*CHAPTER V*
The weeks passed, Christmas came and went, but still the monotonouspeace reigning over Fort Hussein and its environs remained undisturbed.All around, sometimes even within hearing of the garrison, mountain andpass echoed to the thunder of guns and rattle of rifle-fire, but forthem there was nothing; listless and inactive they remained, apparentlyforgotten, in the surrounding tumult. The 1st Lancers were a goodregiment, not fashionable, possibly, but efficient and keen; further,they were "happy," and knew nothing of those internal dissensions whichdestroy the harmony of less fortunate corps. Here, however, shut up ina dreary frontier fort, with nothing to occupy or distract their minds,the tone of the regiment insensibly changed. Tempers, always uncertainin India, wore dangerously thin; quarrels blazed forth on little or noprovocation; and soon cliques, constantly shifting, began to form.
On one subject, however, these various factions were in absoluteagreement, that one being the cordial dislike they all felt for CaptainHector Graeme. For a time, following on his exploit in recoveringPrivate Mortlock's body, his brother officers had been inclined to makemuch of him, and to show him, the juniors especially, that theyconsidered the Colonel had been both hard and unjust; but these feelingson their part had long since died away, and their former sentimentsregarding him again prevailed.
This, it must be owned, was largely due to Graeme's incapacity torespond to their well-meant overtures, but their latent aversion wasfanned by the assiduous slanders of Captain O'Hagan--who had a peculiarunreasoning hatred for Hector--till now they had come to regard theMortlock episode as one highly discreditable to all concerned in it, andof which the less said the better. The word "bolt" had been freely usedby that person, and, though Royle and one or two others had at firstchecked him, he had persisted, even to the extent of uttering hiscalumnies outside the regiment, with the result that Graeme, save by themen and one other officer, found himself regarded more or less as apariah. A recent decision of his, moreover, had given colour toO'Hagan's insinuations, for, thanks to some unknown influence, Hectorhad been offered, and refused, a billet as transport officer to a columnfighting in Tirah, a chance at which any other officer of the regimentwould have jumped.
On receiving this application for his junior officer's services, thesole proviso being his own recommendation, Colonel Schofield had forsome time hesitated. Against his own convictions--and they were strongones--he had been impressed by what Colonel Quentin had said concerningGraeme, and, being a conscientious man and one who theoretically had nolikes or dislikes among his subordinates, he had begun to ask himselfwhether it were not possible he had made a mistake about this junior.With this idea in his mind, he had laid himself out to find the hiddenpearl in the oyster, even unbending so far as to ask Graeme to accompanyhim, in place of his adjutant, on one of his early morning rides, theresult being that on that occasion he rode alone, Hector havingunfortunately overslept himself. Stifling his annoyance, he tried again,but, though this time successful in securing his junior's company, theinvitation was never renewed, Graeme's conversation, alternately sillyand boastful, having tried the Colonel beyond endurance.
Major Rawson, privately spoken to on the subject, did not feel hopefulof ultimate improvement in his captain; he grew worse, he declared,instead of better, his squadron accounts were always in a muddle, whileto give Graeme a duty to perform was for that duty to be scamped or,more likely, shirked altogether. True, in an emergency, such as thefire in the squadron store, he seemed to wake up--indeed, heextinguished the flames before the arrival of the engine; also the menliked him; but, for his part, he had no belief in these fly-awayfellows, who only worked by fits and starts; give him the methodicalstraight-going officer, who was always the same and followed the ruleslaid down. And the Colonel, agreeing, had thereupon commenced hisperusal of the morning's mail, amongst the letters being theabove-mentioned application. For a day and a night Schofield wrestledwith his doubts, and then, though with considerable misgiving, sent forHector and informed him of his willingness to recommend him for thepost.
"Only promise me, Graeme," he concluded, "that you really will put yourback into this. Remember, it's not only yourself you have to thinkabout, but also the credit of the regiment."
The concession--and to Colonel Schofield it was a great one--had beenmade in vain, for Hector then and there declined the chance offered him,giving no reason. Incredulous at first, his Chief soon lost his temper,for it was one thing, he felt, for him to hesitate to recommend asubordinate, but quite another for the latter, when so favoured, torefuse the offer. It would be far better now, he realised, for Graemeto go, even though he proved himself a failure, for, after all, he hadbeen applied for by name, thus throwing responsibility on the shouldersof the applier; whereas his refusal to go would assuredly give rise tocaustic remarks from authority, anent lack of keenness in his command,inability to influence his officers, etc.
With these harassing thoughts in his mind, he stifled his anger andproceeded to reason with Graeme, urging upon him the greatness of theopportunity offered, and pointing out the folly of refusal. In vain;Hector remained unmoved; he had made up his mind, and with him, thatdone, the matter was finished. The interview also afforded him a veryreal gratification. Well he knew--with that uncanny intuition ofhis--what was passing in his Colonel's mind, and was more than everdetermined to thwart him. It was his turn now; he would make the most ofit, and repay his Chief for the humiliation he had heaped upon himbefore a stranger, in this very room, three months before. Hector neverforgot an injury, or a kindness for that matter, and the remembrance ofthat interview had been smouldering in his heart ever since. One wordof praise then, or afterwards some acknowledgment of what he had done,might have been the making of Graeme; but this was not ColonelSchofield's way. Praise from him, if earned, was to be understood,blame to be expressed, and so he had seized upon what was wrong in hissubordinate's conduct, ignoring the rest.
