurried out to save him the necessity ofdismounting. She had learned to know the value of minutes to ahard-worked man.
"Geoff told me," she said, a rare seriousness veiling the laughter ofher eyes. "It's cruel bad news, but you mustn't dream of being anxiousyet awhile, Theo, man. I'll be round by half-past eleven sharp; staytill you two are through with your work; rest this afternoon and comeon again at seven, till morning. You'll just take one clear night inbed before I let you go shares in _that_ part o' the work. You cantrust him to me, can't you, though I _am_ a mad Irishwoman? I'llpromise not to be waking up the patient to take his sleeping draught,or any such cleverness!"
Her nonsense dispelled Desmond's gravity. "I can trust you as far asthat, I think!" he answered with a laugh; "but I won't have youknocking yourself up again over this. The lad's my subaltern, and it'smy business. You shall take to-night, though, if you've a mind to, andmy best thanks into the bargain. God alone knows where we should allbe without you."
"Just precisely where you are at present, no doubt!" But the softenedtone betrayed her appreciation of his honest praise. "It's just a badhabit you've got into, that's the truth, and I've not the heart tobreak you of it either. But 'tis no time now for playing ball withcompliments. I'm busy over a cake. My cook has a pain, an' swears 'tischolera. An' what with dosing him, an' trying to convince him he's afool, and seeing after Geoff's tiffin, I'll be melted to one tear-droppresently; but the good man'll have to dine at Mess to-night."
Desmond gathered up his reins, and she waved to him as he rode away.
Punctually at the half-hour she entered the sick-room--cool,practised, business-like, and took over her case as composedly as anytrained nurse. For in those early days nursing was as persistent afeature of the hot weather as the punkah itself, and her skill hadbeen acquired in a hard school.
The Boy had been installed, for greater comfort, in Desmond's own bed;and he greeted her with a faint smile of recognition.
"Poor, dear old fellow," she murmured tenderly, pushing the damp hairfrom his brow; "wait only till the ice comes, an' we'll pull you roundfinely, never fear."
His lids fell under her soothing touch, and sprinkling her fingerswith lavender water she passed them across and across his forehead; alook in her eyes the while that none save her "brother officers" hadever seen there; a look such as her children might have seen, had shebeen so blest.
Among acquaintances Mrs Olliver passed for a masculine woman,boisterous and good-humoured, though somewhat lacking in the lesserproprieties and affectations which passed for delicacy of feeling. Butwith all her angularity and mannish ways, she was a fine motherwasted: and in her heart she knew it. There are too many such amongus. A mystery of pain and unfulfilled hope which there seems nojustifying, save that at times the world is the gainer by theirindividual loss; and Frank Olliver, being denied the blessedness ofchildren, mothered all the men of her regiment, the formidable Colonelnot excepted.
Having charmed her patient into a light sleep, she made a noiselesstour of the room, smiling at the revelation of Paul Wyndham's hand inthe exquisite neatness wherewith all things had been set in order. Atowel pinned to the punkah frill brought the faint relief of movingair nearer to Denvil's face. In the hasty manner of its pinning Theo'sworkmanship stood revealed, and the smile deepened in her eyes. Sheknew each least characteristic of these her grown children; knew, andloved them, with a strong unspoken love.
Her next move brought her to the thermometer. It registered 95 deg. Along while after sundown the mercury might drop three degrees,certainly not more. She cast an anxious glance at the sleeper, and herquick eye caught the lagging of the punkah, broken by fitful jerks,which denotes that the coolie--squatting on his heels in theverandah--is pulling the inexorable rope in his dreams.
Opening the outer door and letting in a blast as from the mouth ofhell, she reasoned with that much-enduring human machine in a forcibleIrish whisper, that set the towel flapping and billowing like a flagin a wind. The room was none the cooler for his exertions, but in suchintensity of heat mere movement of the air serves to preventsuffocation.
Mrs Olliver sat down beside her patient and her mind reverted to herown domestic calamity. She wondered with a simple practicalwonderment, devoid of fear, whether or no she had a case of cholera inher compound. To-morrow it would be well to ascertain the truth; andin the meantime she dismissed the matter from her mind.
Before tiffin was over at the station Mess, Wyndham made hisappearance, and with a friendly nod of welcome took the reins out ofher hands. But by seven o'clock she was back at her post; and one lookat Harry's flushed face and unseeing eyes convinced her that the nexttwelve hours would make a high demand upon her energies, and herresolute hopefulness of heart.
