A Tatter of Scarlet: Adventurous Episodes of the Commune in the Midi 1871

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER XXIX

  WITHIN THE PALE

  It was indeed high time that I went away from the perils ofAramon-les-Ateliers. Indeed, Keller Bey was in greater danger andcondemned to greater isolation owing to my stay. At first he had countedit a happiness to talk with me of things outside his unfortunate officeas head of the Commune. But even Pere Felix and the more dependable ofthe little band of members of the Government, faithful to their head,showed something like the cold shoulder when Keller withdrew regularlyto find me in his parlour as soon as the seance was over.

  I waited most of a dark and moonless night for the coming of Jack Jaikesto the corner of the wall. At the first sound of my voice he threw overa rope to help me to scramble up. He himself was astride the top when Igot there and we were inside the fortifications within thirty seconds.

  And lo! how easy it all was--and what a difference! I seemed a thousandmiles away from everyone on the town side, and now only a few rodsdivided me from the house of friends--from the sudden breaking ires ofDennis Deventer and the quiet smiles of his wife, a mistress within herown domain. Yes, and from Rhoda Polly--though I have left her to thelast, I had not forgotten Rhoda Polly.

  "Well," said Jack Jaikes, "ye've come at last, as ye had much betterhave done at the first, biding there among anarchists' trash andbreakers of God's beautiful machinery. God knows I am as good a Liberalas ever voted for what Maister Gladstone said was right--yes, me and myfaither before me. But before I would mix mysel' up with such a lazy,unclean, unsatisfied, cankered crew--sakes alive, I wad raither turnTory at yince and lose my self-respect!"

  This was a terrible threat for Jack Jaikes, who had brought away fromScotland no particular religion, except (as was common in these years)that unbounded adoration of Mr. Gladstone, which culminated in 1880.

  For that night Jack Jaikes made me a shake-down among his own gang, andurged me to get the Chief to let me serve there.

  "Man, I could be doing wi' ye fine," he said, "even though ye do not kenone end of a gun from anither till she goes off! But there's a headpieceon ye and they tell me that ye are fair bursting with the mathematics!"

  I told him I was better at classics, and he was, I think, more desirousof my company than ever.

  "My brither passed for the kirk and was something of a dab at the Greek.You learned yours here in France--will that be the same sort? It will?That's grand. Ye can gie me a bit help, then? I have some o' his auldcollege buiks in my box. I hae put in heaps o' spadewark at readin'them, but it is a dreary business by yersel'! For ane foot that ye gangforward, ye slip back twa, as the Irishman said aboot the road coveredwith ice!"

  Above my head great steel armatures rose high in the air. The flittinglanterns brought out now the brass knobs of a governor, now the dimglistening bulk of a huge fly-wheel away up near the roof of the shedwhich Jack Jaikes and his men used as a dormitory. There was one fixedlight which shone upon the instrument attached to a little fieldtelegraph. Jack Jaikes had given up his idea of a wholesaleelectrocution of an attacking force--that is, Dennis Deventer hadcompelled him to give it up. But he had perfected a kind of burglaralarm applied to a wider area, which completely encircled the works and(separately) protected the Chateau and its grounds. If anyone interferedwith his wires at any point, Jack Jaikes could instantly warn thenearest post to the disturbance, and the men would swarm out like wasps.

  The plan had its little inconveniences. Cats in particular loved andwere loved upon the great factory wall. But Jack Jaikes devised means,by "stinging them up a bit" electrically, to make them "leave that," ashe expressed it.

  Rooks also came to perch and left with a whoop of terror, or clungdesperately head down with paralysed claws firmly knotted till the menplucked them off and threw them into a corner to recover.

  But the first company of the Avengers, tentatively scrambling about thenorth-west corner to see what sort of watch the English kept, werepromptly checked by a dozen bayonets thrust down from above, and havingreceived information, they departed without standing on ceremony.

  Let it not be thought that I slept much in the power-house. It wasaltogether too picturesque and vivid for me. My heart beat with arousing and incommunicable joy. I was again among my own kind. I haddone my best to sympathise with those others over the wall. I had triedto help and understand Keller Bey, but though I might wear the redcardigan, follow Garibaldi, run up the "tatter of scarlet" under KellerBey's orders, my heart beat with the after-guard. My instincts were"yellow"--the rest was but the rash of the blood which came with youthand would pass like a malady of childhood.

  Small wonder I did not sleep. Into that entrancing and mysterioushangar, hooded and cloaked men stole from nowhere in particular. Eachgave a kick or a shake in passing to other men, who, silently rising,cloaked themselves, seized arms, adjusted belts, and so wordlesslyclanked away into the dark. Then the new-comers would go over to theembers of the fire on the forge in the corner, where the red glow wouldreveal him as a pleasant-faced English lad, munching ardently his breadand sausage, or heating his coffee on the coals. In the gloom of thedormitory shake-downs men would talk rapidly, muttering in their sleep.If a man snored too vigorously, Jack Jaikes, or a lieutenant of thatconsiderable sub-chief, would turn him over on his side, or, in extremecase, send him to the boiler-room, where the men had room to snore oneagainst the other. These Jack Jaikes, always reminiscent of Glasgow,called the "Partick Social Warblers," in memory of a certain churchglee-club soiree, to enter which he had once paid a "silver collection"in the unfulfilled expectation of "tea and a bag."

