WE HAD NO TIME TO SCREAM—HE SEIZED
HOLD OF BOTH OF US.
He looked at us with scowling suspicious eyes.
Then Lynette took heart. She knew she must play the game too, and she laughed her merry laugh.
"What are you afraid of?" she said. "We shan't hurt you? Are you fishing here? We're just going home."
"And who else be wi' ye?" he asked.
"Nobody," I said. "Why are you asking us all these questions?"
He did not answer; he had us in his grip, one each side of him. And he made us walk along the beach with him till he came to the farther entrance of the caves. Then he looked in, and he saw the boards had been moved away.
"Ye've been meddlin' with my property," he said; "how daur ye! I've come ower here to paint up my boat, and ye've been meddlin' with my paint-pots."
"As if we want your old paint-tins!" I said scornfully. "We just peeped in behind the boards, but we never touched one of your paint-pots. What should we want with them!"
"Now look ye here!" the man said, scowling harder than ever. "I'd think nothin' of droppin' both of ye into the sea for meddlin' with my affairs! I be come ower here, as I say, to be quiet and paint me boat, and I dinna want the other chaps to—to ken where I be. 'Tis a bit of a wager 'twixt me and my mate, and I be gettin' the better of him in the paintin' way. If either o' you young leddies let drop a single wor-rd of my bein' ower here, I'll come an' murder ye in yer beds sure enough, and not a body will kep ye from my vengeance!"
"What a lot of fuss about painting a boat!" I said. "We shan't say a word about that of course. Why should we?"
"Ye swear?"
"I swear," I said firmly.
And Lynette hastily repeated after me "I swear too."
"Then off ye go!" said the man, releasing us.
"But I'll reckon with you, if I hang for it, if you daur to breek your word!"
He marched us back to where our boat was. We got in, and both of us kept brave faces to the last. Our rowing was very shaky. We hardly dared look at each other as long as he stood on the beach watching us.
But, as we got away from the island, Lynette began to sob.
"I want to roar and cry!" she said.
"Oh, don't! He may change his mind and come after us. Row for your life, Lynette! I've been praying all the time that we might escape! But we must row our hardest!"
So Lynette fought with her feelings, and we never rowed so hard and fast in all our lives as we did then. It seemed quite strange to hear our stable clock sounding over the water and striking four. It seemed as if we had been away days, instead of only a couple of hours.
The tide was on the turn, but we got back safely at last, and when we got upon the beach, and had driven our boat in on the shingle, I said: "We must thank God for having saved us, Lynette."
She nodded. Then we knelt down behind a rock where nobody could see us, and thanked Him, and then we took hold of each other's hands and raced up to the house as fast as we could.
"I suppose—" gasped Lynette, as she ran, "I suppose he wasn't painting a boat!"
"Not he!" I said. "Why should he have been so angry at seeing us? Now we'll go and tell grandfather at once if he's in. He is a magistrate, so he'll know what to do."
"But—but—supposing if the man is caught," said Lynette, "I'll never sleep in my bed in comfort again. I feel sure he will come and murder us. You were very clever how you swore, Grisel; of course we needn't say a word about his painting a boat, but that's only a clever way of cheating him!"
"What does it matter," I said, "what happens to us! If we prevent a submarine from getting that oil, Lynette, it will prevent them sinking some of our ships. We've always wanted to die for our country, so that would be the way that we should die! Besides, if the man is caught, he will be imprisoned or shot, and how can he hurt us then?"
"He might escape."
Lynette drew a long breath.
"Well, I won't be a coward, but it's not a pleasant thing to think about."
"Don't think about it. We must do what is right, and God guards us every night, Lynette. He won't let us be killed unless it's really the best thing for us!"
So then we went into the house and asked Peggy if grandfather was in. She said he was resting from his drive, and no one must disturb him.
But we knew we must disturb him, for not a moment must be lost; so we crept quietly downstairs past Aunt Isobel's room, and then knocked boldly at the library door.
"He'll have to put his teeth in first," said Lynette with a little frightened giggle. "I'm just as frightened of grandfather, when he's angry, as of that old sailor man!"
There was no answer. We knocked again louder, and then—I'm sorry to write it—but grandfather spoke angry words. Still, he didn't tell us to come in. We waited a moment, then we knocked again, and this time turned the door-handle and walked boldly in.
Grandfather was sitting up in his arm-chair; he had his teeth in. He scowled at us, and asked us what we meant by disturbing him at this hour.
It was funny how frightened Lynette was of him. She shrank behind me, but I was so worked up that I didn't mind his crossness a bit. I only thought of the oil upon the island, and how we must prevent a submarine getting it.
"We have something very important to tell you, grandfather," I said; "it has to do with our country, and something ought to be done at once."
"Speak out!" snapped grandfather.
Then I said:
"Lynette and I have discovered a lot of hidden oil in the caves on the island, and it's just waiting there for a submarine to fetch it!"
"Bosh!" said grandfather.
But he listened to me.
I told him how Lynette and I had gone out in the boat, and found the tins and barrels stored away.
"It's just your fancy—a few old empty tins perhaps."
Lynette was angry that he should treat it so lightly, and she forgot to be frightened. "There's a strange man over there with it," she said.
