by Anthology
"I understand, old fellow," he replied hastily; "you needn't say any more — no man's accountable when he's been through what you have."
"No," returned the Captain slowly; "you don't understand — you couldn't unless you knew — and perhaps not even then."
He paused, and not knowing what to say in reply, Hooker waited in silence.
"I think I'd better tell you," Gardiner continued more strongly. "No—" as the other seemed about to dissent, "— I'd much rather. I meant to bear it alone until I died — but death hasn't come and — and I can't bear it much longer."
The Lieutenant bowed his head silently, but without noticing him, the Captain went on.
"You heard that the mission to Peking came within an ace of failing utterly. You may have heard also that Major Wilkie sacrificed himself on the bare chance that the papers we were sent to get might be hidden until in some way they could be recovered and forwarded to London. That was the duty he left with me."
"I heard about the Major," said Hooker quietly. "Well?"
"They knew that I knew where the papers were hidden. They brought me before their council and tortured me to make me tell. God! how they hurt me!" He twisted his mangled fingers together in agony at the recollection and in spite of himself, the Lieutenant shuddered. "For a whole long night they tortured me, but I wouldn't tell — and then — and then they said they would kill me by inches unless I did. Oh, it wasn't the pain," he cried; "I could have stood that! It was the thought that I would never see her again— never hold her in my arms — never feel her lips on mine. All the while they tortured me, I saw her face as plainly as though she were close in front of me — her eyes — as when I said good-bye to her the last time — asking me to come back to her — I couldn't die!"
"So you told?"
The Captain bowed his head and his shoulders shook.
"I can't understand," said Hooker hoarsely; "I can't understand!"
"I knew you wouldn't — not one man in a thousand would — no one who wasn't cursed with my temperament and imagination — no one who didn't love as I loved."
"I don't understand," repeated the Lieutenant, striving for words; "I can't see — if I loved a woman truly — I would feel that my love was unworthy of her — that I myself was unworthy of her — if to possess her I sacrificed my honour."
"Love! You don't know the love that bound me. Beside it honour — my very soul itself — were as mere nothings — trifles to be whistled down the wind with no thought of loss as long as I had her."
"Pray God I may never love like that," said the Lieutenant in a low voice.
"Pray God you never will. For her I was ready to go down into the deepest hell — as I have done."
"If that is so — if you cared for nothing but your love for her — why did you not go back to her when you were free? Why are you here?"
"If that is so, did I say? Ah, but I was wrong. It's not so now."
More and more puzzled, the Lieutenant felt in his pocket and filled his pipe afresh as if seeking by that means to aid the confusion in his whirling brain.
"Listen," said the Captain, bending forward and speaking more rapidly; "when they released me, I went to the house of one of our native spies who lived close by — he who found the papers in the Major's body and took them to London. He let me hide there until I was stronger and before he left, I made him promise to let it be thought that I had died — I had had a few hours to think and I had already begun to see that it was better so."
Hooker nodded energetically and his brow began to clear.
"I stayed in hiding until the war broke out — thinking — thinking always. And the more I thought, the more clearly I realised that I had been mistaken in my love for her — that there was something far better than possessing her and that was to be worthy of her. If I had only realised that before! I had won her too easily. My first love for her was a blind and selfish passion. True love — the only love worthy of a woman — would have suffered anything — would have even renounced her, rather than have her touched by the slightest breath of dishonour or shame. I can see that now — how clearly I can see that now! And I thank God that I have been given the strength to prove that I really love her by remaining dead to her until death comes." He stopped and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "But that isn't all. I still owe my life to the cause I knowingly betrayed — and that debt is unpaid."
The Lieutenant rose from his chair and paced the floor of the cabin, torn by many perplexities.