  But that night as I lay I kept awake for the pure joy of knowing myselfalive. I loved the breathing of the men about me, the ordered mystery ofthe comings and goings, the clicking of the telegraphic machine as JackJaikes bent over it, even the little circle of golden light which thelamp shed, and the bristly way his moustache had of standing out beyondthe wicks of his grimly humorous mouth.

  I wondered if he ever slept. Certainly he lay down. He had a blanketwith which he covered himself, head and all. It was not much of ablanket, being pierced in the centre so that it could be worn with thehead thrust through, poncho-wise, as he stalked about. It was full ofburnt holes, showing where he had thrown himself down on cinders, someof which had proved too recent.

  About four there came a shrill _tirr-r-r-r_ of the small call-bell andevery sleeper was instantly on his feet. How Jack Jaikes got to theticker I do not know, but long before the men had their belts snapped,he was reading off to them the location of the alarm.

  "Between posts 48 and 49, Norwell and Omand warned. Ready there, fileout!"

  The dark figures passed one by one out of the faint copper glow of theforge, stood each a moment against the blue-black mystery of the nightframed in the doorway, and were then lost in the obscurity.

  I thought of following, but first of all I was afraid of Jack Jaikes,who had made no sign to me, and secondly and chiefly, in a yard andamong defences so sown with dangers and (for all I knew) corded withlive wires, I might easily do myself much harm, and the general welfareof the cause little good. So, sorely against the grain, I stayed where Iwas.

  Presently the men came laughingly back, their humour quite vanished. Twoof the town goats--for Aramon was near enough to the mountains and toSpain to possess many of these--had chosen to contest the narrow way tothe factory wall, from a pure point of honour as gentlemen should, forthere was no lady in the case. They had died fighting, and a bayonet'spoint had been requisitioned to dislodge them both. They were nowbrought in and handed over to the cook for preparation. Both had beenhard fighters in their time, and looked as if they would furnish whatCaroline in "The Heir at Law" calls "not an inviting meal."

  Everybody was now fully waked up, and no one thought any more of sleep.The night was still of the indigo dark peculiar to the South, andoutside, I could see the stars sinking one by one. The glow on theforge-hearth was set blazing, tea billies were soon boiling, and therewas a fragrant smell of coffee in the air. The cl
ean, appetising hiss offrying bacon struck a joyous note. Someone set a big globe of electriclight flaring, when, _whisk-whisk_, a quartette of bullets tore throughthe shed and knocked it to flinders.

  Then in like an avenging genie entered Jack Jaikes.

  "If I kenned wha that idiot was that set yon infernal thing blazing, Iwould knock the amazing friskiness out o' him. Have I not telled ye ascore o' times that ye are no to make exhibitions o' yerselves?Exhibitions, did I say, waur nor that, juist blank eediot targets thatthe Frenchmen haena sense enough to hit!"

  He made a silence about him, for all knew that his angers were black andthat he would stick at nothing, but, if provoked, strike with what camenearest to his hand.

  But the mood passed, the globe and carbons were renewed, and by the endof their early breakfast his good-humour also was quite restored. Themen moved easily again without casting furtive eyes to see how the blackdog was riding Jack Jaikes. They knew him for an incomparable fightingleader, an engineer without rival in the camp, but there was no doubtthat he needed humouring when, as he would have said himself, "his birsewas up." It had been remarked, even before he left the Clyde, that hewas "far ower handy wi' a spanner," and that might have been the reasonwhy he had tried Bristol and the Tyne before finding his master inDennis Deventer of the Arms Factory of Aramon.

  I broke in upon the Deventers at breakfast--a meal which in defiance ofall local custom they took together as they had been used to do far awayin Barrow under the Cumberland fells. Or rather it was Jack Jaikeshimself who did the breaking. He could not deny himself that.

  We heard the noise and clatter as we mounted the stairs.

  "A fight," chuckled Jack Jaikes, half to himself, "but two to one onRhoda Polly, anyway."

  But he had his little effect to make. He flung the door open, groundedhis rifle with a ringing clash, and announced in a stentorian voice:

  "A deserter!"

  The clamour ceased instantly. Every face was turned towards the door,Dennis Deventer half rose, his napkin in his hand. I could see the pale,clear-cut features of Rhoda Polly, her red lips parted, peering over herfather's shoulder.

  Dennis Deventer received me with a friendly push that sent me in thedirection of Hugh, who "cleared" like a goal-keeper, and I fell into achair beside Rhoda Polly.

  "Come in, Jack Jaikes--what will you take? Try those kidneys--they arerather good. No, no, your chaps can't want you so soon. You are nothatching them out there, you know!"

