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Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 13. A Bit Queer |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN. A BIT QUEER "Tell us all about it," said Bracy as he lay partially dressed outside his simple charpoy bed in the small room Doctor Morton had annexed for his officer patients. "All about what?" said Roberts, who had come in, according to his daily custom, to sit for a while and cheer up his suffering friend. "All about what? All about everything that has been going on--is going on." "And is going to go on!" said Roberts, laughing. "That's a large order, old chap." "You may laugh," said Bracy dolefully; "but you don't know what it is to be lying here staring at the sky." "And mountains." "Pah! Well, at the mountains too, day after day, in this wearisome way. I hear the bugle and the firing, and sometimes a shout or two, and then I lie wondering what everything means--whether we're driving them away or being beaten, and no one to tell me anything but that dreadful woman; for old Morton thinks of nothing but sword-cuts and bullet-wounds, and will only talk of one's temperature or one's tongue. I tell you it's maddening when one wants to be up and doing something." "Patience, patience, old man. You're getting better fast." "How do you know?" cried Bracy petulantly. "Morton ways so." "Morton's an old--old--old woman," cried Bracy angrily. "I'm sick of him. I'm sick of that other disagreeable woman. I'm sick of physic-- sick of everything." "Poor old chap!" said Roberts, laying his cool hand upon his friend's burning forehead. "Come, you'll feel better after that." "Don't--don't talk that way--and take away your hand. You make me feel as if I must hit you." "I wish you would, old man, if it would make you feel better." "Better! Pah! It's horrible. Morton only talks. Says I'm better when I'm worse." "Oh, come now, that won't do, you know. You are stronger." "Pah! How can I be stronger when I am as weak as a baby, unable to move hand or foot? There; I beg pardon for being so disagreeable." "Oh, nonsense! Who thinks you disagreeable?" "You do, Rob; only you're such a good old chap that you won't notice my sick man's whims." "Love 'em," said Roberts coolly. "More you go it the better I like it, because it's all a sign of the spirit in you kicking against your weakness. I know how you feel--want to come and have another go in at the Dwats?" "Yes," said Bracy in a sharp whisper through his closed teeth. "I do long to help give them an awful thrashing." "Of course you do, my boy; and you shall soon. Now, if, instead of kicking against hospital routine, you took to it in a mean, spiritless sort of way, and lay there waiting to be roused up to speak, I should feel uncomfortable about you, for I should know it was a bad sign.-- You'll be all right soon." Bracy was silent for a few minutes, and lay gazing wistfully through the window at the dazzling snow-peaks flashing miles away in the bright sunshine. Then he shook his head slowly from side to side. "It's of no use to be self-deceiving," he said at last. "I know as well as can be, Rob, what's wrong. I'm not going to die." "Die? Ha, ha! I should think not. Take more than a bullet-hole to kill you." Bracy smiled, and looked sadly in his friend's eyes. "It's precious hard, old fellow," he said; "for as I lie here I feel that I'm almost a boy still, and it comes so soon." "What comes so soon?" "My big trouble, old fellow. Morton won't say a word about it; but I know." "Come now; what do you know? You lie awake imagining all sorts of things." "But I don't imagine that. You can see it for yourself. I'm strong enough in mind, but the weakness of body is terrible." "Of course it is. You have had a hole right through you, made by a rough piece of iron fired from a gun; but it's healing up fast." "Yes," said Bracy, with a sigh, "the wound is healing up fast." "Then, what more do you want?" "My old manly strength," cried the sufferer with energy. "This horrible, helpless weakness!" "Dull! What an unreasonable patient you are!" cried Roberts. "How can you expect the strength to come till the wound is healed?" "I don't expect it," sighed the poor fellow. "Roberts, old man, it will never come back. My spine was injured by that bullet." "Yes; we know that." "And it has affected the nerves so that I am going to be helpless for the rest of my life--a poor invalid, whose fate is to be carried about or wheeled everywhere." "Don't believe it," said Roberts shortly. "Who told you that stuff?" "My own instinct. You know I cannot move hand or foot." "Not yet. Nature has bound you down so that your wound may not be disturbed till it is well." "There, don't talk about it," said Bracy quickly. "I want to know how things are going on. I don't hear half enough." "All right, old