Desmond came in before Mess. His eyes were grave and anxious, and formany minutes he stood looking down upon the boy in silence; the slimuprightness of his figure emphasised by the close-fitting whiteuniform, with its wide splash of scarlet at the waist. Then hecrossed to the table and studied the chart, that strange hieroglyph,like a negative print of forked lightning, so full of dread meaning tothose who can read it aright. The latest entry was 106 deg.
"You saw Mackay?" he asked, under his breath.
"I did."
"You're in for a hard night of it. I'd better stay up and help."
"I'll not have you at any price," she answered bluntly.
He frowned. But the fact that he did not insist spoke volumes to herunderstanding heart.
"Swear you'll send Amar Singh to wake me if it seems necessary."
"I will--no fear."
"He'll sit handy, just outside, all night and help you in any possibleway. He's a jewel at times like this. I'll look in again when I gethome."
"Come back early," she commanded with a sudden smile, "and have asolid night of sleep. It's plain your needing it badly."
"Thanks. I believe I am. I'll make a fresh start afterwards and takemy fair share of the work. Jove! It's a furnace of a night. There goesthe trumpet; I'll be back before long."
His words were truer than he knew.
Shortly after nine o'clock, while Mrs Olliver was persuading hersemi-delirious patient to swallow two tablespoonfuls of chicken-broth,quick footsteps and the clink of spurs made her sit suddenly upright,with a listening look in her eyes. She knew the country of her servicewell enough to be prepared for anything at any hour of the day ornight--and she was barely surprised when, two minutes later, Desmondstood before her in his forage cap, his sword buckled on over hismess-jacket and held high to prevent it from clanking.
"What is it?" she asked in a hurried whisper. "A beacon fire alight?"
He nodded, and passed a handkerchief across his forehead, for he hadcome at lightning speed.
"A raid of sorts--out Hangu way. Can't tell if it'll be a big thing ornot. The whole garrison's ordered out."
It was a matter of seconds, and he spoke in a breathless rush.
"I dashed on ahead to give you a few instructions. Olliver is orderingGriselda to be saddled and brought across at once. If the affair looksserious we'll send an orderly back to fetch a doolie from thehospital, come on here for you and the Boy, and see you safely to theFort, where you must stay till further orders. Get all possiblenecessaries together, and be ready to leave at a moment's notice."
"If we move him to-night, Theo, 'twill be--the end of it all."
A spasm of pain crossed his face.
"I hope to God it mayn't be necessary. But we must take our chance ofthat. It won't be safe for you to have a light in the house, withevery door open, and the city full of _budmashes_.[24] Can you managewith just a night-light carefully s
creened?"
[24] Bad characters.
"Sure I can. I'll manage to see with me fingers well enough!"
"Right! Amar Singh'll sit outside the door. He'll not sleep a wink, Ipromise you."
The suspicion of a tremor in her brave smile caught at his heart. Hepressed her shoulder with a reassuring hand.
"Sorry Olliver couldn't see you before leaving," he said gently."Hullo, there's Paul; I must be off. God bless you for a plucky woman,Frank. We'll all get back--sometime, never fear." And in an instantshe was alone.
Nothing remained but to blow out the lamp and set the screenednight-light on a table farthest from the outer doors. Its uncertainflicker served to make darkness visible and through the darkness shecrept back to her station by the bed.
Denvil, who had fallen into an unrefreshing sleep, stirred and tossedwith broken mutterings that threatened every moment to break out intothe babble of delirium; and for a while she sat beside him in astunned quietness, her ears strained to catch the sounds that came upfrom below--the hasty gathering of men and horses and mules; thejingle of harness; brisk words of command; the tramping of many feet.Comforting sounds, since they spoke of the protective presence ofEnglishmen.
But those that followed were less reassuring, for they were sounds ofmassed movement, of an organised body under way: the muffled tread ofinfantry, the cheerful clatter of cavalry at the trot. She knew theorder of their going, to the minutest detail. A vision of it all wasphotographed upon her brain as she had witnessed it these many timeswithin the past ten years; and perhaps owing to the mental vividnessof her race, custom had not yet ground the edge off the poignantmoment of departure.
Rapidly, inexorably, the sounds retreated toward the hills; and asthey drew farther away she listened the more intently. It was as ifher spirit, freed from her body, followed the men she loved, till theunheeding night absorbed them--till hearing, stretched to its utmostlimit, could catch no lightest echo of sound.
Then silence, intensified by stifling darkness, enveloped her,pressing in upon heart and brain like an invisible force that held herprisoner against her will.