"See here, Captain," he burst out at length; "I — God knows I honour you for the attitude you've taken in this matter, but — but I'm damned if I don't think you're carrying it too far. If the girl really cares for you — and I sincerely believe she does — she'll understand and forgive you and love you all the better for what you've suffered because of her. I'll confess I can't quite understand, even after what you've told me, how you happened to slip up, but Lord knows you've paid for that twice over by what you did two weeks ago. Anyhow, men aren't built the same and I realise that you're more finely strung than I am. Good God, Gardiner, we're only human and bound to make mistakes sometimes and there's no mistake so bad that it can't be cured in time. What would life be worth if one error could damn us forever?"
But the Captain shook his head and smiled sadly. "I know you mean it kindly, Hooker," he replied; "but if you were in my place — if you had on your soul what I have on mine — would you be willing to say ' I'm sorry,' and let it go at that?"
The Lieutenant ran his hand through his curly hair despairingly.
"No," he said as though every word was being dragged from him, "I — don't — believe — I — would."
"Then," said Gardiner quickly, "you'll let me see this business through in my own way and keep my secret?"
The Lieutenant turned to the open porthole, already bright with the approaching day, and then back to the cabin again, and finally resumed his restless pacing of the worn carpet.
"Damn it all!" he exploded; "there must be some middle course we can steer if we could only find it. If you'd let me write —"
"No," interrupted Gardiner hastily; "no one must know — I trust to your honour that no one except yourself will ever know this — what I have told you."
Hooker hesitated in his uneasy walk and finally seated himself on the desk close to the Captain.
"Let's make a bargain, Gardiner," he suggested. "I'll promise to keep my mouth shut and furthermore to do any lying for you that may seem useful and necessary up to the end of the war. After that, you'll let me tell all this to some one of your friends at home — Evelyn herself for choice, or possibly Mabs — her sister would be better to begin with, or even Professor Merriam — he seems to be a good friend of yours. That'll relieve my conscience a heap and smooth the path out for you a bit. Great guns, Captain, you might as well say yes while you can. I'll probably do it anyhow, and by that time you'll either be dead or have redeemed yourself beyond all possible question."
"That won't do, Hooker," said Leslie steadily; "I must have your absolute, unequivocal promise that you will not repeat a word of what has passed to-night to any one — any one, you understand — unless I give you permission."
The Lieutenant made a helpless gesture.
"Oh, all right," he said grudgingly, "I'll promise — needs must when the devil drives, as the old saying goes. Jove, you high-spirited, conscientious fellows are enough to drive a man wild. When you once get some fantastic ideal of conduct in your head, there's no doing anything with you. But I'll be damned if I don't respect you for it."
He slipped to his feet from the desk with a sigh — half admiration, half commiseration.
"Hope you haven't any conscientious scruples against going to bed," he grumbled, opening the cabin door; "because you're going if it takes the whole crew to get you there — no, you're not turning anybody out. It's my sub's quarters and he'll be on duty most of the time until we make port. Good-night — or I should say, good-morning, seeing that the
sun's just risen."
He turned to go, but Leslie caught his hand in a strong grip.
"You're a damned good-hearted fellow, Hooker," he said huskily; "and you've helped me more than you realise. I won't forget."
But the Lieutenant freed himself, blushing with embarrassment to the temples, and fled to his cabin. He seated himself on his couch and rapidly divested himself of his coat and shoes and loosened his belt. His eyes encountered the alluring, tantalising face of Mabel Thornton laughing out from her golden frame, and he remained bolt upright, lost in thought, unconsciously holding his heavy automatic navy pistol, which he had just withdrawn from its holster, in a position which, to the casual observer, would have suggested premeditated suicide.
