CHAPTER X

Consisting of 1000 Fully-Paid Preference and 1000 Ordinary
Shares.

TERMS, Preference Fully Paid, Ordinary Five per cent, on
allotment.

Balance after the War.

Had I the wings of a dove, far, far would I fly—away from this dove-cot—from the Mekhteb and memories of Huznu—from the Turkish bath fond joy of earlier days, away from the chapel that has so often seen me, but now to see me no more, from the bazaar where in days of yore I visited Ekki Bachouk's, from the postas and Turkish female delights untasted—from the band—ah, band of memories—most of all from the Oblong Table—in short, from the Flesh and the Devil far, far would I fly.

Ah, those wings. I feel them already upon me. Like a bird I feel also my capacity for flight. Wings that lie closely to my shoulders, white pinions the outer ribs in stiff strong rows, beside them smaller ones lighter than air, stronger than steel, folding like a fan, opening like an umbrella, locked and fast. Wings flinging arced shadows, wings with which to issue some early morn from my window, to cleave the air, to mount up, up, up above these mosques, the river, the town, until Kastamuni shall appear a wee pattern of dusky patchwork crossed by a silver thread and dotted with woolly smoke. Wings to lift me so high that even that shall disappear—and beyond the ranges will gleam the sea. Ah, the sea. How I long for thee also. Since when have I walked within range of thy tossing spray, thou sea skirting the crimson battlefields of Europe. Thee would I follow until in the last light of even I beheld once more "that isle set in a silver sea——"

Oh, for the wings of a dove. Far, far would I fly. Oh, to be a dove. I, too, would stop to pluck an olive leaf, and on it would scratch with my beak, Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin, and then having reached Potsdam, would I drop it at the Kaiser's feet as he strolls about the palace grounds of Sans-souci. Sans-souci, forsooth!

Then would he not conquer the world any more, but wring the necks of all his eagles.

And then on to other isles and scenes, whence the voices are calling——

Oh, for the wings, those free white wings of a dove.

"Who killed Cock Turkey?"
"I," said Bull Jack,
"With my usual knack—
I killed Cock Turkey."

"Who helped to do it?"
"I," said old Bruno,
"With my little U know—
I helped to do it."

"Who saw him die?"
"I," said her ally,
With perfectly dry eye—
"I saw him die."

"Who'll have his feathers?"
"I," said the Lion,
"With my usual try-on,
I'll have his feathers."

"Who'll dig his grave?"
"I," said the vulture,
An eagle plus culture—
"I'll dig his grave."

"Who'll grow on his grave?"
"I," said the Lily,
She spoke quite shrilly—
"I'll grow on his grave."

"Who'll write his epitaph?"
"I," said the Armenian,
With the help of the Athenian—
"I'll write his epitaph."

"Who's heir-apparent?"
"I," said Uncle Sam,
"I guess that I am
The heir-apparent."

"Who'll toll the knell?"
"I," said the Kangaroo,
"With the help of the Emu,
I'll toll the knell."

And the Things of the Earth danced in ecstasy—
When they heard of the death of the Cock Turkey—
When they heard of the death of the Cock Turkey.

Pacific Billow.
April, 1917.

Counsel for plaintiff, Mr. Wm. Sykes, K.C., of Dukes. The defendant defended himself, and was assisted, where necessary, by the learned judge.

Mr. Sykes, on traversing the Statement of Claim, alleged that the plaintiff had been wrongfully deceived by certain overtures and advances on the part of the defendant in that he had, on many occasions, smiled at her, gesticulated towards her, called her "choke guzelle," winked, and even kissed his fingers at her when the postas were not looking. Moreover, written evidence of a formal declaration of affection and willingness to marry was in possession of the plaintiff. For these reasons, submitted Mr. Sykes, an offer of the contract of matrimony had been made by the defendant and accepted by the plaintiff. The defendant was unwilling to fulfil—or at least hung fire—plaintiff estimated her damages at piastres 500.