man," cried Roberts cheerfully. "You shall have it in brief. This is a hole--we're in a hole--the Dwats, bless 'em! are like the sand upon the seashore, and they come sliding into the hole. Then we shovel 'em out, and just like sand they come trickling down again upon us. Now it's down one of the gullies, now it's down another; and the more we kill the more seem to come on." "Yes--yes--yes," sighed Bracy; "just as it has been from the first. We ought to have reinforcements." "That's right, and I dare say some have been sent; but the tribes south and east have all risen, and are holding them in check, so we've got to do the work here ourselves." "How are the supplies?" "Tidy--tidy; and we keep on fretting a little game, only it's risky work; and I never feel as if I should get back again when I'm out shooting. Had some narrow escapes." "What about ammunition?" "That's all right. Enough for a couple of months yet, fire as hard as we like." "Why didn't Drummond come to see me yesterday? Ah, I know; he has been wounded." "Just scratched; that's all. I dare say he'll come in some time to-day." "Poor fellow! I am sorry." "He isn't--he's delighted. Goes about with his arm in a sling, showing it to everybody, and telling them about the fight he had with a big Dwat. Says he should have cut him down, only one of our lads was so precious handy with his bayonet and ran him through." "Ah!" cried Bracy, flushing slightly, as he mentally pictured the scene. "How bravely our lads do stand by their officers!" "They do. Good fellows; brave boys. I like the way, too, in which that chap Gedge waits on you." "Yes," said Bracy, with a sigh; "and the poor fellow is not fit to be about. Morton owned to it; but he will wait on me hand and foot, to that horrible woman's disgust." "What! Mrs Gee?" Bracy nodded. "Well, she is a disagreeable, tyrannical sort of female Jack-in-office; but she has her good points." "Yes; but they're such sharp points, and they prick dreadfully." "Ha, ha!" laughed Roberts. "A joke; and you say you're not getting better.--I say, what were we talking about? Oh, Gedge. I wish he wasn't such an awful East-end Cockney in his ways, for he's a splendid fellow inside. Times and times he has brightened the poor fellows up out yonder, singing and telling stories and playing some of his india-rubber games, bad as his own wounds are. I believe he'd pretend to laugh even if he were dying." "I can never be grateful enough to him," sighed Bracy. "Oh yes, you can. We must all petition for him to get his stripes as soon as we can, only it will make old Gee mad with jealousy." "Yes," said Bracy thoughtfully; and then: "How long have I been lying here?" "Three weeks, old man." "And you are no further with the Dwats?" "Not a bit. That thrashing we gave them together when you went down ought to have settled 'em and made 'em sue for peace; but they began sniping at us the very next day." "It seems to be their nature to be always fighting," sighed Bracy. "Yes. I don't believe they could live without it. They must fight something or somebody, and regularly enjoy a good skirmish." "You haven't said anything about Colonel Wrayford the last day or two." "No, poor fellow! he's in a very low state. Between ourselves, boy, we only came just, in time." "What, do you mean?" "To save Ghittah. Those fellows would have done their best; but they would have been overmatched, and without their Colonel they'd have given way at last, and the people at home would have been reading of a terrible reverse in the Dwat district. Massacre of the British force." "Not so bad as that surely." "I don't know. Poor Wrayford had worked till he was utterly exhausted, body and mind, and as soon as Graves began to relieve him of part of the strain it was just as if something snapped, and he curled up at once. Morton says it was all from overstrain after his wound, and that he'll want a twelvemonth at home to get back his strength." "I beg pardon, sir," said a hard, acid voice; "it is quite time Mr Bracy had his lunch." Roberts turned quickly upon the stern, frowning, youngish woman who had entered silently in a pair of home-made list slippers, and stood in the doorway gazing at him fixedly. "That's right, Mrs Gee," said Roberts; "bring it in, and feed him up well, for he wants it, poor fellow!" "Mr Bracy has everything, sir," said the woman coldly, "and given him to the minute when there's no one here." "Oh, I'm nobody," said Roberts good-humouredly. "No, sir." "Eh? Oh, all right; bring in his lunch.