Then grandfather sat up straight in his chair and began to question us, and cross-examine us. I pity the people who come before him to be tried. He wanted to know every word that the man had said to us, and we tried not to tell him. Then at last I said desperately:
"He pretended to us that he was using those tins for a purpose of his own, but we can't tell you what that purpose was, because he made us swear we wouldn't tell, and we swore we wouldn't. But we didn't swear we wouldn't tell that the oil-tins were there, and we thought you could send for the police and let them go over. They could soon find out if it is true. And the sooner they go, the better."
"It's all a pack of nonsense," said grandfather testily. "Here, let me get to the telephone. I'll set Major Streatfield on to it!"
Major Streatfield is the Chief Constable of our part of the world, and he's one of grandfather's friends. I was quite relieved when grandfather told him about it through the telephone. We didn't hear what he said, for it was a one-sided shout through the tube, but we guessed from what we heard that the major was going to do something. And then grandfather sat back in his chair and looked at us.
"You had better keep a quiet tongue in your heads over this business. If there's anything in it, we don't want it proclaimed all over the village. Can you keep your mouths shut, do you think?"
"We have managed to keep them shut, grandfather, even to you about one thing," said Lynette, who had quite recovered her assurance. "Grisel and I want to keep it quiet. And if that man is caught, he will escape and murder us; he said he would. So you'll know who has done it, when it is done!"
Lynette's voice was tragic, and grandfather laughed for the first time. Then he sent us away.
We couldn't settle to anything for the rest of that day. We longed that the boys were home, for they would have gone out with the police to take away the oil. Nobody could have prevented them being in it. That is the worst of girls: whatever they do, and however brave they try to be, nobody thinks anything of them when real danger comes.
We sat in the schoolroom and talked over our adventure; it was all we could do. We tried to think what we could have done better. If we had only found his boat, before we found the man, we might have made a hole in the bottom of it, or let it loose and drift out to sea. But then he would have taken ours, if he had found it out before we had left.
"And all our preparations for emergencies were no good," said Lynette. "Our matches and paper and food and rope were all of no use; they just came back again with us."
"Things never happen exactly as we think," I said, "but the wonderful thing is that the oil was really there just as we imagined it. I really think God made us think of it. I have prayed so much that we might be given some work to do for our country!"
"Perhaps it isn't oil," said Lynette.
"It must be—it must be. Oh, I wish we could know what they're doing."
But we didn't know, and though it was a dark still night, and we stayed at our bedroom windows till we were too sleepy to hold our heads up any more, we saw no lights, nor boats, nor heard any noise at all.
When I fell asleep, I dreamt of that sailor running after us with a hatchet in his hand. I had awful dreams all the night through! I was quite glad to wake up in the morning and find myself safe and well.
After our breakfast, grandfather sent us a message to say that he wanted to see us. We were delighted, for we hoped to hear news. And when he saw us, there was a pleased smile on his face, and we knew that our story had proved true.
"Streatfield has just phoned through," he said; "I thought you would like to know. They captured the oil, but there was no man. He's coming round at ten o'clock, and wants you to describe the man to him."
"Oh," I said, "then we have done some good, grandfather."
"You have indeed."
"I only hope the man isn't hiding there still," said Lynette. "He really will come and kill us, if he knows we sent the police. Grisel says it doesn't matter about us, but I'd rather be shot in battle than murdered in my bed."
"Tut!" said grandfather impatiently. "Be a sensible lass, and don't be frightened of a man's idle threat. He is away without a doubt, for there is no boat, they say. Streatfield knows those caves well."
"Why haven't the men been watching them then?" I said.
"There's carelessness somewhere," said grandfather. "Don't chatter any more, but be ready to see Major Streatfield when he comes."
"Aren't we important people!" Lynette said as she skipped out of the room.
In a very little time we were down again, but this time it was in the library, and grandfather was up and dressed. He had told Aunt Isobel about it, and she cautioned us before we saw the major that we must be most accurate and careful in what we said.
"It's like a police court!" said Lynette.
Major Streatfield was very jolly with us. Not a bit like grandfather. And we described the man as well as we could. He nodded his head as we finished.
"That's the chap. He was implicated in the other affair higher up the coast, but he's a beggar for escaping. I think we shall catch him this time though."
And then Lynette showed him the pipe she had picked up. She had forgotten all about it till now.
Major Streatfield was awfully interested in it. He took it over to the window and examined it, and then took a magnifying glass out of his pocket, and looked at it, and then he made grandfather look, and they nodded their heads together.
"Well, I have him safe in custody," the major said. "I don't know if he's deeply implicated in it, or whether, for a bribe, he promised to keep clear of that part."
We asked whose pipe it was, and grandfather's answer was:
"David Grier's. His name is scratched upon it."
We gasped.
"But he may have been walking along innocently like us," I said, "and dropped his pipe."
"If he had been doing his duty, would he not have discovered what you did?" said Major Streatfield. "We only got it away in the nick of time. What do you think we found, sir?"
And he turned to grandfather as he spoke:
"We found a light with a slow-burning fuse attached, set in one of the open clefts in the cave. Grier ought to have seen that light. He ought to have stationed his men where they had command of that beach."
Lynette and I were not allowed to stay much longer, but Major Streatfield shook hands with us before we went out of the room, and said:
"You showed great courage and presence of mind. Your grandfather must be proud of you!"
And Lynette and I came up to the schoolroom, and felt awfully pleased with ourselves.