Mr. Sykes then called his chief witness, the plaintiff, the Fair Girl herself. Her appearance caused a great sensation in the court. There came a dream in daisy-patterned chintz, the pattering of small red-stockinged feet, and a dainty whiff of garlic streamed over the court as the fragile and closely-hooded damsel clambered into the witness-box. Then, and not till then, she threw back her veil, and the whole court beheld, or rather heard, a tone poem of superlative beauty—a song without words. Her striking looks affected the public queerly, who fell to digging one another in the ribs, and the learned judge had twice to threaten to clear the court.

She answered her counsel's questions firmly and sweetly. The defendant then put her through the following cross-examination, by the help of an interpreter.

"How could I marry you when I am already married?" The learned judge here intervened to the effect that in Turkey a man might have several wives.

A question was now put by defendant to the witness with reference to other affections, but was disallowed. Plaintiff was now required to produce the written evidence, but counsel for plaintiff, springing to his feet, opposed this proceeding as violating the religious law of the plaintiff's sect. He was overruled by the learned judge, and the witness produced from her stocking a piece of crumpled paper. All eyes were turned on the defendant, and it seemed now improbable that he could win his case. However, after some delay, and much to the embarrassment of plaintiff's counsel, and to the amusement of the rest of the court, the paper was found to be an old laundry list of the defendant, which he may or may not have dropped accidentally.

At this point a startling revelation was made in Mr. Sykes' re-examination of plaintiff to the effect that witness had been twice actually kissed by the defendant, and a collar stud of his, retained in plaintiff's possession, was produced in court. The defendant, who had hitherto conducted an able defence, was considerably put out by the last fact, and applied to the learned judge for special permission further to question the plaintiff. This being given, the Bimbashi severely taxed the witness as to her means of support, and several times the learned judge had to intervene on plaintiff's behalf. The questions were satisfactorily answered, and the witness left the box.

Mr. Sykes summed up in a manner so scathing that the Bimbashi was heard to interrupt the court by saying that he wished both Mr. Sykes and he himself had never been born. Counsel was well into his final peroration, when he chanced to refer to the plaintiff's "rosy innocence," which, on being interpreted to the Fair Girl, caused her to burst out laughing. On being admonished by the learned judge, she inquired of Mr. Justice Owes-Leigh whether the picture of her counsel, Mr. Sykes, talking of innocence, was not too funny even for a Turk. This caused a counter-sentiment in favour of the Bimbashi, and closed the case for the plaintiff.

The defendant, a man of mischievous disposition, and inclined to be humorous, opened his defence by reciting Wordsworth's "We are Seven," and had got well into Mrs. Hemans' "The Graves of a Household," when the learned judge asked what this had to do with the case.

"Nothing, my lord. I am merely making an impression." Upon which the learned judge dropped on him like a chimney, and Mr. Sykes suggested the defendant had tried to make an impression on the Fair Girl.

"You are wasting the time of this court," thundered the learned judge, and demanded the line of defence.

The elucidation of these conditions necessitated the clearance of the court, and for some time the case was heard in camera. However, it is generally known that the learned judge himself re-examined both parties, as a result of which the Fair Girl admitted to being secretly in love with a gendarme, and flatly declined to marry the defendant. The case was dismissed without costs on either side. Counsel for plaintiff explained that the officers of Kastamuni had subscribed the amount of plaintiff's court costs. A question by the Bimbashi as to whether plaintiff's counsel had received his professional costs from the Fair Girl was disallowed by the learned judge. Counsel for plaintiff, who became greatly heated, was distinctly heard by some to say something about "a jealous counsel," but the remark evidently did not reach the ears of Mr. Justice Owes-Leigh.

The court rose, and the Fair Girl, whose nerve possibly failed at the last moment, went out on her counsel's arm.

King Arthur (a three-parcel wallah with designs on Sir Saundontius the Good, a fourteen-parcel wallah): Gentlemen, I propose that in future all parcels are pooled in the mess. (Loud protests and uproar.)

Sir Samuel Longbow: No, I'm against that. Fancy dividing two tins of sardines amongst fourteen.

Sir Cliftus Smallkake: Well, I'll tell you this much, I shan't give mine up. One cake wouldn't feed two knights.

Sir Sulphurous Blears: Blank your blankety blank. I'm for pooling the blankety blanks, blank it.

Sir Leslie Bec de Canard: Very good idea. I've got flea powders and thirst quenchers. Pool 'em, with pleasure.

