Wings over England

by Roy J. Snell

  _Chapter_ XXII Roll Out the Barrel

  Sunday came and with it the knowledge that before dawn of the next daythe good ship Queen Bess would be on her way to America. And on thatship would ride Tillie, Peggy and their escort, Cherry.

  Early Sunday morning the social worker from the subway and the littlered-headed Irish pianist arrived in a car before the door of theHideout.

  “All the people of our subway have read in the paper about your trip toAmerica,” the social worker said to Cherry. “They want you to attend afarewell party.”

  “But I can’t sing. Can’t even speak out loud,” Cherry whispered.

  “We know that,” exclaimed the little redhead. “They know it and aresorry for you. But you can still smile.”

  “Yes.” Cherry proved her answer by a happy smile.

  “That’s all that matters,” exclaimed the social worker. “Then you willcome?”

  “Yes.” Cherry swallowed a happy lump in her throat. “I’ll come.”

  “We’ll all go down in my car,” the young Lord said later in the day.“When the party is over it will be about time for you to take the trainfor your port.”

  “And we’ll all go down to the port to see you off,” Alice added with agrand smile.

  That party in the subway was like nothing that ever happened before. Sohappy were the people at sight of their Singing Angel that they stood ontheir feet and shouted for a full five minutes.

  It was Sunday night, but as if they must crowd weeks of joy into onewonderful night the people took the program in their own hands and sangeverything from “Roll out the Barrel” to “God Save the King” and from“I’ve got my Eyes on You” to the “Glory Song.”

  Ah yes! That was a night Cherry would not soon forget. One moment theywere bowing before the Old Rugged Cross, the next they were Rolling theOld Chariot along. When at the very end someone started “God be with youtill we Meet Again,” many an eye was moist. But at the very middle ofthe song a huge man who could stand no more emotion roared out in aterrific basso:

  “We’ll roll the old chariot along.” And so, with a glorious shout theyonce again rolled the old chariot. Then the party was at an end.

  It was a jolly party that, as Big Ben struck the hour of ten, boardedthe train bound for the seaport town where the Queen Bess lay at anchor.Children with their sponsors filled every compartment of the train.

  When they at last reached their destination and swarmed out on theplatform the children began singing:

  “Roll Out the Barrel.” And no one said, “Hush, this is Sunday.” Buteveryone took up the song. For this was the children’s hour.

  There was no singing as, after finding their compartment for them, thelittle group from Ramsey Farm prepared to bid goodbye to Cherry, Tillieand Peggy.

  Every one of them knew that their little group was breaking up andperhaps forever. They had shared joy and sorrow. A brother, two sisters,a life-long friend, a new-found pal from across the sea and two littlewaifs from the slums of London, they silently shook hands in the dark,then whispered, “Goodbye-Goodbye! Goodbye! And lots of good luck!”

  On the way back on the train Alice whispered to Dave, “I wish Cherryhadn’t gone.”

  “Why?” Dave stared.

  “I don’t know. I just wish it, that’s all.”

  And so, through the blackout, the little English train carried them backto London.

  Next day Alice returned to her improvised buttery and her churn. But thesong that so often had enlivened her task as the dasher went up and downwas silenced.

  For Dave the joy of flying increased with every morn. To climb up fromthe earth, to greet the dawn, to lose himself in the clouds, ah! thatwas joy beyond compare.

  “If it only weren’t war,” he whispered to himself. And yet war did giveit an added tang. It was like the nipping frost in the air that greetsthe ice-skater or the singing of the sled runners that delights the earsof the dog-team racer. He did look forward to the day when the youngLord’s penalty should be paid and the four of them would again be in theair.

  The day came and they thundered away with the break of day. On this day,however, Heinie apparently was content to stay at home. Not a speckmarred the blue of that little patch of the sky over England theyclaimed as their own.

  “We’ll meet them again,” the young Lord’s tone was confident, as at lastthey returned to earth.

  “Wolves, weasels, skunks, and all kinds of varmints visit the samelittle corner of the earth time after time. So do the Jerries. That bigboaster, Wick, will return. And then!” It was clear that he had notforgotten the loss of his most beloved flying mate, Fiddlin’ Johnny.

  “I wonder,” Dave said thoughtfully. “Does Wick always fly his men inthat V-shaped formation?”