Now the oil was secured, there was not so much secrecy wanted. We were allowed to tell Miss Garton all about it when she came back, and she was most interested.
But that evening, Lynette nearly got into trouble again. When grandfather and Aunt Isobel were at dinner, she actually crept down to the hall and unfastened some of the bits of armour that were on the wall. She got hold of a shield and a kind of collar and was bringing it upstairs, when she stumbled and fell, and the shield went crashing down the stairs with an awful clanging noise. Miss Garton and I rushed out, and grandfather and Aunt Isobel, and then there was an awful row, and Lynette stood up in front of grandfather red and defiant.
"I deserve to have it! You oughtn't to grudge it to me. I was going to wear it under my nightdress in bed every night to save me from being murdered! Grisel and I will always go to sleep in fear of our lives. And you know why, grandfather!"
Grandfather began to laugh. But he wouldn't let Lynette have the armour. And, as I told her, it was not as if the man had been caught. I dare say he thought the oil had been taken off by the submarine. That was why the police tried to keep it as quiet as possible.
After a few nights, Lynette left off being nervous. And I never was at all. Because I know that God has me fast in His Hand. And I told Lynette that she ought to look at her foot and remember the letters on it.
"Yes," she said, "but I'm not so good as you, and I take my hand out of God's a hundred times a day. I forget so, and I'm in such a hurry to do what I want, that I never stop to think whether God wants me to do it, and generally He doesn't!"
We wondered if anything would be said in the newspapers about us and the oil, but there wasn't a word except one local paper which said:
"We understand that our Chief Constable is very active on our coast, and has had reason to suspect in more than one place connivance with the enemy. We can safely trust him to guard all exposed points."
Miss Garton said so much was suppressed now, and she thought it was very wise to be cautious.
"Yes," said Lynette, who had never forgotten the strange sailor; "and it wouldn't do for him to see it in the papers, would it, Grisel? But I should like for once in my life to see my name in the paper. It would sound so lovely. It might be headed:
"Two heroic defenders of our shores!"
She wrote a long letter to Denys and Aylwin about it. We thought there was no harm in doing that, and we had some awfully jolly letters from them wishing that they had been here to join in the fun.
Old David Grier quietly disappeared, and another coastguardsman took his place. The fishermen said he was too old for his job, but we knew a little more than they did.
Aunt Grisel heard about it, and when we went over to her, she was the only one who praised us up to the skies! She's getting her soldiers now, but they are five wounded officers, and we don't think them as interesting as the men.
Yet if Pat or Denys got wounded, we should think them interesting. But we know them, and strange officers are different. They would look upon us as children, and I should be afraid to go near them.
Miss Garton is teaching us to make swabs for the hospital. Lynette and I are getting quite clever at it. The war keeps us busy, but it seems to get more and more awful. I never knew that war could be so horribly cruel!
CHAPTER XV
AN OLD FRIEND
I HAVE had a great surprise.
Last Saturday I went over to Aunt Grisel's. And when I got there, she asked me to arrange some flowers for her wounded soldiers.
I had seen none of them, for they had been kept very quiet. Miss Fawcett was generally with them.
I love arranging flowers, especially when one is allowed to pick what one chooses from the greenhouses. And when I had filled all the vases, Aunt Grisel asked me to come with her and place them in the rooms.
I felt a little bit shy. And as we were going upstairs, she told me about them. One had been wounded in the head, and, though it wasn't a very dangerous wound, it had left him partly paralysed all down one side; another was deaf and dumb from shock, one was suffering from gas poisoning, and the two others were suffering from nerves. It all seemed dreadfully sad. The first one we saw was the one who had been poisoned by gas. He was lying in bed breathing rather heavily. Aunt Grisel spoke very brightly to him.
"I have brought you some flowers which my little goddaughter here has arranged. Put them on that table, Grisel!"
In an instant, a smooth dark head raised itself from the pillow. And, to my amazement and delight, I saw that it was actually Gervas Carrington!
He smiled all over his face when he saw me.
"I thought there weren't many Grisels in the world," he said, in a weak husky voice.
"Oh, Gervas," I said, going over to his bed, "how delightful to see you! And yet I'm sorry too! Are you very ill! Too ill for me to talk to you? Aunt Grisel, Gervas is a very old friend of ours. He lives in Lincolnshire."
"Or did," put in Gervas. "My mother is with my father in India now, so I have no home. Otherwise, I might not be here."
"Don't make him talk too much, child, or Miss Fawcett may forbid our visits altogether. But you can sit down and talk to him a little if you like, whilst I take the flowers to the other rooms."
She left us. I took the chair by the bedside, and Gervas put out a very thin brown hand and took hold of mine.
"Little Grisel!" he said in a low voice. "I would rather see you than any one else in the world—next to my mother."
And then my eyes suddenly filled with tears. When last I had seen him he was so strong and well, and now he seemed so frail and feeble!
"It's my lungs," he said, "but I'm better, and longing to be out in your fresh pure Scotch air. I haven't been out in France a month. It's hard luck!"
"Isn't it strange your being sent up here?" I said.
"How do you come here? Do you know it was your Empire League that took me to Sandhurst? I was filled up with enthusiasm to serve. I haven't done much serving, but I did my best."
He seemed to speak with difficulty.
"Don't talk, Gervas," I said. "Let me tell you what has been happening to all of us. Our lives have been altered altogether since father's death."