"Poor Gardiner!" he said half aloud; "whole life ruined by a woman — and yet it certainly wasn't her fault. She's had just as hard a time of it as he has, though in a different way, of course. Still if it hadn't been for her — "He shook his head mournfully and becoming aware of the vicious-looking weapon he held in his hand, rose and laid it mechanically on the desk, still staring at the picture. "I wonder if it's worth it," he exclaimed suddenly; "worth risking one's soul as Gardiner did — or one's peace of mind — or the Lord only knows what, on the chance — not even the certainty — just the chance, that one may get a larger measure of happiness? It was woman who first brought trouble into the world according to the old legend, and Lord knows, her descendants have kept up the family reputation — only they blame it all on the unintelligence of mankind." He made a movement as if to tear the picture from the wall, but checked himself and allowed his empty hand to fall to his side. "No," he said, "after all it wasn't her fault. She didn't know how it would affect him. Anyhow, Mabs"— he flushed a little at the free use he had permitted himself to make of her name — "is a girl who would push a man forward — not hold him back."
With this reflection he finally curled himself up on his couch, and despite the bright sunlight that streamed through the porthole, fell asleep instantly.
Chapter XIV
The Horse Marines
"WELL, you old amphibian," hailed Tommy Hooker lazily, folding up the letter he had been perusing in the warm sunshine and stretching himself; "how are the horse marines coming on?"
The Lieutenant was seated in a most undignified attitude on the smoothest portion of a ragged mass of concrete which had formerly constituted a small portion of the Pei-ho defences at Taku, the rapid disintegration of which bore eloquent testimony to the accurate shooting of the navy big guns. On his left, the yellow-brown river curved muddily between its low banks, bearing on its dingy surface a little cluster of navy dirigibles, while further on around the bend, the masts of several gunboats broke the monotonous view.
Leslie checked his unlovely mount and swung himself gracefully from the low saddle. The past few months had improved his appearance wonderfully. His heavy blond beard was carefully trimmed and he wore a neatly-fitting, albeit dusty and sweat-stained, grey-green uniform with the scarlet piping of the marine corps.
"I think a friend of yours has come to town," he remarked, ignoring the Lieutenant's enquiry.
"That so?" asked Hooker with interest, coming suddenly to attention. "Who is it?"
"I saw an army aeroplane outside headquarters as I passed and one of those beardless children whom the navy department delegates to help boss around real men in war time, volunteered the information that a despatch runner from General St. John had just come in."
"Wonder if it can be Dick French?" pondered the Lieutenant. "Hope it is. I haven't seen him since just before I started out to pick you up."
"Well, I kind of thought you'd be interested," admitted Gardiner; "so I instructed the cherub who gave me my information to lay hands on the messenger when he emerged and if it was French, to tell him you were over here."
"Must say I'm obliged to you," acknowledged Hooker, lapsing into an unconcealed yawn. "Ye gods, I hope his message means active service. This lazy life is slowly killing me off by degrees. If something doesn't happen pretty soon, I'll volunteer for the flying-fish brigade myself. How'd the drill go to-day?"
"Was that a letter from Mabel you were reading?" asked the Captain irrelevantly.
"Why — ah — that is to say, yes," replied the navy man with heightened colour. "I'll not try to deceive you — it was."
"Did she say anything about —?"
"Here — read for yourself," said Hooker, handing over the precious letter without hesitation; "and I hope it may help to bring you to reason," he added under his breath, and aloud, "Hello! Here's the mosquito driver in person."
In fact it was the aviator himself, who, scrambling over the rubbish that marked the site of the one-time battery, shook the Lieutenant's hand warmly and turned to Leslie with an air of doubt.
"Allow me to present Captain — ah — Smith of the horse marines," said Hooker hastily; "Captain Smith — Lieutenant French of the aviation corps. You can easily tell, Dick, by a casual inspection of the Captain's mount that the poor beast's principal diet consists of corn and beans."
"Wish mine did," returned the aviator with a short laugh; "I don't feed on anything half so filling. But haven't we met before, Captain?" he asked bluntly.
"I think we have, Lieutenant," answered Leslie soberly; "you've sharp eyes. You carried me on a rather important mission a few months ago."
"I thought so," said French with a satisfied air. "Jove, Captain, you've altered a trifle since then."
