The Golden Age of Science Fiction Novels Vol 04

by Anthology

  "Wants to know if you'll be much longer, sir. Expects fifty men down on him 'most any minute."

  "Tell him we'll be there in three minutes and to hang on if he has to lose every man he's got. Mount!"

  The little handful closed about the captives and hurried down the wide street to the gate, where the thankful subaltern wheeled his troopers in behind Leslie's detachment, the rearmost horsemen turning to empty their magazines at the wavering shadows flocking together for a rush, as they saw how few were opposed to them.

  Time and again as the horses tripped and stumbled along the rock-strewn track, the stones rolling away in showers of sparks under their blundering hoofs, the rear guard halted and, crouched among the boulders, sent quick streaks of flame up the path over which they had come. Time and again the Chinese bullets strayed moaning through the darkness, blindly seeking a resting-place in living flesh. It was not until they reached the open plain that the enemy, fearful of possible ambush, drew back into the hills, and the men of the Federation could halt and reckon up their losses. Four privates and a corporal lay dead back there in the city or along the stony way, and of the others, hardly one had not a bullet wound or sword cut to show. Leslie himself was bleeding freely from a jagged rent in his thigh, and before they had ridden many paces further, the lieutenant groaned and reeled in his saddle and then it was discovered for the first time that he had been shot through the left shoulder and that his uniform all down the left side was wet and sticky.

  At daybreak the detachment halted at a small village for much-needed recuperation and in order that the hurts of the injured men might be dressed. It was not safe to stop, but the horses were utterly played out and the troopers, many of them weakened by severe wounds, were in not much better case. Under the circumstances, to have pushed on would have been even greater folly. Leslie posted videttes in both directions along the road, herded his prisoners in a mud-walled house under strong guard and levied on the terrified natives for food and forage. Then, having attended to the wants of his men and horses as a good cavalry officer should, he bethought him of his own affairs and had Prince Wu brought before him.

  The Oriental entered, calm and dignified as ever, though his hands were bound behind his back and his uniform torn and disordered from the rough handling he had received, and there was blood on his cheek where the stray bullet of one of his fellow-countrymen had grazed the flesh. Leslie dismissed the guard and leaning against the mud wall of the hovel in which he had established his temporary headquarters, regarded his captive for some time in silence.

  "Does your Highness recognise me?" he asked at length, with something of a sneer at the respectful title. The other glanced at him keenly, but finally shook his head.

  "I see that I shall have to aid your memory," went on the Captain, making an effort to speak calmly. "Perhaps you will recall that about nine months ago — before war was declared — two army officers visited you on behalf of the Federation, regarding some important secrets of the Eastern allies which you had agreed to sell to them. For a certain consideration — and I might add that it was a rather large one — you promised to betray your country and deliver its vital secrets into our hands. That promise was not kept."

  The Chinaman did not reply, but a quick flash of intelligence lit up his face, which as quickly resumed its former mask of indifference. The Captain saw and continued.

  "I do not reproach you for your treachery to us — that was to be expected from one of your race. We had no faith in your word, but we did trust to your self-interest to protect us. However, that is aside from the question. I do not concern myself with what motives or interests led you to act as you did. I only know that you condemned to death a brave and loyal officer, who was my comrade and friend, and me to torture and disgrace and a life that has been worse than any death you could have imagined for me. Whatever you may have to offer in defense of your action — and I don't doubt that there is something — the fact remains that because of you Major Wilkie met his death and I my shame. You have placed a heavy obligation upon me, your Highness, but you need not fear that it is greater than I am prepared to repay."

  "You intend to murder me, then?" asked the Prince with bitter contempt. "You might as well have spared yourself this long introduction. I suspected it from the moment I knew that you were Captain Gardiner."

  "Call it murder if you please — words mean nothing to me. You gave me over to torture and the death of a common criminal. Luckily for you, I shall have to be more merciful."

  "I'm a prisoner of war. You'll have to answer for me to your commander. Have you thought of that?"