Then I told him everything. All about father's Charge to me, and how we are trying to keep it, and about Pat, and grandfather and Aunt Isobel. And then by the time I had finished about the oil in the caves, Miss Fawcett came in. Everybody calls her "Sister" now. And she is dressed in a nurse's cap and apron.
"You're not tiring my patient, Grisel?" she said.
"She's doing me pounds of good," said Gervas.
Miss Fawcett smiled. She brought him a cup of beef-tea on a tray, and he sat up and took it, but his cough was dreadful, and he moved like a weary old man. I sat silent till he had taken his beef-tea, and then I was going to follow Miss Fawcett out of the room, when Gervas asked me to stay a little longer.
"You're a bit of home," he said. "I won't talk."
So Miss Fawcett left us. I didn't want to go and see any of the other invalids.
I told Gervas about Denys being at Woolwich.
"He may get leave at Christmas," I said, "but they're working very hard. He's longing to get out to the front. Somehow or other, the glory of war is fading away. I used to long that it might come and give us something to do and dare for our country, but women can dare nothing. They only read the papers and hear about the awful, things going on."
Gervas looked at me thoughtfully with his great dark eyes.
"You're growing up," he said.
"I suppose I am. I think this war makes one grow. I mean I can't tear about so wildly as I used to do. I wonder sometimes that we can ever laugh."
"You must look on to the end," he said.
"I suppose," I said slowly, "it's very awful out at the front, Gervas?"
"It isn't play. But it's time we English woke up. We were taking it too easy all round."
"Oh, I do hope you will soon be well again," I cried.
"I'd like to do a bit more," said Gervas, "but you and I know that everything that happens to us is all right, so I shan't worry!"
I remembered how good Gervas used to be, and I felt my heart warm right up.
"Yes, we do know that, Gervas," I said. "I wish we were all as good as you. I'm trying to remember that God wants to hold us all fast if we will let Him. But I often wonder what they must think in heaven about the war. I should think the angels must weep."
"I think," said Gervas slowly, "that they're very busy out in the trenches, guarding and guiding and comforting and carrying souls over the river."
Then he coughed, and I begged him not to talk. It was difficult to keep to Miss Fawcett's orders.
Very soon Aunt Grisel came back and took me away. Gervas gripped hold of my hand when he said good-bye.
"I shall see you again?" he asked.
"She comes over every Saturday," said Aunt Grisel. "I hope you'll be up next week. We're going to make a cure of you here. I must tell you that you would not be here except for Grisel. She persuaded her self-indulgent old aunt to turn her house into a hospital."
Gervas looked at me.
"She always inspires!" he said.
I hardly like to write this down. I don't think it is quite true, but it made me very happy. We always felt that same thing with Gervas when we knew him in Lincolnshire. He gave us a spurt on—the boys used to say.
But I came away from his room feeling very sad, and downstairs I told Aunt Grisel all about him.
"He will get well, won't he?" I said.
"We'll hope so, but he won't be fit to go back and fight for a long long time. We'll do our best for him here. You may be sure of that."
When I got home and told Lynette, she was awfully excited.
"I must go and see him next Saturday. Do ask Aunt Grisel to have me. I want to ask him about Beatrice and Clarice. If it's only his chest that is the matter, he'll soon get well. It isn't like having bullets in you, or smashing your arms and legs. Poor Gervas! What a shame he has no home! Perhaps, when he gets better, Aunt Isobel would ask him here. It's a pity he's come back from the war before he had a chance to be a hero and get a V.C. If Pat doesn't get a V.C. pretty soon, I shall be disgusted with him. Did you ask Gervas if he had done anything?"
"If you saw him lying there, gasping his life out," I said severely, "you would think he had done enough!"
Lynette wasn't much impressed. She rattled on:
"Did you tell him what you and I had been doing? I am sure we deserve a V.C. for finding that oil and braving death when we met that man!"
"I told him about it," I said, "but I hope I didn't brag about it as you are so fond of doing. We really were too frightened to do much. If we had caught the man and tied him up, and got nearly killed by him for doing it, that would have been something to be proud of! You're as bad as Puff sometimes!"
We always snub Puff, because he is so cocky.
Lynette laughed.
"You're such a prig, Grizzy!"
And then I went out of the room and banged the door behind me, for I hate being called a prig, and Lynette knows it.
This morning I actually had a letter from Pat. It came from France, and had the censor's ticket on it. I do love Pat's letters. He writes just like he talks, only he has never written to me before, but I have seen his letters to the boys.
"DEAR LITTLE MOTHER GRISEL,
"Here's the top of the morning to you, me darling! And what a morning
for us! Sure 'tis the cart before the horse in this war! We are buried
in our graves first, then we get out to fight. Send along all the
grave-diggers you can find to help us with the pick and shovel, for
them is the boys for us! 'Tis cruel work standing in ice and water up
to your middle, and only lifting your nose and eyes up to the daylight
once in a blue moon to get a squint at your foes. But we've had a dash
on occasions, and then Huroosh for the Oirish boys! We've driven 'em
back no end o' times! Our major is real grand at shouting. He's the
very mischief when there's a real scrimmage, but his language—ahem—'tis
hot enough and no mistake.
"The other morning a starched, stiff British general came by, and our
major was in his best form tackling recruits, and rating them fast and
furiously. The old general asked his name. 'McAndrew,' he was told.