--Hang the woman! I didn't mean that," he said to himself. "No, sir; not while you are here," replied the woman in the most uncompromising way. "Mr Bracy can't lift his arms yet, and I have to give him his meals, and it troubles him for any one to see him fed." "Yes, yes, of course. I ought to have known, Mrs Gee. Where is the lunch?" "Being kept hot for him, sir." "Go and fetch it, then, and I'll be off the moment you come." Mrs Gee said nothing, but turned silently and disappeared, while Roberts rose and leaned over the bed. "The tyrant of the sickroom, old boy. Never mind; she's a capital nurse, and sympathetic under her hard shell. But I say, old fellow, can you imagine it to be possible that Gee fell in love with that female dragon?" "No," said Bracy, smiling. "It seems impossible. One can't understand these things. I don't mind her so much now, but I do wish she wouldn't be quite so hard on poor Gedge." "Poor lad; no. What's that, though?--the click of crockery. Only fancy the willow-pattern plate out here in the hills!" "Not so far out of place," said Bracy, smiling. "Chinese pattern, and we are very near to China." "Good-bye, old man," said Roberts hastily. "Here she comes. Never mind about shaking hands yet. Do it in a look. Good-bye. See you to-morrow--if I don't get knocked over first," he added to himself; and, bonding low, as there was a short, hard cough outside, evidently meant for a signal to him to depart, he laid one hand upon Bracy's shoulder, the other on his brow, and gave him a very brotherly look and smile. "You'll be all right soon, my helpless old cockalorum," he cried cheerily. "There, pitch into your corn well, and grow strong. Ta, ta!" He turned quickly to cross the room, and then made a bound a yard away in his astonishment, for he received a tremendous blow across the loins, which made him turn sharply to gaze in wonder at his helpless friend, who was looking at him wildly. "What the dickens did you do that for?" he asked. "I beg pardon, sir. I thought you said--" "Yes, yes, all right, Mrs Gee, I'm off," he cried; and he hurried away and out into the great court, where he passed one hand behind him to begin softly rubbing his spine. "Is the poor fellow off his head?" he muttered in his wonderment and confusion. "Helpless and weak? Why, it was enough to break a fellow's back. Has he got a club in the bed?" Roberts stopped short, as if about, to turn back. "Ought I to go and warn that woman of his antics? No; she could summon help directly, and--" "Morning, sir. Find Mr Bracy better, sir?" Roberts looked up sharply, to find Gedge, with his face looking very thin and more angular than ever, leaning as far as he could out of a narrow window. "Yes--no--well, getting on, Gedge." "Oh yus, sir; he's getting on. Pecks better now." "I'm glad of it. You're better too, my lad." "Me, sir. Oh, I'm getting a reg'lar impostor, sir. Ought to be back in the ranks, only I don't want to leave Mr Bracy, sir." "Certainly not. Keep with him, and do all you can." "Right, sir. Do a lot more if old Gee's wife wasn't there, sir." "Humph!" ejaculated Roberts, with his hand involuntarily busy rubbing his back. "By the way, Gedge, have you noticed anything particular about Mr Bracy when you've been with him?" "No, sir. Oh yus, sir; I know what you mean." "Ha!" cried Roberts. "You have noticed it?" "Oh yus. You mean those fits o' the blue dumps as he has." "Well--er--yes," said Roberts. "Yus, sir; he has them bad. Gets a sort o' idee in his head as he'll never be all right again." "Yes, yes; all weakness." "Jest what I telled him, sir. 'Look ye here, sir,' I says; 'see how you bled that day 'fore I could stop it. Yer can't expect to be strong as you was till you gets filled up again.'" "Of course not," assented Roberts. "That's it, sir. And I says to him, I says, 'Look at me, sir. Just afore I got my blue pill--leastwise it warn't a blue pill, but a bit o' iron--I was good for a five-and-twenty mile march on the level or a climb from eight hay-hem to eight pee-hem, while now four goes up and down the orspital ward and I'm used up.' He's getting on though, sir. You can see it when you cheers him up." "Yes; I noticed that," said Roberts. "Specially if you talks about paying them roughs out for shooting at us that day as they did." "Ha! cowardly in the extreme." "Warn't it, sir? When we're up and at it, we lads, we're not very nice; but fire at a poor beggar carrying his wounded orficer--why, I wouldn't think one of ours 'd do such a thing--let alone believe it." "Of course they would not, my lad," said Roberts. "There, I'm glad to hear about how well you attend to Mr Bracy." He nodded, and went on to his quarters, wondering to himself over what had taken place at Bracy's bedside. "It was very queer," he thought; "but it shows one thing--the poor fellow's a good deal off his head at times, or he wouldn't have hit out at me like that; and it shows, too, that all his ideas about being so weak are fancy. That crack on the back didn't come from a weak arm. But it's all due to the wound, and it would be better not to say anything to him about it." _ |
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