"Oh, he's a person of importance now," broke in the irrepressible Hooker; "member of Colonel Gordon's staff."
"I shouldn't think he'd require any reflected glory," said the army man sincerely and then perceiving Leslie's embarrassment, he went on hastily, "But you chaps must give me an account of yourselves. My only object in coming over here in the first place was to be entertained."
"Well," began Hooker, taking the duty upon himself, "as you can see, we came, saw, and overcame quite after the fashion of the ancients. But I'll admit, it took some hard fighting to do it. Those Chinese know how to shoot."
"And now you're all ready for a raid on Peking?"
"Well," said Hooker, pulling at his upper lip; "as to that, I can't say. It was a common rumour through the fleet when I came here a month ago, but we're still waiting for sailing orders. But Barrows has been going around the last few days with a grin on his face like a Cheshire cat and that usually means he has something or other up his sleeve. It oughtn't to be a hard job, now that all the first line troops are in Manchuria."
"What force have you got?"
"About 12,000 sailors and marines and two regiments of American reservists on the way from the Philippines. We're rather weak in artillery, though."
"Cavalry?"
"Couple of squadrons and some horse artillery coming with the Americans. Oh, and we have the horse marines — I nearly forgot those. That's your story though, Captain."
"Horse marines?" French turned to Leslie enquiringly.
"An idea of Admiral Barrows'," said Gardiner, smiling. "You see, we were pretty short of cavalry for an enterprise of this kind, so he conceived the plan of rounding up all the horses and ponies he could lay his hands on and mounting about 4,000 men of the marine corps. According to Barrows, a marine should know a little of everything, and if horsemanship, through some strange oversight, hadn't been included up to date, it was time that it was. So for a while horse stealing was part of our daily routine and cavalry drill as common as rifle practice. And you know, the beggars really took to it wonderfully, and now that they're over being saddle-sore, you'd almost think they'd never seen deep water."
"What was your part in all this, Captain?"
"Oh, Barrows hadn't any use for me right away, so I got tired of sitting around doing nothing and volunteered for the deep-sea cavalry. I used to ride quite some when I was — that is, when I was at home. And Barrows recommended me to Colonel Gordon for one of his staff officers. So I got a uniform and the honorary rank of captain of
volunteers, and now I'm a full-fledged horse marine until something better turns up."
"Doesn't sound half bad," said the aviator rather enviously. "Anyhow, it's a sight better than squatting on your hunkers and scratching flea bites. Do you suppose, Tommy, there's such a thing as a bathtub in all this fine, big fleet? I haven't had my clothes off for over a month."
"I guess so," replied the navy man, rising. "Will you have it now? My stone's getting too hard for comfort anyway."
"What's the military situation?" asked Leslie, as they moved towards the river bank.
"Not bad," said French. "At least it's a good deal better than it was. Remy with ten corps is driving the Japanese back on Vladivostok in the north and I expect they're in rather a tight place. Isn't that so?" he asked, appealing to the naval officer.
"Guess you're right," said Hooker. "Most of our big ships are up there now shelling the forts, and the Japs are having the devil of a time getting supplies. They counted on smashing the army before the fleet could get there."
"In the south," went on French, "St. John with 400,000 men more or less is holding the Chinese on the upper Sungari, and the last few days he's been taking the offensive. Yes, I think the situation on the whole is improving."
"There's a long way to go yet," said Leslie; "even if the Japanese have to give up, the Chinese won't for some time. It's a fight for life with them and they know it."
"Do you really believe the Japs will quit soon?" asked the naval officer.
"What else can they do, Tommy? Suppose Remy corners their first army in the north, as he's reasonably sure to do, unless something happens. Well, that's the last we'll hear from them in this war. A million men in Nippon won't do them any good as long as we hold the sea. The Japs are some of the best little soldiers on earth, but they're not fools. They won't hold out after they're beaten. You just wait and see."