by Bartimeus
*III.*
A P. & O. liner, a few months later, carried Jerry and Jubbs to China.During the voyage they came in contact with a hitherto unrecognisedfactor in life, and found themselves faced with unforeseen perplexities.One evening, as they leaned over the rail experimenting gingerly withtwo cigars, Jubbs unburdened himself. "... Besides, they jaw such awfulrot," was his final summary of feminine allurements. Jerry nodded,tranquil-eyed. "I know. I told Mrs What's-her-name--that woman withthe ear-rings--that I'd got one mother already; and as I'm going toChina, and she's going to India, I didn't see the use of beingtremendous friends. 'Sides, she's as old as the hills."
Jerry! Jerry! The lady in question was barely thirty, even if she hadan unaccountable partiality for taking him into the bows to watch themoon rise over the Indian Ocean.
They joined their ship at Hong-Kong, and found themselves members of acrowded, cockroach-haunted gunroom, where every one was on the best ofterms with every one else, and there reigned a communism undreamed of intheir philosophy. It is said that in those days of stress and novelty,among unknown faces and unfamiliar surroundings, their friendship boundthem in ever-closer ties. The Sub-Lieutenant, when occasion arose forthe chastisement of one, thrashed the other out of sheer pity. Theykept watch, took in signal exercise, went ashore, shot snipe, picnickedand went through their multifarious duties generally within hail of oneanother. Till at length Jerry's call of "Jubbs!" and Jubbs' unfailing"Coming!" brought half-wistful smiles to older eyes.
The Boxer rising broke out like a sudden flame, and their letters home,those voluminous and ill-spelt missives that meant so much to therecipients, announced the momentous tidings. Jerry was landing incharge of a maxim gun; Jubbs was to be aide-de-camp to the Commander.Their whites were being dyed a warlike tint of khaki, and they werebeing sent up to take part in the defence of Tientsin. For a whilesilence, then at last a letter scrawled in pencil on some provisionwrappers. Jerry boasted a three-weeks' growth of stubble, and hadkilled several peculiarly ferocious Boxer bravos. They were lookingforward to being moved up to Peking for the relief of the Legations, andthere was practically no danger as long as a fellow took reasonableprecautions. He had not seen Jubbs for some time, but expected to meethim before long.
As a matter of fact, they came together the next afternoon, and theirmeeting-place was a Joss-house that had been converted into a temporaryfield-hospital. Jerry was the first to arrive, "in the bight of acanvas trough"--Jerry, very white and quiet, a purple-brown stainspreading over his dusty tunic and a bullet lodged somewhere near thebase of the spine. Towards sunset he became conscious, and the RedCross nursing sister supported his head while he drank tepid water froma tin mug. "'Sparkling Cider,'" he whispered weakly, "for luck, ...thank you, mummie darling."
The firing outside was becoming intermittent and gradually growing moredistant, when the patch of dusty sunlight in the doorway was darkened bya fresh arrival. The stretcher party laid him on the bed next to Jerryand departed. The Surgeon made a brief examination, and as hestraightened up, met the pitying eyes of the Red Cross sister. He shookhis head.
"The poor children," she whispered. Outside there came a sudden renewalof firing and the spiteful stammer of a maxim. It died away, and therewas silence, broken by the buzzing of flies in the doorway and the soundof some one fighting for his breath. In the heavy air the sickly smellof iodoform mingled with the odours of departed joss-sticks andsun-baked earth.
Suddenly, from a bed in the shadows, a weak voice spoke--
"Jubbs!" said Jerry.
A moment's pause, while the motionless figure in the next bed gatheredenergy for a last effort of speech. Then--
"Coming!" said Jubbs.