  "I'll answer for you" — Leslie laughed harshly as he strode to the rude door and made it fast — "You needn't trouble yourself on my account. It's simple enough — you managed to free yourself from your bonds and tried to overpower me and escape. Do you think my men will question the details of the story when they break the door in and find you lying dead with your hands untied? Do you think, after eating my soul out all these months with longing for revenge, I'd let a little thing like the fear of what my superiors may say stop me? I swear by all the devils in hell, I'd kill you if I knew I'd be shot within an hour after I got back to headquarters!"

  "Revenge!" repeated the other coldly. "Revenge for what? Because I had more patriotism and loyalty than you gave me credit for? Because I tricked you into thinking you had bought me body and soul, and would have saved my country if luck had not been against me? No — you want to kill me because you played the coward — because you betrayed your Federation to buy your life — because your weakness and want of courage has branded you with a shame that gives you no peace. Do you think my blood can take from your memory your own crime? Do you believe that the murder of a helpless prisoner will wipe the stain out of your soul? Shoot me and see!"

  Slowly the Captain's pistol muzzle sank downward.

  "That's true," he said in a hoarse whisper and, with a sudden movement, shoved the weapon into its holster. For a space he stood staring at his enemy with cloudy eyes. Then he moved to the door and undid the fastenings.

  "It appears that you have been in error, Captain Gardiner," said the Prince bitingly as he watched his captor. "You believed that you had an account to settle with me, while in reality it was with yourself."

  "With myself — Yes," repeated the Captain dully. He seemed to be meditating a fitting reply and at length raised his head as if about to speak, but instead he turned quickly to the door and jerked it open. "Corporal!" The soldier entered and stood at attention, awaiting his officer's instructions. "Take this man back to the others. Tell Sergeant Murphy we'll start in an hour."

  He waited until the door had closed behind the prisoner and the guard and then sank down upon the hard-packed earth of the floor, covering his face with his shaking hands.

  "He was right — God knows he was right! He acted as a loyal man should and I — oh, I deserved to have him throw my cowardice in my face! I've played the coward's part from beginning to end — mad — madness to think that by killing him I could quiet my conscience. God! — can I never find rest?" He groaned aloud and writhed on the floor in his agony. Then a sudden thought came to him and he sat up with a terrible look, his hand slipping to his holster. But he brought it away again. "You fool — you weak, miserable fool! Is that the only way left? What that all that was needed to show you what you really are?" Breathing heavily, he scrambled to his feet, dimly delighting in the sharp pain of his stiffened wound, and walked slowly to the door. "Oh, it's a cruel price to pay — a cruel price for a moment's weakness." He hesitated, choking back the sob that rose in his throat, and drawing a deep breath, squared his shoulders resolutely, and stepped forth into the sunlit village street.

  The few cavalrymen not on guard or outpost duty were squatting in what shade they could find and discussing affairs with gratifying energy. In reply to Leslie's curt questions, they assured him with cheerful profaneness that they were in good condition and quite ready to follow him into h
ell and out again on the other side whenever it suited his convenience to lead the way.

  "You'll get all the hell you want before you see the lines again," said the Captain shortly, and more than one grim chuckle showed that they appreciated the truth of his observation.

  In fact Leslie's prophecy was amply fulfilled, and when the exhausted little troop rode into Tientsin two days later, more than one observer was moved to remark that they looked as though they had marched clean across the continent and fought the whole Chinese army on the way, so pitifully worn and draggled were they, and plastered with dust and sweat and the dried blood from their wounds.

  "Don't talk to me about the glory of war," said a spruce naval cadet, watching the procession with an expression of disgust on his smooth-shaven features. "Thank God, in the navy we can at least die clean when the time comes."

  But there was no disgust on Admiral Barrows' countenance when Leslie made his report, all unkempt and filthy as he was.