  These and other cries at last persuaded Jack Jaikes to do what he wasyearning to do--sit down and eat a second breakfast with his master'sfamily. His grin was at once triumphant and sardonic, yet he left me toanswer for myself. His pleasure was not to talk much at these festivalsof his soul. I think he was fearful of what he called "langwage"--suchas he used occasionally in the works--escaping his control. At any ratehe was a happy listener, and the few words he uttered were alwaysdestined to foment a discussion, acerbate a verbal quarrel, so that hecould lay mental bets upon his admired Rhoda Polly. When she made a goodhit, he felt inclined (as he confessed) to rise up and yell, "like agallery student on an opera night"--a set of savages whom he had knownduring the college days of his brother, now a creditable and responsible"placed" minister in Scotland.

  When I announced that I had come to stay Rhoda Polly nearly trod my footoff under the table, a vulgar disgrace to our comradeship for which sheapologised afterwards.

  "I had to do it," she said, "or I should have been blubbering on yourshoulder with my arms about your neck! How would you have liked that,Angus my lad?"

  I answered, that before company I should have liked it ill enough, butproffered my shoulder for the purpose since we were in private. RhodaPolly in her turn cried shame upon me. If I could not remember ourcompact, she would not forget it. She also reminded me of saying of myown accord that she and I had put away childish things. In vain Irepresented to her that I had just returned from great danger and thatif she had been so overwhelmed with joy at breakfast as to make pemmicanof my foot, she must have still some remaining for which a suitableexpression might be found without looking out the word in thedictionary.

  But Rhoda Polly would have none of my suggestions. She was glad she hadshown her feelings, however irregularly, but now if I pleased we wouldresume our good old talks together, at least when the incidents of thesiege permitted.

  Her father did not allow her to run round the yard or about the postswith the men, as she had been wont to do during the first Januarydifficulties.

  "Oh, it isn't that," she said, answering a question in my eyes which wasalso an accusation; "of course some of them think I'm nice and all that.But it isn't that! I'm not Liz! Only father says that there are sniperson the towers--the cathedral, St. Servan's, St. Marthe's, and St.Crispin's--and he doesn't want any accidents happening to his eldestdaughter. But I am sure the boys miss me. I know Jack Jaikes does. Hetold me so when he came in to arrange mother's sewing machine, which I'wrongulated' on purpose to hear the news."

  Later I retold Dennis Deventer the story of the coming trouble in Aramonand the despair of Keller Bey. He listened without surprise, hisdeep-set Irish eyes almost hidden under his twitching, bushy brows.

  "There's a man that is obleeged to me, Angus me lad. He runs a copperore boat from Huelva--that's in Spain--to Marseilles. If we could getthe owld Keller man down there, I know a boatman in the Joliette whowould give him shelter till the steamer lifts her anchor. There is noneed for him to be desperate about any such thing. The world is wide andGovernments in this country are made of cardboard and bad paste. He willbe amnestied in a year or two. Can the man not be reasonable?"

  I told him that the difficulty lay there. Keller Bey considered himselfbound to those who had helped him to set up the Commune in Aramon. Hewould make no separate peace for himself.

  "Separate fiddlesticks!" shouted Dennis Deventer. "Does he mean suchcomfortable old soup-bags as Pere Felix, or wine-skins likePipe-en-Bois, or alcohol gutters like the Marshal Soult? Let him set hismind at rest. They are safe. No Government while I live shall harm ahair of their heads. They will never stand behind a barricade--neverfire a shot; if they will be careful not to fall downstairs aftercelebration suppers to the memory of Danton and Marat and the men of'48, they will all die in their beds and have their memories honoured inturn by the suppers of another and redder generation!"

  There was truth in what Dennis said. These were not the men who woulddie fighting when the day of reckoning came. The young sullen wolf'sbreed of the sidelong glances and the whispered counsels--these werethose who would line the last ditches of the defence of Aramon.

  But, then, Keller Bey felt that he was responsible also for them. He wastheir chief and normal leader. He had the secrets of the Internationaleand he had made proselytes, even among the young people. Could he leavethem and flee? I knew very well Keller Bey's line of argument, and I putit to Dennis. He clapped his knee testily.

  "Oh, for a good Scots or Ulster head on a man--even English would dobecause of the fine, solid underpinning and bodygear the Lord God putsinto his southern-built vessels. But when a man gets this megrim ofhonour in his brain, there is no saying beforehand what he will or willnot do--except that it will surely be eediocy."

  "It's a pity, too," he added, after thought, "a man that can be talkingthe Arab or the Turkish with men like your father (God bless him) andold Professor Renard."

  I suggested that there was one factor we were overlooking--that it wasmore than likely that before long the Conservative Commune of Aramonwould be displaced and with it would disappear the rule of Keller.

  No, I did not think they would kill him. They would probably expel theex-Dictator and let him go where he would. Then would be the time tosecure him, and send him to the captain of the Huelva cargo-boat.

  Dennis patted me on the head.

  "We cannot be sure of doing much," he said, "but we can always have atry. We shall probably be desperately busy ourselves if the wild rakestake the lead over th
e wall yonder. They will come at us, not this timein undisciplined rush, but with method and well armed--thanks to thefolly of the National Assembly."

  Still, Dennis Deventer had a card up his sleeve. "You must wait with usand see the rubber played out."