Sir Rufus Appletree: I've had no parcels. Even if I had I would have pooled them. (Laughter and exclamations.)

Sir Shinytop Stewartus (who sits next to King A. and knows that in any case Royalty appropriates): Hear, hear, let's pool them.

Sir Carol Cœur de Lion: I'm not afraid of speaking my mind. I'm against it, as I don't approve of socialism or cheap parcels.

Sir Saundontius the Good (fourteen-parcel wallah, and feeling under the circumstances that he had better go no further than timidly venturing to agree with the last speaker): I hardly think so, Sir King, Old Thing. One tin of jam would last me for a week, but the mess scarcely one minute. (Storm grows wilder, the only voices for the affirmative being those who up to date have received no parcels.)

King Arthur (much annoyed, and seeing a way of retreat, in a whisper to Sir Shinytop): Pass the word it's only a ramp against Saundontius. (The murmur grows to one of general accord and cry of "Pool 'em.")

Sir Saundontius (an excellent thought-reader, aside to Sir Sulph. Blears): Pass the word the ramp is only an excuse of King A. to get his point. Ramp or no ramp, the vote will count.

King Arthur (not a good thought-reader, and believing all well): Gentlemen, the vote! Who's for pooling them? (Votes for, six, including Sir Saundontius (who has counted); votes against, eight.)

There's a murmur in the air—in the air—
There are ninety parcels there
Full of jams, anchovies rare
For the prisoners de guerre—
Bless their souls.

Hark! I hear him read the list—read the list—
Six for you—I do insist—
One for me is rather triste—
Though size counts too I wist—
Bless our souls.

At the room we breathless wait—breathless wait—
You must not risk being late,
It might change your parcel's fate,
So on our boldness do not prate.
Bless our souls.

All is o'er, they have them fast—have them fast—
There's some jam that will not last,
Some tongue for a repast—
Quenchers, shirts, and tea! avast!
Bless their souls.

Letters come. Letters go.
Winter's gone. Gone the snow.
Gone the footer and toboggan,
Gone our erstwhile trick of hoggin,
And the price prevents our groggin,
Life is so.

Rumours come. Rumours go.
What's the truth?—we don't know.
In Kastamuni our hearts are breaking
And we fear the rude awaking
When from her tracks we'll be making,
Love is so.

Kaiser (motioning Z. to be seated): Before Talaat arrives let me know briefly how the matter stands.

Zim.: Turkey desires peace at once, but gives the last possible date as three months. An immediate loan of 10,000,000 liras on mutual security is demanded.

Z.: I assure your Majesty, it requires urgent attention. The whole of Turkey is behind it, led by the few vested and private interests that remain. You remember my saying that as soon as the private interests are hit the Turks will murmur.

Z.: According to Talaat, and privately confirmed, the wealthy classes are heading the general dissatisfaction at the famine prices and daily loss of territory. It is an ultimatum.

Kaiser (ringing, Hindenburg appears): The day, my general, is nearer than we thought. Turkey pulls out in three months. How will the map lie then?

H.: With Russia merely held, or, if necessary, by retiring to our system of railways and carrying on with smaller forces on our Eastern Front, we can intensify our shortened line in the West and hold it against all odds until the autumn. This is providing Holland remains neutral and the Turkish campaign is pushed.

H.: Palestine and Syria will go during the summer. Possibly Russia will get astride the Baghdad Railway from their Eastern push.

H.: We can keep open for three or four months, when the Western wastage will necessitate withdrawal of Mackensen's forces and further concentration. Say four months, providing Turkish wastages are replaced and she remains firm.

Z.: If the line is not cut she can be kept in by our military dispositions, so my reports say. The Turkish forces are kept in the out-field and German troops are fought nearer to the Capital. Their staff is still wholly German, and reports give no ground for uneasiness, except, of course, non-military riots. In which case comes in our "Remedy" among the Ultimate Provisions drawn up by your Majesty. We can seize and garrison Stamboul within twenty-four hours.

Kaiser (turning over papers): Hindenburg, is your opinion still unaltered about our last stand there? Remember, it is of the greatest consequence to the whole issue. For how long can we hold Stamboul?