'Make a note that in Major McAndrew's trenches there is no scarcity of
fire or fuel,' he said, and passed on. And our poor major heard it, and
was dumb for a whole day after.
"Well, and how is yourself? I've had two letters only, and letters out
here, I can tell you, are as nectar! I'm trying hard to H.F. you'll
like to know, and my little mascot is taken out and looked at every
blessed day. Say a prayer for your poor Pat! Sure and he knows he wants
it. For the shaves he has had from shot and shell would fill a book!
And we're up against death every minute of the day, and it makes a
fellow think of the world we're blown into, at such short summons. How
is the Puffer! My love to the Scaramouche.
"Your worthless
"PAT."
The Scaramouche is Lynette. I shall write to Pat every week. Miss Garton says I may. I am so glad he reads his Testament. Oh, I do hope God will keep him safely!
*****
Our Christmas holidays have come and Aylwin is home, and Denys is coming for a week next Tuesday. Scotch people don't make anything of Christmas. It seems so strange; only New Year's Day. That is the most important season to them. Gervas is much better. He walks about, but he has still got an awful cough, and says he is as weak as a chicken. He was awfully pleased to see Aylwin, and Lynette has been over several Saturdays with me. Aunt Isobel is going to ask Gervas over to dine and sleep with us on New Year's Day, for Denys will be with us then.
We had great excitement yesterday. An aeroplane came over the house, and alighted in one of grandfather's fields.
A Captain Hugh Gordon was in it. Aunt Isobel knew him, and, as there was something the matter with his machine, she asked him to come into the house. He stayed to lunch, and after lunch we were allowed to go out to the field and see him start again. His man had been repairing it, and it was all right again. He told us he was going to patrol the East Coast of England, where the Zeppelins are coming over. Aylwin begged him to take him up for a ride, and Lynette and I were wild to go too. I think it must be too lovely for words to go sailing through the sky, with the world at your feet. Captain Gordon said he would take Aylwin up for a few minutes, but not us girls.
"You are too precious!" he said, laughing.
"But," I cried, "that is just what we are not. It is boys and men who are precious now, because they can fight, and girls cannot. Our country might be the worse for want of Aylwin in a year or two, but not for us. Lynette and I could easily be spared!"
He only laughed at us.
"Our soldiers will want you to nurse them or marry them," he said. "No, you can't be spared."
And then Aylwin got into the car, and we watched them start the engine and run right along the field like a motor, and then suddenly rise, and rise, till they looked like some big bird. We caught our breath as we watched them.
Puff was with us.
"Why," he said, with big awed eyes, "they might be able to find their way into heaven if they flew high enough. What would happen then?"
We laughed at him, and I said:
"Nobody can find heaven, Puff."
"But we find it quick when we die," he said; "and it would be very nice to find it when we're alive."
We said no more to him, we were so busy watching the aeroplane, and then swiftly it came down and down and got bigger and bigger, until we saw the car and two little heads peeping out, and then in another minute it had come to the ground again.
Aylwin got out. He looked rather pale, and we thought it was with excitement, and we felt he was almost a hero.
Puff dashed forward to Captain Gordon. "Can you fly up out of sight," he asked, "through the clouds?"
"Yes, and very wet and cold they are."
Then Puff said in an eager whisper, for he did not want us to hear:
"Do try and find out heaven when you're up there. Even if you don't want to go inside just yet. Do you know if any flying man has found the way there yet?"
Captain Gordon did not smile; he looked at him long and seriously.
"Yes, little chap, some find their way there, we'll hope!"
"When they're flying?"
"When they have a tumble."
And then Captain Gordon waved his hand to us, and got into his car again, and his man got in with him, and away they went, and we watched them with craning necks and strained eyes till they were out of sight.
Then we asked Aylwin to describe his feelings. But he's stupid at that kind of thing.
"It was A1," he said. "At first you feel rather as you do when you try to smoke. I've quite made up my mind that when I leave school, I'll go into the Flying Corps."
"That will be ripping!" said Lynette. "And then you can bring your machine home and take us flying trips. I don't see why we shouldn't learn to fly."
"You!" said Aylwin contemptuously. "You're only good for nursing or marrying!"
And he laughed.
I felt angry.
"That's just like men," I said; "they're so small-minded."
"Well, what do you think you will do when you grow up?" Aylwin demanded.
"I shan't be a nurse," cried Lynette; "nothing so tame! I couldn't walk round beds and shake pillows and give medicine all day long. And I shan't marry any man if he wants me to stay at home all day, and keep the house, and order his dinners, and mend his socks for him. I shall earn some money first, and then I shall travel all over the world with a faithful native servant who is ready to die for me. And when I've seen every corner of the world, I shall come home, and choose the very handsomest man I can find for a husband. He must be a V.C. at the tip-top of the Army, and must have a coat covered with bars and medals and glory! That's going to be my life!"
"I should be willing to marry," I said, "if my husband was a soldier and would let me share his camp life and all his hardships. I should love to make him comfortable, and cheer him up when he was downhearted."
"You've no ambition at all!" said Lynette scornfully.
And sometimes I wonder if I have. I know I have, great ambition for the boys, and for Gervas and for Pat. I want them to do noble great things before they die, and I believe they will. Both Denys and Pat have a splendid chance of doing something. But as to myself—lately I'm beginning to see that women are at great disadvantage.