Graeme had shown gallantry, it was true, but it was not necessary topraise him for it; the sense of having done his duty, he considered,ought always to be sufficient reward for a soldier. It was notsufficient for Hector, however, to whom applause was as essential as themodicum of opium is to the well-being of a Chinaman, and the consequenceof his Colonel's refusal to gratify this craving was to fill him with abitter sense of grievance and determination to annoy his superiors inevery possible way. They wanted him now, did they? he thought. Verywell, they shouldn't have him, he was not going to risk his life asecond time; he had done it once, and got nothing for it save abuse, andit would be the same again, for they were all alike; he would see themdamned before he went. Schofield therefore was but wasting his breath,and, realising this at last, he abandoned the effort and dismissedGraeme from his presence, concluding the interview by remarking that anofficer who refused the chance of active service was, in his opinion,best out of the regiment he commanded.
"You may think what you please," muttered Hector, on his way back to hisquarters, "but I'm hanged if I will resign. I meant to once we returnedto Riwala, but now I won't, just because you want me to."
Thenceforth Hector went his solitary way, shunning, and shunned by, hisbrother officers, and doing just sufficient regimental work to enablehim to avoid a second interview with his Colonel, who was now, he knew,only waiting the opportunity to fall upon him.
To most men, his would have been an impossible existence, but Graeme hadbeen at variance with his fellows since his childhood, and hisever-present feeling of grievance, coupled with the sense of battleagainst odds, served but to stimulate and harden him in his course.Indeed, had it not been for one thing, he would rather have enjoyed hispresent life, but that thing was a big one to him, intolerable even,namely, his total inability to cope with the slanders of Captain RobertO'Hagan, whose enmity he returned with a concentrated bitterness ofhate, such as, had he been aware of it, would have possibly made thatcautious person pause. Many times he had sought to bring his traducer
to task, but always without success, for O'Hagan was cunning, populartoo amongst his fellows, while Graeme was the reverse, and blank looksor even flat refusal was the sole response he met with in his frequentendeavours to elicit definite proof of calumny from the mouths of hisbrother officers.
Of wordy controversies in public--and only in the presence of otherswould O'Hagan condescend to address Graeme--there had been many, andviolent ones, but invariably the result had been humiliating to Hector,for O'Hagan possessed the ready tongue of a cheap-jack, and easilyreduced Graeme to impotent silence, the latter's feeble, though rude,rejoinders only awakening delighted titters from all present. One day,he sought out O'Hagan and threatened personal violence, to which menacehis enemy, who was no hero save in public, where he was safe, replied bycalling up a passing junior and requesting Hector to repeat his recentobservations. This, Graeme, too angry or too careless to considerconsequences, promptly did, whereupon O'Hagan at once reported him tothe Colonel, producing his witness, and the Chief, glad of the chance,let himself go for a full ten minutes. Hector subsequently departed tohis quarters, where he flung himself down on the bed, gritting histeeth, and tearing at the counterpane.
Thus engaged, he was suddenly brought to himself by a knock at the door,and Captain Carson, his one and only friend in the regiment, entered.
"Hullo," said the latter, looking at him, "what's the trouble? You seemput out."
"I'm busy, Peter, what do you want?" was the answer.
"Nothing much," said Carson, unruffled by his greeting. "I'll go if youwant me to. Got some news for you, that's all."
"What is it?"
"Regiment's going back to Riwala, thought I'd tell you so that you couldwire to your missus. She's back from Kashmir, isn't she?"
"Likely she'd stay up there in the snow, isn't it? What the devil arewe moving for? I hate a move, the whole place upset and everybodyfussing like blazes. Lord, how Rawson will fidget, shan't have amoment's peace now, I suppose."
"What an extraordinary fellow you are, Graeme. Don't you want to goback?"
"Of course I do, no one but a fool would wish to stay here. It's themoving I hate. Gad, but I'll be glad enough, I know, to have my ownhouse again, and be quit of the cursed Mess and my brother officers fora while."
Carson frowned.
"Why do you always sneer at the fellows, Graeme? It's no wonder theydislike you."
"I hope they do, but I don't wish to talk about them. When are we off?"
"Three days from now, Ferrers says, just in time for the races."
Graeme's face darkened.
"Blast the races!" he said.
"In heaven's name, what for? You're hard to please this morning."
"O'Hagan's benefit, that's what Riwala racing means, Carson.O'Hagan----"
"Oh, shut up, you've got O'Hagan on the brain. 'Pon my soul, Graeme, Ican't understand this hatred for the fellow. I don't like him much, Iown, nor I believe do the others really, but I don't hate him. Why areyou so infernally immoderate in everything, why not take things quietly,as I do? You'd find life much easier. After all, he's not abad-hearted fellow."
"He's a low, cowardly blackguard, not one redeeming point about him."