The practical side of her fought squarely against this obsession ofthe intangible; but it persisted and prevailed. The mocking shadowscrowded about her, compelled her to a discomfortable realisation ofher solitude in a station needing the perpetual alertness of armed mento ensure peace and safety. For Kohat city boasted a creditableaverage of bad characters and murder cases--a corpse more or less onthe Border being of no more consequence than the fall of a sparrow;and the Waziris had of late been unusually daring in regard toGovernment horses and carbines. Nor was it an unknown thing for themto creep past the sentries on very black nights into the stationitself; and for all her courage, Frank Olliver was by no meansfearless. The two are a contradiction in terms. Only the unimaginativeare fearless, and only the keenly imaginative, capable of feeling fearin every fibre, ever scale the heights of true courage.
Save for the wakeful vigilance of sentries, the huddled bungalows ofthe cantonment lay below her empty as a handful of shells on a loneshore; and in the overpowering stillness each least sound stood outcrisp and clear-cut as twigs against a winter sunset; the fitfulrustle of bedclothes; Rob breathing peacefully in a distant corner;the whisper of the punkah; the querulous creaking of the rope answeredby a whine from the back verandah, where a resigned coolie swayed abasket of damp straw, packed with bottles of milk and soda-water forDenvil's consumption during the night.
The reiteration of these still small voices grew distracting as thewhisper of an unseen clock. They dominated the silence, paralysingthought, and compelling her to note every change in their pitilessregularity.
Resolved to break the spell by the only definite action available, shedecided to prepare for the emergency which her brain refused to face.But on rising she was arrested by a voice from the bed--a voice not ofspeech but of song, a snatch from a burlesque the Boy had played induring the winter:
"My name it is Abanazar If you want me you needn't go far; I'm sure to be found, if you'll only look round, Number Seventy, Suddar Bazaar."
Denvil's deep baritone, distorted to a guttural travesty of itself,rose to a shout on the ascending notes of the last line. Then, withoutpause for breath, came the voice of speech--hurried, expressionless,heartrending to hear.
"Safe for an encore, that--what? Should ha' been Desmond, though. Seehim in tights you'd think he could slip through a wedding-ring. Doneit too, by Jove! Better than horses that, in the long-run.--How aboutGrey Dawn?--Confound your luck! Always a dead cert till I lay anythingon. Hold hard, though.... I'm done with all that now.... Wouldn't goback on Desmond--not for a mine of gold. _You_ don't knowDesmond;--wait till you're in a hole! Eight hundred rupees, I tellyou--more than his month's pay! Said I was to keep quiet about it too.Not mail-day to-morrow, is it? Where's the use of writing to her?She'd never understand. Look out--some one's coming,--there by thedoor. Great Scott! It's--it's mother!"
The voice broke into an unnatural sound between a laugh and a sob, andFrank, who was already praying for the lesser evil of silence, bentover the Boy, soothing him with tender words and tone, as though shewere his mother in very deed.
The delusion was strong upon him. He clung to her fiercely when shewould have risen to fetch milk, overwhelming her with a rush ofdisjointed questions varied by snatches of enthusiasm for Desmond,till exhaustion reduced him to incoherent mutterings; and she was freeat last to grope for milk and brandy and a fresh packing of wetsheets.
He grew quieter after a space, and sank into a more restful sleep,leaving Frank Olliver to face another spell of whispering silence; herears strained now to catch the dread sound of a single horsemanreturning from the hills.
The first white streak of dawn found her still at her post, with handsquietly folded and unclosed eyes; found Amar Singh wide-eyed also, hislean face and figure rigid as a stone image, a bared sword lying likea flash of light across his knees.
And with the dawn came also the far-off mutter of the footsteps thatnight had stolen from her; an inverted repetition of the same soundsin a steady crescendo that rang like music in her ears--a sound tolift the heart.
The massed tramping of men and horses broke up at length, scattered inall directions, and within five minutes she looked up to find herhusband in the doorway--a thickset man, with more of force thanperception in his blunt features and heavily-browed eyes.
She rose and went to him straightway, her face alight withsatisfaction, and he took a friendly hold of her arm by way ofgreeting. They had always been more like good comrades than man andwife, these two.
"Well, old girl," he said, "there was no show after all, you see. Itseems that the raid didn't quite come off; and we had our scamper fornothing, worse luck! The Boy going on all right?"
"'Tis hard to tell. He's in a quiet sleep just now, anyway."
"You may as well come out of this, then, and give us some breakfast.I'm going to the Major's room to tidy up."
As his wife stepped back into the sick-room, Theo Desmond came quicklytowards her.