I don't like the noisy women in the world. When I look at mother's picture, I feel all I want is to live and die as she did. And I ask God that I may, and that He will hold my hand fast to the very end.
CHAPTER XVI
SAD NEWS
WAR is not glorious. It is hideous! Awful! And I hope this will be the very last war till the end of the world.
It is a long time since I have written in this diary, and I must go back first to where I left off.
We had a very happy New Year's Eve. Gervas came over, but he wasn't really himself till he came up into our schoolroom and had tea with us. We were all to dine downstairs in the dining-room for a treat, even Puff, and he was nearly off his head with delight. It is funny how fond he and grandfather are of each other. If Puff can be in the same room with him, he is perfectly happy.
Well, Gervas asked to come upstairs, for Aunt Isobel was going to give him tea in the drawing-room, but I think she was rather relieved than otherwise when we carried him off with us. In spite of having been to the front, he seemed a boy to us still, and Denys is half a head taller than he is.
How we talked! Chiefly about old times when we were in our dear old Rectory home.
He chaffed Lynette, and played with Puff, and talked "shop" with Denys. Denys had only come home the day before. He was just inclined—a tiny bit—to put on airs, but Gervas stopped that by telling him of some bounders in his regiment.
"You can always tell them by their 'swank,'" he said. "They've never been gentlemen before, and don't know that the A B C of a soldier is simplicity and humility."
And then he began to tell us little interesting bits about his life at the front in the trenches.
He did not touch on the horrors, though Aylwin tried to make him. He told us nice things about the French children, and animals, and old people that they came across, and he told us of an old woman who was living in her ruined cottage, and all her bits of furniture were broken by shells, and she only had her garden left, but that was untouched. And one Sunday morning, she stripped it of all her last flowers, and took them to lay on some fresh soldiers' graves a little distance off.
"It is only my 'thank you' to the dear boys," she said to Gervas when he asked her why she had done it.
I thought it was so sweet of her!
Gervas was better. He did not cough so much. He said he hoped he would soon be well enough to go back to his regiment. But Miss Fawcett said he would have to have at least six months more leave in England, only she did not tell him that.
We talked over our Empire League, and laughed at some of our recollections. And then he told us that he had seen Captain Rogers in town.
"He seemed pretty sick—poor chap!—that he could do nothing, but I think he is getting some clerk's job at the War Office."
"I should so like to see him again," I said. "He used to be so kind to us, and it was he who put it into the boys' heads to start that Empire League."
"Yes, he asked after you all. He said he had never met such an entertaining lot as you were, either before or since his visit to Lincolnshire. I remember the same thing struck me. You all convulsed me—especially when you tried to be solemn."
"We're growing up now," I said with a sigh. "Denys has left school, and in another year or two, I shall have done with lessons."
"Don't be grown-up too soon," Gervas said, looking at me with a little smile. "I like you as you are."
"I know one thing," said Lynette in her eager impulsive way: "that I don't mean to stop having fun when I'm grown-up. It's all nonsense to be so stiff and starched! Look at Aunt Isobel! She's not able to move her head round. She's like a poker!"
So we talked away, and were quite sorry when we had to dress for dinner.
Lynette and I wore some soft white silk dresses, with black sashes, for we were still in mourning for father. The boys smartened themselves up and Denys was in his first evening dress suit. He looked awfully nice, we thought, but he had a good many pinches from us on his way downstairs.
It was a splendid dinner, but we were just a family party, except that Aunt Grisel came over and was amongst us. She seemed to make things much more lively, and grandfather was in the best of humours, so that before dinner was over we were all laughing and talking freely.
We had some games in the drawing-room afterwards, and a little music, and then we all stayed up till twelve o'clock, and went outside on the terrace and sang "Auld Lang Syne."
As we heard the stable clock strike twelve, we were very silent. And all sorts of thoughts rushed through my mind. I looked up at the stars. God seemed so near to us that it was quite easy to speak to Him, and I asked that in the coming year He would help us all to remember father's Charge.
Gervas put his hand on my shoulder and startled me.
"Come back from the clouds, Grisel. Your spirit is wanted here."
"It is here," I said with a little laugh, "but we have begun a new year already, Gervas, and it brings solemn thoughts."
Gervas looked up into the sky.
"And the clash of arms is ringing out all over the world," he said. "I sometimes feel it won't be over till the King comes into His own again."
"Oh, Gervas, do you feel that? If only it could be! If only we could believe it!"
A little thrill came into my heart. Then I said:
"It would make us get ready, all of us, wouldn't it, Gervas, if we really believed it?"
"It would indeed," he said.
And then one of the boys came up, and we said no more. But I have been thinking about the Second Coming ever since. Why don't people talk about it more? Perhaps they have forgotten that it is really bound to come.
That was a very jolly time till Denys left us again, and then the holidays soon came to an end, and lessons began, and things went on pretty well as they did before.
One day Miss Douglas came over in great delight. She had heard from Pat that he had been offered a commission in another Irish regiment. His cousin wrote to her too, and said that Pat was getting on splendidly. Everybody loved him, and he said he would make the best kind of officer, for he would win the affection and confidence of all the men.
"So my wild laddie is going to do something yet," Miss Douglas said.
But I saw she had tears in her eyes as she spoke. We were awfully glad to hear that Pat was a proper officer now. He was too good to be anything else, and he was a born leader, we all agreed. Not quite so wise as Denys, but always so lovable! I can quite imagine the soldiers being ready to die for him.