  "Congratulations, Captain," exclaimed the delighted sailor, shaking Leslie's hand as though he could not make up his mind to stop; "you've added to your laurels this time and no mistake. By George, when Scott told me what you'd started out to do, I swore I'd never see you again alive or dead. Well, you won't be the loser for it. Now where the devil did I put that paper?" He stirred the mass on his table with a revolving motion and at length produced an official-looking document, which he handed to Leslie with a flourish. "That's yours if you want it — commission as major in the regular army. Of course you owe most of it to St. John. He's been moving heaven and earth to get those prize procrastinators in London to do something for you, ever since you pulled him out of that hole last spring. I contented myself with trying to have you recommended for a Distinguished Service Medal, and I think on the basis of this piece of work, it ought to go through."

  "Admiral Barrows — I —"

  "There, there — it's the Federation that's showing its appreciation — not us." He paused and stared thoughtfully out of the window at the tiled roofs, blazing in the summer sun. "My boy," he said abruptly, "I don't know all the details of your past — don't want to know them. But I do want you to feel that we — your superiors — trust you absolutely, and that whatever folly you may have committed before you came to us, you've fully atoned for. And what we've done for you in the way of promotion and reward is just our expression of that feeling and to show that we know a good man and a good soldier when we see him."

  Leslie could not reply. A flood of gratitude and happiness welled up within him, washing out with its cleansing waves the bitterness from his overburdened heart and choking back his speech. In that moment he felt that the black cloud had lifted from his tortured soul and that there had come to him the peace he had so long craved. He could never be as he was before he had set out on his mission less than a year ago. The remembrance that he had betrayed his trust would remain with him as long as he lived, like the scar of an old wound, long since healed. But he had paid the price and the debt was cancelled. Once more he could go among his fellows a free man, and though he did not know it then, a stronger and a better one for the flames that had tempered and hardened the plastic iron of his nature to steel. He turned hastily away, dashing his hand across his eyes and without a word, hurried from the room.

  The whole universe seemed to smile upon him. A little cluster of staff officers who had heard of his success and guessed his good fortune, came forward to offer their congratulations, and he noticed all at once what pleasant, warm-hearted fellows they were and how sincerely they rejoiced with him in the distinction he had won. And they, on their part, were surprised to discover that the Captain appeared to be an extremely jolly, hail-fellow-well-met kind of a chap after all, and more than suspected that he had been misjudged and that his reputation for coldness and aloofness was undeserved. Even the hot sunshine smote him between the shoulders, as he emerged from the headquarters building, like the rough but kindly hand of an old friend, unenviously glad of the honour he had achieved, and wishing him all joy.

  Smiling broadly on the world like a happy schoolboy, he made his way to the glaring brick-and-tile hospital and enquired of the busy surgeon-major in charge for news of Lieutenant Hooker, not without a momentary misgiving as to the answer he might receive.

  "Oh, he'll pull through all right," said the doctor brusquely. "Got the constitution of an ox. Want to see him?"

  "If it won't be—"

  "Can't let you stay more'n a minute or so. We've had every officer in the fleet, from the Admiral down, in to visit him ever since he became conscious. Orderly!"

  The white-coated hospital assistant guided Leslie between the long rows of cots to the further end of the big, bright, oppressively-clean ward and stopped beside the white-painted, white-sheeted bed on which the Lieutenant lay. Used as he was to the sight of wounded and sick, the inevitable wastage of war, the Captain was startled. The very wreck of his former self the naval officer seemed, and it was hard to believe that in so few days the splendour of a strong, vigorous manhood could be reduced to this. As Leslie paused at the bedside, Hooker painfully turned his bandaged head and recognising his visitor, grinned feebly.

  "Hello, Gardiner! Conquering hero — 'Our Gallant Volunteer' by the brass band — and all that, eh?"

  Leslie nodded shamefacedly and the Lieutenant's eyes brightened with interest.

  "Tell us about it, old man," he urged. In a few brief words, the Captain recounted the principal episodes of his venture, while the invalid solemnly made gestures indicative of his complete and unqualified approval.