"Well done," he said heartily; "you didn't expect us quite so soon,did you? Not a shot fired, and I should have been swearing all the wayhome--but for the Boy. Looks peaceful enough now, doesn't he?Temperature any lower?"
"Just a little, these last few hours. But he's been talking a deal ofmadness, poor fellow."
"What about?" he asked sharply. "Money?"
She smiled, with an odd mixture of pride and tenderness in her eyes.
"Faith, I can see what's been happening, Theo, clear as daylight. ButI'll say no word to a soul, not even Geoff; you know that sureenough."
"Yes, I know it. But I'll feel grateful when he stops airing thesubject."
Her low laugh had a break in it, and he scanned her face keenly.
"You're played out, Frank. I was afraid you were hardly fit for thissort of thing yet. You don't do a stroke more till to-morrow morning.Come along now and have five gr
ains of quinine and some food. AmarSingh can mount guard in case the Boy wakes up."
Paul Wyndham greeted her with his nod and smile, which were apt toconvey more friendliness than other people's words. Desmond set herceremoniously in the place of honour; and the 6.30 breakfast, preparedat ten minutes' notice, and eaten in Mess uniform, proved a remarkablycheerful affair; one of those simple, commonplace events which, forall their simplicity, go far to cement friendship and form refreshingcases along the dusty path of life.
The morning post-bag contained an envelope in Evelyn's handwriting;and, the Ollivers being gone, Theo retired to the study to enjoy it athis leisure. It proved to be short, and contained little beyondquerulous upbraiding. Her husband could almost catch the tone of hervoice as he read; and the light of satisfaction left his face. Evelynhad an insatiable appetite for long and detailed letters, though sheby no means returned them in kind; and it appeared that Theo had notwritten for a week. In the fulness of his days he had not realised thefact which was now brought forcibly to his notice.
"It's just laziness and selfishness," she wrote in her sweepingfashion, "when you _know_ how I look out for your letters, to leave mea whole week without a line. If it was _me_, there might be someexcuse, because there's always something or another going on, and Inever seem to get a minute to sit down and write. But you must havehours and hours of spare time in the long days down there. I expectyou play chess with Major Wyndham all the while, and quite forgetabout writing to me. I suppose if you were ill _some one_ would havethe decency to write and tell me. But if you don't write yourself_directly_ you get this, I shall think something dreadful hashappened; and it's such a nuisance not to know if you are all right. Ican't enjoy things properly a bit."
And so on, _ad lib._, _da capo_, until the end.
Having read it through twice, with a flicker of amusement in his tiredeyes, he sat down straightway, wrote for a quarter of an hour at thetop of his speed, and left the letter ready for the afternoon post. Itcontained a polite apology for remissness, followed by an account inbare outline of his doings during the past five days; a few details inregard to Harry's illness; and an intimation that if letters wereshort, she must remember that, for the present, every hour of sparetime would be taken up with nursing the Boy or writing detailedaccounts to his mother. And, in truth, before that wearisome illnesswas over Mrs[.] Denvil and her boy's Captain had struck up a lastingfriendship across six thousand miles of sea.
* * * * *
On her return from a tennis party the following afternoon EvelynDesmond found the letter awaiting her; and her face took such ruefullines as she read it, that Honor's anxiety was roused.
"_Evelyn_--what is it?" she asked, a slight catch in her breath.
Evelyn shrugged her shoulders in meek resignation.
"Oh, it's only rather more Kohatish than usual! Mr. Denvil seems tobe quite bad with typhoid, and Theo has been galloping over half theFrontier after outposts--such rubbishy work for a man like that!And--oh, you'd better read it all for yourself. You needn't botherabout it having been written for _me_. It might just as well be aparagraph out of a newspaper!"
With a childish grimace she tossed the letter across the table. Buthid in her heart lay the rankling knowledge that she had been bothhasty and unjust to her husband, who had emphasised the fact byignoring it,--a method peculiarly his own.
Honor read every line of the closely-written pages with eagerinterest, read also the much that had not been written, that Evelynhad failed to discern; and a great thankfulness overwhelmed her thatshe had refrained from adding her own passing vexation to the burdenof work and anxiety already resting on her friend's shoulders.
Her spoken comment was brief and characteristic.
"Oh, how I envy Mrs Olliver! We're just playing at life up here, youand I, like two dolls, while she is living the real thing down there."
Evelyn Desmond, in utter astonishment, flung annoyance to the winds.
"Really and truly, Honor," she declared, with conviction, "you are themost amazing person I've ever known!"