And we all wrote a round robin to him of congratulations. Then, as time went on, and country after country began to join in, and more and more soldiers and guns were wanted, and greater numbers than ever were being killed, we began almost to wish that Denys would not be in such a hurry to go.
They were pushing them through Woolwich as fast as they could—Denys thought he might be through at the end of a six months' training. And of course we all pretended to be delighted. I think grandfather really was. He was proud of Denys at last; he saw what a fine fellow he was, and he liked to think that he would have a grandson fighting at the front.
It was just before Easter; Miss Garton had gone home, and Aylwin had come back again. I shall never forget the day. It was wild and stormy. The sea was booming and roaring, and dashing over the rocks on the beach with a sound like thunder. We were all in the schoolroom. Aylwin and Lynette were making a small model of a flying machine. Aylwin is still wild over air-ships. Puff was making a scrap-book for soldiers in hospital, and I was sitting upon the window-sill knitting a pair of mittens for Pat, and singing softly almost under my breath:
"Land of our birth, our faith, our pride,
For whose dear sake our fathers died;
Oh, Motherland! we pledge to thee
Head, heart, and hand through the years to be!"
Suddenly the door opened, and Aunt Isobel walked in.
I saw at once that something had happened. She looked quite agitated, quite unlike her calm cool self.
"Your grandfather has heard from Miss Douglas on the telephone," she said. Then she stopped as if she couldn't go on.
"Something about Pat!" I gasped, and jumped down from my perch, and let my knitting drop on the floor in my excitement.
"Yes," Aunt Isobel said, speaking very quietly now. "She has had bad news. He was killed yesterday. I thought I had better come and tell you."
Then she turned to the door, and left the room, but Lynette dashed after her.
I was literally stunned. I stood staring at the machine Aylwin was making, wondering if I were in a dream.
Pat! Jolly, laughing, reckless Pat! Pat, with his mischievous blue eyes, and brilliant smile, and curly head, lying dead and cold and still! I could not, would not believe it. There was a mistake. He could not go out of our life so suddenly. It must be another of the same name. Oh, it couldn't be Pat, he was too full of life, too young to be taken away like this!
Why did not Aunt Isobel come back and say she had made a mistake!
Aylwin sat looking at me with a white, horrified face. Puff was the only one of us who took it quietly.
"Poor dear Pat!" he said, shaking his head sadly. "I liked Pat, and now he's gone just like father!"
Then I fled to my room. I could not stand being with the others. I flung myself on my bed and sobbed and sobbed, until I was exhausted.
Then Lynette crept in. She had been crying too, for her eyes were very red.
"I think it was horrid of Aunt Isobel to go off like that! But I made her tell me all she knew. Miss Douglas had only just had a wire from the War Office saying they regretted to tell her that Pat was killed yesterday. Oh, Grisel, isn't it awful? I somehow never thought that anybody belonging to us would be killed. It was bad enough to see Gervas after his gas poisoning, but it is impossible to believe that Pat is dead! Now I feel that Denys will be killed too, directly he goes out. It's horrible! Why doesn't God strike the Kaiser dead, or swallow the Germans up with an earthquake, or do something to stop this cruel war!"
"Oh, do be quiet," I said; "and go away and leave me alone. You never stop chattering."
"It's no good to be cross. Aylwin is writing to Denys about it, and Puff has run off down to grandfather. I've nobody to talk to. Lying on your bed and crying won't bring Pat back. Do talk to me, Grisel, and say something nice. I'm perfectly miserable!"
I got off my bed. It was no good being selfish. I washed my face, and then sat down by the window, and looked out at the storm.
"I'm glad it is raining and blowing like this," I said. "At any rate, the weather does not mock at us. I should hate it to be a bright sunny day."
Lynette came and sat down by me.
"Grisel," she said in a low voice, "you wouldn't call Pat a good boy exactly, would you?"
I didn't answer for a moment, then I said stoutly:
"Lynette, I have prayed for Pat twice every day since he went out. I don't believe God would be deaf and not hear me. And you know what Pat said in his first letter to me. I showed it to you."
"Get the letter and read it again," said Lynette.
I took it out of a little box I keep my treasures in; I had read it many times myself, but I read it to Lynette again.
And we both felt comforted by it. He said he was trying to "hold fast" and read his Testament every day. That was a good deal for him to say.
"I wish—I wish we knew more about him," I said. "It seems so awful to have him die, and be buried out there just with a lot of others, and nobody belonging to him to be there."
"I hate this war," said Lynette, stamping her foot. "It ought to be stopped."
"We used to talk a good deal about sparing and sending those we loved to fight," I said. "But it was easy to talk; it's different now we have to do it. And Pat has died for his King and country. He is a hero. He couldn't do more. And if Denys dies too, we must be glad and willing, Lynette, about it."
"We never could be glad," said Lynette; "that's all humbug."
"Then we are not true patriots," I said, "and all our Empire League teaching goes for nothing. We must be glad, Lynette. If we lose Denys and Aylwin and Puff and have no brothers left, you and I must be willing, and say: 'Thank God they went to the front! Thank God we never kept them back, or darkened their last hours at home by tears and reproaches!'"
I had worked myself up by this time to a proper spirit for an English girl.
Lynette stared at me.
