Fighting with French: A Tale of the New Army, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE

  Kenneth on his way home looked in at the doctor's. An attack ofinfluenza after his return from Belgium had pulled him down, and he hadput off joining the army until assured of his complete recovery. As heput it to the doctor: "A crock would be no use to K. of K."

  "You'll do," said the doctor after thoroughly overhauling him. "All youwant is a little hardening up. I'll give you a prescription. Theopen-air life of the army will do you good. And I wish you luck."

  Thus fortified, as soon as he got home he posted an application for acommission in the Flying Corps.

  Next day, soon after lunch, he received a telegram from Randall.

  "No go. Slackers. Mules. Governor mad. Come and lend a hand."

  He handed the telegram to his mother.

  "What does it mean?" she asked. "Your friend must be rather a curiousperson."

  "Oh, it's just Randy," said Kenneth, who had told his mother of hismeeting with Randall on the previous day. "At school he always wantedto lug everybody with him. I don't see what I can do. I'll wire him."

  He wrote on the reply-paid form:

  "Sorry. Not my line."

  Within a couple of hours came a second telegram.

  "Rotter. Writing."

  Next morning's post brought the letter.

  "You simply must come. What do you mean, not your line? How do youknow till you try? Here I've come 6000 miles--but I told you thatbefore. This is the situation. The governor is raving: never saw himso biffy. He got a spouter down from London, who lectured the men inthe dinner-hour, waved a flag and all that. The men only jeered.Governor says I'll only make them worse if I try; calls me ascatter-brain; I assure you he's in a deuce of a wax. Used to be asmeek as Moses; wouldn't hear of compulsion; he's turned completely over,talks of sacking the men, closing the works, conscription, and so on andso forth. Something must be done. You were always a cool hand; come andlet's talk things over, at any rate: smooth the governor down; he won'tlisten to a word from me, and in my opinion goes the wrong way to work.I told him I was inviting you; best pal at school, cock of the House,going to join with me: so on and so forth. He'll be glad to see you."

  "A very strange person," remarked Mrs. Amory when she had read theletter.

  "Perhaps I had better go," said Kenneth. "Of course I can't do any goodwith the men, but it will please Randy, and my being on the spot mayprevent him and his father from coming to loggerheads. They're bothpeppery, evidently."

  Accordingly, Kenneth travelled by the 10.30 from St. Pancras, andreached the small midland town in time for lunch. He saw at once thatMr. Randall himself was at any rate partly responsible for this trouble.A prosperous manufacturer, he was inclined to be dictatorial and wascertainly no diplomatist. Full of patriotic zeal himself, deploring thefact that he was too old for active service, a special constable, anenergetic member of the local home defence corps, he had expected allhis able-bodied men to rush to the colours, promised to keep theirplaces for them, and to make up their pay for the sake of theirdependents. The paltry response filled him with fury. Without takingthe trouble to discover the cause of the general reluctance he pouredscorn upon the skulkers, talked of the white feather, tried to dragoonthem into volunteering, threatened to sack them or close the works, withthe result that the men stiffened their backs and defied him. Clearlyhe did not know how to handle men in an emergency like the present.

  At lunch Kenneth tactfully listened to his host's outpourings, withoutoffering any criticism or suggestion.

  "Good man!" said Randall, when he and Kenneth were alone. "Let him blowoff! That's the way."

  "What have you done?" asked Kenneth.

  "Not much. I wanted to make a speech to the men, but the governorwouldn't let me. Now, am I a scatter-brain? D'you think that's fair?Anyway, I'm his son! But I spoke to old Griggs, our foreman; asked himwhy the men won't enlist. ''Cos they're Englishmen,' says he. 'What'sthe meaning of that?' says I. 'Won't be druv,' says he. 'Rather be ledby the nose,' says he."

  "What did he mean?"