"There's no fellow like that, Graeme; anyway, he's an officer of theregiment, and all our talking won't alter that fact."
"You're right, Peter, talking won't."
"Well, what else can you do? Hullo, what the---- Good Lord!" for thedoor had been suddenly kicked open--O'Hagan never knocked save at asenior's door--and the subject of their discussion stood on thethreshold.
"You here, Carson?" he said, his eyebrows lifted in seeming surprise atthe latter's being in such company. "Come and play bridge."
"Not now, thank you, O'Hagan; as you see, I'm talking to Graeme."
"That won't keep you. Graeme's in for it again, cutting stables thistime. Rawson wants you, Graeme, at once, going to wheel you up beforethe C.O., I believe."
"All right, O'Hagan, thank you."
Hearing the gentle answer instead of the outburst he expected, PeterCarson looked up in surprise, with a curious feeling of uneasiness.Surprised also was Captain O'Hagan, but pleasantly, for at last hethought he saw his enemy cowed and conscious of the futility of furtherresistance. His dark eyes gleamed and a bullying note came into hishusky voice.
"It's not all right, I can tell you," he said. "Rawson says, of all theslack, useless----"
"Quite so, and now--get out."
"Get out, who the devil are you talking to? Keep away, d'you hear?Carson, you're the senior officer here, you're witness----"
"Sit down, Graeme, and you, O'Hagan, be off. You've given your message,and I should say made the most of it. Clear out."
"Oh, very well, though I must say it's a nice way to treat a brotherofficer. The Colonel shall hear of this, I promise you, both of you."
"If you stay another minute, I'll throw you out myself, by God, I will,"said Peter, the Carson temper suddenly blazing up, and rising headvanced towards the other, who, however, did not await his approach,but fled hastily.
"Riling fellow that," said Peter, resuming his seat and proceeding torelight his pipe, which had gone out. "Very near lost my temper. Whatthe devil are you laughing at, Graeme, at me?"
"No, at him."
"Him, what for?"
"To think what a fool he is, hammering away like that."
"Hammering?"
"Yes, driving the nails in."
"Don't know what on earth you're talking about, don't suppose you doeither. Well, I'm off, there's a busy time ahead for all of us," andPeter rose and went out, leaving Graeme deep in thought. For someminutes he sat there, and then walked across to the window, where hestood looking down on the squadron lines below, already permeated withthe spirit of unrest, born of the news of the coming move.
Hurrying to and fro, pointing with his stick and explaining the obvious,Major Rawson could be seen, two harassed-looking subalterns and theSergeant-Major in close attendance; while some distance away,grave-faced and dignified, Colonel Schofield was standing, issuingorders to the alert Ferrers, who was zealously taking down the same in alarge note-book.
A feeling of angry contempt was aroused in Graeme as he looked. "Fussyfools," he muttered, "the whole regiment turned upside down because of amove of a few hundred miles. God! there's Rawson lifting a saddle andweighing it. Why don't he take his coat off and groom the horses andpack the kits while he's about it? And you're worse," he continuedscornfully, apostrophising his unconscious C.O., "you're a damnedhumbug, you are; for only the other day you agreed with Quentin when hetold me that to make others work and not work yourself was the thing,and now you see the exact reverse going on you stand there and saynothing. Make me sick, the whole lot of you do. Wish to God I had therunning of the show; I'd soon stop all that, and at the same time getthem off with no bother at all."
He turned from the window and threw himself down on the bed once more,where he lay evolving schemes of fussless removal, and then, hisinterest in the subject growing, he seized pencil and paper andcommitted his ideas to writing. And, as it happened, the idleoccupation of a few minutes was not wasted, for Major Rawson, possiblyfrom over-anxiety, was that same evening laid low by fever, and thecommand of the squadron consequently devolved upon Hector, who thereuponproceeded to put his newly-hatched plans into execution. Ignoringhourly messages and instructions from the sick-bed, he the next morningsummoned his non-commissioned officers to his quarters, and after anhour's conversation dismissed them, he himself departing for the day inquest of Cee Cee.[#] Nor, except for half an hour daily, did hesubsequently visit the lines, though in the other squadrons all theofficers were in attendance throughout the day.
[#] A kind of rock partridge.
To the disappointment of his _confreres_, no hitch occurred in BSquadron arrangements; on the contrary, while all around fuss andconfusion reigned, in Hector's command there was clock-like precision,and to the minute on the day
appointed for departure, their kits andtents packed away before daylight on bubbling camels, his men stoodwaiting beside their saddled horses, with quiet enjoyment on their facesas they viewed the agitated throng on either side. Nor did anextra-minute inspection by a cold-faced Colonel reveal the deficiencieshe hoped in his heart to find, and a distinct feeling of injury was inthe Chief's heart as he found himself forced to order B Squadron to moveoff first--A, the leaders by right, not being yet ready. At thestation, however, disaster at last arose, Williams and Rogers profitingby the occasion to slip away to the bazaar, where next day they werefound by the garrison police very drunk. The consequence of this mishapwas severe censure for Hector, Schofield remarking that such disgraceswere to be expected in a squadron left to the care of non-commissionedofficers.