"Now you're in heroics!" she said. "You're trying to talk like a book. You don't really feel like that, you're only pretending!"
"Perhaps," I said, feeling in my heart that what she said was true, "perhaps if we go on pretending, we shall make it real. We have got to make ourselves brave citizens, Lynette. If we don't, we shall never be able to inspire boys and men to go and fight."
"We can be brave," said Lynette, "but we can't be glad that Pat is dead; you're not glad. You would be inhuman if you were! And we aren't acting before an audience, Grisel, so you may just as well be natural. You know quite well that you can't be glad about Pat!"
And I knew she was right. I never could be glad. I felt that I should never be happy again, with dear, merry Pat gone away from us, and if we lost Denys, there would be nothing left to live for.
For the next few days we hoped and hoped that we should hear something, but any news that came was only to say that somebody else was killed or wounded.
Peggy heard that a nephew of hers was killed, and a son of cook's was wounded, and a cousin of one of the housemaids a prisoner, and down in the village there were three different families mourning for a soldier belonging to them. I used to be so fond of Easter, but now it all seemed a mockery until we began to think of the end of the world and all the dead coming to life; then that seemed to cheer us up a little.
And then, a week later, Miss Douglas came over with letters. She and Aunt Isobel are great friends, and she always comes to show her and tell her everything. But she knew how fond we all were of Pat, and how much he was with us before he went away, so I was not a bit surprised when I was sent for to the drawing-room.
Miss Douglas kissed me when I came in, and Aunt Isobel left us and went away. I think that was very nice of her, for it is always easier for two to talk than three. Aunt Isobel had heard from Pat's Irish cousin and the colonel of his regiment and from a nurse at the base hospital. The colonel said he was one of the most promising of his young officers, and there wasn't a single man in his regiment who did not love him.
That we knew already. The colonel said that they were storming a trench, and had a terrific fire poured into them from the enemy's guns. The captain and senior subalterns were all shot, and the men wavered, and in another moment would have retreated in a panic when Pat rallied them, and led them on triumphantly. They got the trench from the Germans, and Pat was hit just when the fighting was over. That seemed so sad. But I suppose he had done his work—and then was taken.
The colonel said he had never seen Pat without a smile on his face. His cheery spirit had kept them all heartened up even on the blackest days. And then his cousin wrote, for he had discovered one of the stretcher-bearers who carried him to hospital. Pat knew he was dying. He asked them twice to put him down and take up some others who might have a chance, but they wouldn't listen to him. He was unconscious when they got him to hospital. He was shot through both lungs. But just before he lapsed into unconsciousness, he murmured, with his bright smile, "Rather dull work for you fellows—ever so much obliged to you. You've carried me A1."
Then the nurse wrote, and before she read her letter, Miss Douglas put a little parcel into my hand.
"It's for you, Grisel. It's the little book come back to you which you gave him."
I took it in my hand, struggling with my tears. The nurse's letter was the nicest of all. I'm sure she must be a good woman. She said that his patience and sweetness were miraculous. He lived for four hours after she had got him to bed. But he couldn't talk much. This was the message he gave her:
"Tell Grisel—first leaf in Testament—made good to me. And I've found
the Hand to H.F. to."
He sent his love to his aunt, and then he turned his head on his pillow and "just fell asleep," said the nurse.
I was crying fast as Miss Douglas read this to me.
"What did the dear boy mean by the 'first leaf?'" she asked me.
I opened the little Testament and showed it to her. It had a horrid stain upon it, and I knew what the stain meant, but I read the verse out loud:
"'I the LORD have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thine
hand, and will keep thee!'"
"And what did he mean by 'H.F.'?" she asked.
"Hold fast," I said, choked by my sobs.
Miss Douglas cried with me.
"I never taught him to be religious," she said. "I couldn't get hold of him. I don't know how he learnt it."
"God taught him," I said.
And I'm perfectly certain God did, and, though I was so sad, a joyful feeling came into my heart that God had listened to, and answered, my prayers. It made me feel I could and would pray for anybody and everybody now. God was so very very good to listen to me.
When Miss Douglas went away, I went upstairs and told Lynette all about it, and we cried again together, and I wrapped up the dear little Testament and put it into my treasure box with Pat's letter, and I shall keep them both there till I die.
*****
I can't go on with this diary any more. Somehow or other the war seems to stop us from doing so many things.
And to-day Denys has left us for France. He came down in khaki looking so brave and handsome. He had only twenty-four hours' leave. I know I shall never have a happy moment till he is home again. But oh, I am so certain and so glad that he is ready for whatever may happen to him.
Pat's death has sobered us. We should have sent Denys off with shouts of laughter and cheers before, quite expecting him to come back with the V.C. Now we know that he may never return; and Denys knows it too.
"Grisel," he said, as he kissed me good-bye in the porch—I was standing behind the others—"Grisel, if I share Pat's fate, you'll know I shall be quite willing. I hope I may be spared to fight the whole war through, but if I'm not, you'll see that Aylwin takes my place as soon as he can. He's only a year behind me."
"Oh, Denys—I do hope you will be kept safe. But I know it will be all right, and that you will H.F. to the last."
Denys smiled. As he drove off we gave him three cheers—and grandfather joined us.
Denys waved his cap in the air, and then he did—what only Lynette and I understood. He held up his left wrist and gripped it with his right.
And we knew that he was telling himself and us to keep father's Charge.
FINIS