  "Well, it appears that the fellows take their cue from two ringleaders.One of them's a man named Stoneway, only been here about six months: Idon't know him. But I know the other chap--a carrot-headed fellow namedMurgatroyd; Yorkshire, I suppose: the men call him Ginger. He's beenwith us years: came as a boy. A rough customer, I can tell you: a jollygood workman, but a regular demon for mischief. All the same, you can'thelp liking him. He's a sportsman, too: good at boxing, a first-classforward, just the fellow you'd expect to be the first to go. Griggstold me he didn't expect to see him back after his week's holiday inAugust: but he turned up a day or two late, and backed up Stonewayagainst the governor. He'll be sacked at the end of the week, sure as agun."

  "Those two are the men you must tackle, then," said Kenneth. "Bringthem round, and the rest will follow like sheep--or donkeys, 'led by thenose,' as your Griggs says."

  "By the way, he told me the men are having a meeting in the yard attea-time to discuss the governor's threats. Shall we slip down and hearwhat they have to say?"

  "Our appearance might shut them up."

  "Not if I know our men--free and independent, don't care a rap foranyone: you know the sort. They'd take a huge delight in letting ushear a few things about ourselves--idle rich, bloated capitalists and soon: which reminds me that I've got about twopence halfpenny. We'll hearthem spout, and tackle Stoneway and Ginger quietly afterwards."

  Shortly after four o'clock the two friends strolled into the works yard.Several hundreds of hands were there assembled, from engine boys andapprentices to grey seasoned veterans. The most of them had tea cans,some were smoking. At one end of the yard, standing on a tub, a stoutlybuilt man of about thirty, with close cropped hair and thick brown beardand moustache, was haranguing the mob.

  Randall was recognised by some of the men, whose grins of greeting heacknowledged with nods. A whisper ran round: "The young governor!" Itcaught the ears of the man on the tub, who broke off his speech for amoment and glanced sharply at the two tall figures on the outskirts ofthe crowd. Then he resumed what was evidently a studied peroration.

  "Is this a free country, or is it not, mates?" he cried, with a sweepingarm. "If a man wants to fight, let him; I won't say a word against it.But when it comes to forcing him, then I say he's a slave, and all thetalk about Britons never will be slaves is blankety rot, and I say thatwhen an employer threatens to sack us or close the works because wedon't feel called on to turn ourselves into gun-fodder, I say he's anigger-driver and a tyrant. And what's it for? Are we invaded? I'ddefend my own home with any man. But what do we pay the navy for?That's their job. What I say is, let the French and the Russians dotheir own fighting. It's no business of ours."

  "What about Belgium?" cried one of the boys.

  "'What about Belgium?' says the nipper. What has Belgium done for us?Perhaps the nipper will tell us. Speak up.... Not a word, and why?Because Belgium has done nothing for us. Then I ask you in the name ofcommon sense why on earth we should do anything for Belgium? Belgiumhas only herself to thank. The Germans have promised to leave Belgiumas soon as they have settled with the French, and even if theydon't----"

  "Way there!" shouted Randall, elbowing his way through the crowd. Criesof "Way for the young governor!" drowned the speaker's voice. "Time'sup, Stoneway!" sang out the boy who had questioned him. Kenneth followedhis friend, hoping that he would be discreet.

  Stoneway descended from the tub, Randall mounted in his place.

  "Look here, men," he cried, "I came to listen, to get at your ideas, notto speak, but I can't keep quiet when I hear such stuff. We're free men:that's all right; but we're men of our word. An Englishman's word: youknow what people say about that. We've given our word to Belgium: if webreak it we're mean skunks, we're disgraced for ever. Besides, everydecent chap loathes a bully, and Germany's just a
great hulking bully.If you see a big chap hurting a little 'un, you want to knock him down.My father tells me that only about a dozen of you have enlisted. What'sthe reason of it? You'd feel jolly well insulted if I called youcowards. Are all you hundreds going to skulk at home while your matesdo the fighting for you? What'll you feel like in ten years' time? Youwon't be able to look 'em in the face. Here I've come 6000 miles to domy bit; buck up and show what you're made of."