H. (drawing himself up proudly): Your Majesty, our plans are perfect. On the dispositions made I will undertake to hold Constantinople behind the Tchataldja lines and a south trench for three years against the world.

H.: Nothing. With our shore batteries we could outrange any gun ashore or afloat, and as a submarine base it would be excellent. Ammunition and food would last that time.

B.-H.: If the rest of the war-map could remain as it is, it wouldn't be worth her while to insist on unconditional terms. But gallery play in Stamboul is useless once our line gives in the West.

Kaiser (to Hindenburg): If we sacrifice the Roumanian line and hold one across Austria instead, make a stand in Constantinople, and concentrate all our forces on the Western Front, how long can we go on for?

Kaiser (to B.-H.): The siege of Constantinople then would not be mere gallery play, Herr Chancellor?

B.-H.: There is yet a more serious factor. We can crush or sacrifice Turkey in revolution, but before a revolution in Germany your Majesty's guns will melt like butter in the sun.

Kaiser: Have you not quietened the National Liberals by nominally conceding the constitutional point of veto, and in assembling and proroguing the Reichstag?

B.-H.: It's not that. Neither is it the Socialists or the Left Centre. It's the agrarian classes of the Out Provinces. They already imagine that disaster has overtaken their absorption by Prussia, and thought towards decentralization must not be trusted too far. As they had least to win so they have most to lose in a war of taxation and attrition. Moreover, they fear the aftermath of fearful reprisals if the enemy carries war into Germany.

B.-H.: We cannot spare troops to garrison railways, and once the seed is sown lines will be cut, communications interrupted, and the army—excepting the Prussians—which is sick of fighting, will dissolve. I speak, your Majesty, from a near view of facts. Three months may be short, but when Turkey goes the terms will be harder.

B.-H.: The time to negotiate is now. We shall not succeed in sickening England out, and if we wait until we are right back before we ask peace, our enemies will push. (Enter Von Kapellar.)

Kaiser: Von Kapellar, First Sailor of the World, you are our present hope. You have three months within which to paralyse British shipping completely—there must not remain one ship afloat. Everything comes back to this.

Von K.: My Emperor, in that time I can dismember, but I cannot annihilate. Every submarine must consult opportunity. Their chief boats are convoyed. If necessary, the American and Japanese destroyer flotillas will be used against us. It would take a year before we got at her throat. Besides, she is building.

Kaiser: It must be done. It shall be. We are working against a time-table. With England cut off, and Turkey remaining in, Germany is consolidated. Von Tirpitz was right, after all. It is our chief weapon of parley. You must smash every ship and redouble our submarine tactics ten times from to-night—from this minute. I see it all plainly and all will be well.

B.-H.: I present to your Majesty our friend and Embassy from Turkey—Talaat Pasha.

Kaiser: Welcome, faithful friend of the Fatherland in peace and war, and soon in victory. You see, I have just been reviewing my sinews of war. A magnificent piece of news has just arrived. We have smashed the Mistress of the Seas. It but remains to sweep away the fragments. (Enter Von Kapellar.) I will introduce to you Baron Von Kapellar, the hero of the hour.

Kaiser: Your arrival, my friend Talaat, has been the precursor of most wonderful news. I am happy to be able to tell the distinguished leader of our brave and faithful ally that the end of the war is a matter of a few weeks only. In four days we have sunk seventy-two large boats. There is a panic in England, and we have been touched about terms of peace.

Talaat: Oh, that is good. My mission was for ten millions now, and to say we can't stand the strain for more than three months.

Kaiser: The strain? My generals will see to that. We are at England's throat. You must press every ounce—her terms depend on these blows. We could have peace to-night, but the peace we want requires manœuvring for. You remain firm, do you not? (Talaat nods meekly.) Our submarines are supreme, and every day the position improves.

Kaiser: I will arrange for sufficient policing of the place. Now do not misunderstand me. The case for Turkey is everything or nothing, and without Germany it will be nothing. You are to dine with the Chancellor and me to-night. Is there any question you would like to ask?