  "— And I think," Leslie concluded, "that we've pretty well knocked the bottom out of the Chinese offensive. The men we captured were the ones who started the trouble in the first place, and have since held the country together and pushed the army ahead. Of course there's still a good deal to do. The Chinese army's far from being beaten and those fellows fight like the devil on the defensive. But the end is simply a question of time. And now, how about you? You'll get your step for that bit of work you did, of course?"

  "I'll get two grades. Barrows has recommended me for a captaincy and the D.S.M. That's worth almost being killed." He paused and looked at his friend quizzically. "I suppose you've been made a major-general?"

  Leslie laughed and in rather embarrassed fashion, told of his promotion, winding up with what the Admiral had said to him. When he had finished, Hooker, forgetting his weakness, essayed to whistle, but finding his energies unequal to the task, grinned again.

  "After all this, you'll be thinking about starting back home again pretty soon, I imagine," he hinted. "Wish I could go with you, but the doc says it'll be a month before I can be moved."

  The Captain's jaw set grimly and the old, hard, bitter expression clouded his eyes.

  "I'm going up to the northern front as soon as I have the opportunity, and ask St. John for a battalion in one of his American regiments. The war isn't over, Tommy, and even if it was — I don't know — I don't think — Tommy, I can't go home yet!"

  The Lieutenant opened his eyes wide and gazed at his friend.

  "Why, you damned fool!" he said.

  Chapter XVIII

  Table Talk

  "Oh, whistle an" I'll come to ye, my lad!

  Oh, whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad —"

  "Mabel! Mabs!"

  "Tho' father an' mother an' a' should gae mad — Did you call, Eve?"

  "Call! I've been doing nothing else for the last fifteen minutes. For goodness' sake, stop singing and get dressed, or you'll be late for dinner."

  Mabel replied with a distant giggle and appeared in the doorway, looking more elf-like than ever in her scarlet dressing-gown, over the shoulders of which her dark hair flowed in rich, rebellious ripples.

  "I can do wonders when I get started," she reminded her sister, hunting for the vagrant tassel of her gown which was trailing along on the floor behind her. "I hold the record for the family."

  "I know you can, dear, only
you never will get started — now don't stop to argue the question — you haven't time."

  "I s'pose I'll have to reform when I'm married," said Mabel with a sigh. "Goodness, what a bore it will be! It almost makes me want to change my mind and live and die an old maid."

  "Mabs, dear," exclaimed Evelyn, scandalised; "I declare, you're positively shameless. He hasn't even proposed to you yet and one would think, to hear you talk, that the wedding day was fixed and the people all invited. And that awful song you were singing —"

  "He will, though," giggled Mabel, searching wildly for stockings. "Only he's so afraid of me, he hasn't dared to so far. Think of it, Eve! — a big, strong man who wouldn't hesitate to face his Satanic Majesty in person — forgive me, honey, I didn't mean to shock you — afraid of a little mite of a thing like me! It makes me positively vain!"

  "I should think he would be, if you carry on in this manner when you're with him — those are mine, dear, but you can have 'em."

  "Thanks — I believe they suit me better than my own — Oh, I'm propriety itself. I just sit there like a demure little mousie and make my eyes big and interested and gasp, 'Oh, Captain Hookah, did you really? How perfectly thrilling!'"

  "Yes, dear. I don't doubt you do. If I remember rightly, your last conversation with him was, 'I'll bet I can shoot just as straight as you, Tommy. Bring your pistol next time you come and we'll go out back of the garage and try.'"

  "You shouldn't attempt sarcasm, honey — you mean well, but it isn't in you. Poor Tommy! I know I shock him twenty times a day, and yet he thinks everything I do or say is just about right. Tell me, sis, would you wear this or this if you were me?"

  "I think the blue, Mabs — really, dear, I believe I ought to warn him against you. Just think of how fearfully disillusioned he's going to be."

  "All the better — if I keep him constantly astonished, he won't get tired of me so soon."