  Randall's words tumbled out in a boiling flood. There was somecheering, mingled with cries of "Ginger!" which grew in volume until thedin was deafening. Presently there edged his way through the crowd athin lank fellow with lean clean-shaven cheeks, deeply furrowed, and atouzled mop of reddish hair. A red scarf was knotted about his neck.He slouched forward, hands in pockets, murmured "Afternoon, Mr. Harry,"as he passed Randall, mounted the tub, hitched up his breeches, drew theback of his hand across his mouth, and looked round, with a grin, uponhis shouting fellow-workmen. The noise subsided, and the crowd gazedexpectantly up into their favourite's face.

  "We're all glad to see the young governor, mates," he said, in the broadaccents of a north-countryman. There was a volley of cheers. "But wedon't hold with him--and no offence. I hold with Stoneway--every wordof it." He thumped the air. "Who made this war? Not us: we wasn'tconsulted. No: it was the nobs done it. Are we going to let 'em forceus into it?" (Shouts of "No!") "We won't be druv. It's all very wellfor the officers: they get a comfortable billet and good pay. Tommygets the kicks and Percy gets the ha'pence." ("Go it, Ginger!") "Now,Mr. Harry, you've come 6000 miles--what for, sir? an officer's job, Itake my oath."

  "That's true," said Randall. "I've applied. But----"

  "Hold on, sir. There you are! Just what I thought. Well, I ain't gotno personal objection to having a smack at the Germans; never seen aGerman yet but what I'd give him one on the boko, and if LordKitchener'd make me a lootenant or a capting in the Coldstream Guards,with a sword and eppylets and ten bob a day--well, I don't say Iwouldn't consider it." ("Bravo, Ginger!") "But as it is, to be aprivate on one bob a day, and dock threepence or more, they tell me, forthe missus and kids--I'm not having any."

  When the cheers that hailed his assertion had fallen away, Kenneth saidquietly:

  "You forget that thousands of men have thrown up good jobs andsacrificed big incomes to join the ranks."

  "Not in these parts, governor. Down here they give their subscriptionsto this, that, and the other, and reduce their men's wages, if theydon't sack 'em. And if it comes to that, what have _you_ done?"

  A breathless silence settled upon the crowd. All eyes were fixed on theyoung governor's friend, awaiting his reply to this poser. Kenneth hadan inspiration.

  "It doesn't matter what I've done," he said, quietly, but in a tone thatcarried his words to the corners of the yard. "But I'll tell you whatI'll do, and if I know my friend Mr. Randall, he'll do the same. If youmen will enlist, we'll enlist with you, and share and share alike."

  The man was taken aback. He looked from Kenneth to Randall: his mateswatched him curiously. "One for you, Ginger!" cried the irrepressibleboy.

  "D'you mean that, sir?" asked the man.

  "Certainly," said Kenneth.

  "It's a firm offer, Ginger," added Randall.

  "Privates--no kid?"

  "A bob a day," said Kenneth.

  For a half-minute or so Ginger had the air of one who is caught out. Helooked round among his mates, grinning awkwardly, avoiding their eyes.They were silent, watching him. All at once he burst into a guffaw,wiped his mouth, and with frank good-humour cried:

  "Well, hanged if you ain't good sports. Come on, mates. Who's forKitchener's army and a smack at the Germans? I'm number one."

  The crowd was captured by the sporting spirit. Striking while the ironwas hot, Randall and Kenneth headed a procession to the recruitingoffice. Mr. Randall, called to his window by the tramp of many feet andthe strains of "It's a long long way to Tipperary," was amazed to seehundreds of his young workmen marching with linked arms behind the twoyoung fellows. He rang for Griggs.

  "What does this mean, Griggs?" he asked.

  "Gone to enlist, sir. We shall be very short-handed."