  “Always, I am told,” was the answer.

  “He assumes that we want to get at him and that we’ll go for the manprotecting his tail,” Dave said thoughtfully. “That gives his other mena chance to close in and clean us up. Supposing we fooled him by takingoff his three men on the other line, one at a time?”

  “It’s an idea,” the young Lord replied. “Perhaps we’ll try it. Yes, Ithink we shall—when the time comes. And it will come, never fear!”

  “Alice must be lonesome with Cherry and the children gone,” Davesuggested to Brand that evening. “Let’s go over.”

  “I can’t tonight,” was Brand’s reply. “The Lark is giving me a lesson onhandling a Brownie. You can’t learn too much, you know, not in thisman’s war.”

  “Nor half enough,” Dave agreed.

  Mounting Brand’s bicycle, Dave rode over the pleasing country roads toRamsey Farm. Night was just falling. There was a glorious freshnessabout the night air. The war seemed far away. “As if it couldn’t touchany of us,” he thought. How wrong he could be at times.

  He found Alice doing the dinner dishes. Flash was curled up by the fire.Old Jock was at the stables. Dave grabbed a drying towel and helped withthe dishes. Then they sat by the cheerful fire. He spoke of his day’swork. “No luck,” he concluded. “Perhaps tomorrow. Brand and I aregetting better with our planes every day. We’ll be fighters yet.”

  Alice smiled.

  “Tonight _they_ seemed very far away,” she said, after a moment. Hervoice was low. “It’s the first time Cherry and I have been parted forlong.”

  He knew who she meant and was silent.

  From outside came the sound of a car. It stopped. There was a hand onthe latch. Mrs. Ramsey stepped into the room. A large, healthy,good-natured woman, on arriving it was her custom to shout a cheerygreeting. Tonight there was nothing of that.

  “You’re here, David?” she said as she took his hand. “I’m glad.” Shegave Dave her heavy coat, then took a place by the fire.

  “It’s a bit chilly outside tonight,” said Alice.

  “Quite.” Mrs. Ramsey’s voice seemed strange.

  “But still and peaceful,” Dave suggested. “As if there were no war.”

  After that for a full minute there was silence.

  When at last the mother spoke her voice was high-pitched and a littlestrained. “I don’t know how to say it,” she began. “I’m not good at suchthings. I’m always too blunt about my speech. ‘Out with it’, that’s beenmy motto.

  “You must know how I feel,” she went on after a pause, “So why all thebeating around the bush? A rather terrible thing has happened. The QueenBess has been attacked and sunk.”

  Dave started and stared, yet neither he nor Alice spoke a word.

  “It came to me by secret message,” Mrs. Ramsey went on. “The generalpublic doesn’t know about it yet.”

  “And did—did—” Alice’s words stuck in her throat.

  “We have only the most meager details,” the mother said. “It was a searaider that did it, not a submarine. The raider came in firing abroadside. Then it vanished into the night.

  “In twenty minutes the Queen Bess was gone, down b
y the bow. There was asea on. Some of the lifeboats were swamped. The children weremagnificent! Perfectly magnificent!” Mrs. Ramsey swallowed hard. “All ofthem sang ‘Roll out the Barrel’ through it all.”

  “Oh—o!” Alice breathed, then hid her face.

  “That’s all there is to tell.” Mrs. Ramsey rose. “I must get back. Ipractically ran away. There was a frightful raid last night. All ourwards are full. We—we’ll hope for the best.” She was gone.

  They sat there in silence by the fire for a long time, the boy and thegirl, in a troubled world.

  At last Dave rose to walk slowly back and forth across the well-wornfloor.

  It was Alice who at last spoke. “Dave. She is not gone. She’s out theresomewhere. You can’t kill such a spirit as Cherry’s. You just can’t.”

  “That’s right,” Dave agreed. “It can’t be done.” He meant just that.“Well,” he sighed, “I’ll be going back. Let me know about things. I—I’llbring Brand tomorrow night if we can make it.”

  “Dave, I’m sorry,” Alice said as she clasped his hand in farewell. Shewas thinking of him just then, he knew that. She was trying to tell himshe was sorry their happy evening together had been spoiled. How sort ofmagnificent she was! How marvelous these English girls!