Kaiser: To fall back to a line we can hold for years—to prove to our enemies that at the rate of their advance it will take them two years to get into Germany, which extra effort will not mean so much gain to them more than they have at present—but the expenditure of millions of lives and double their war debt. That being so, we win. And now (rising) it is my royal wish to distinguish this occasion by conferring on you a Grand Duchy of the Fatherland. I have one vacant. The revenues have accumulated since the war. We will speak further of this at dinner.

L.: There has been much public comment on the fact that the Reichstag has even made it possible to demand changes in the Constitution so openly. This has been dealt with. There is also a growing tendency towards isolation. Men sit in cafés and talk. The world is against us, and even the entrance of Hayti has a bad moral effect. They hear the hordes already thundering at our gates for vengeance. This also has been dealt with and articles prescribed for it.

The Shade: It is true, Wilhelm. You have need for the pilot, nicht wahr? The glorious empire I gave is on the brink of an abyss. Colonies, commerce, shipping, armies, friends—all are gone. The isolation of England has ended in the isolation of Germany. The very cement with which I bound State by State to Prussia is crumbling to dust. Germany is sliding—soon she will be an avalanche charging to her doom. Even now there is barely time to avert the catastrophe. You dropped me. This is my revenge.

Kaiser (awakes with a start, and the Shade flees): What a fearful dream (quotes)—

"There is a tide in the affair of Nations,
Which, taken at the flood, leads God knows where."

On such a full sea are we now afloat, and we must take the current when it serves or, like our submarines, go to the bottom. I'll ring for wine....

Crack me the last bottle of date-juice
And hand me some leaves of the lime—
For to-day falls Kut-el-Amarah,
And for us, God knows, it's time.

We're only a siege-battered army,
And most of us bones and skin;
And we thought that our troubles were over;
But we find they only begin.

For five months the might of the Turk
Tried to take this tiny Kut.
Now he says that we are devils—
And we know that he can loot.

We thrashed him at Shaiba and Kurna,
At Amarah we bluffed him to flight,
At Essin we grappled and threw him—
How we swore when he left in the night!

That gave us Kut-el-Amarah
Where runs in the Shat-el-Hai.
'Tis the key to Mesopotamia,
And surrounded by Arab canaille.

We were now a conquering army,
And we fought well and ate well and drank;
And though he'd retreated to Baghdad,
We followed for military swank.

The march was a long one and thirsty,
Still we thought of the Baghdad goal—
Till the Turk barred our way at Ctesiphon,
Thrice our force and entrenched like a mole.

But Townshend saw it all swiftly—
To him were all our wins due.
"I'll not fight without reinforcements—
There's my communications, too."

Now, it's a trick they have in the Army,
To ask you "What's absurd?"
So unsupported, Charlie T.
He took them—at their word.

"It's a risk, and I'm not for it;
But if fight it's got to be,
We'll fight like the Sixth Division,"
Quoth our General, Charlie T.

We found his flank and joined battle,
And held with a frontal attack.
Stormed his first line—he vacated his second,
Was reinforced, and we had to fall back.

A third of our force on the field;
But the Turk had suffered much more.
We knew that the game was up,
So retired with the honours of war.

Then came the wild hordes of Islam,
Hot-footed upon our track.
They caught us at Um-al-Tabul,
But in the open we flung them back.

Mars surely was in his chariot,
And smiled at Townshend then;
And Charles made good to the God of War,
And snatched from the grave dead men.

We hurled him back and held him,
And got our transport through—
It was a glorious gunner's show—
But that's 'twixt me and you.

For forty hours we marched on,
The nights were fearfully cold.
Men hungered and fainting, and men
That slept as they walked, I'm told.

But Townshend got us to Kut,
And the remnants stumbled in.
And Hunger and Death stared from our eyes,
But we counted it all a win.

We dug down deep and quickly—
Next day they were all around,
And our planes flew away to the southward.
We were alone and battle bound.

We fought them from the trenches—
We came to blows in the Fort.
We fought them and we fought the floods—
And then the food ran short.

Relief had been expected
In two weeks, or four, at the most.
So we starved, or we died by the hundred;
But we stuck each man to his post.

All this time the enemy, vengeful,
That ringed us tightly round,
Swept us with shell and rifle fire
That followed us underground.

Our front line gazed into the blue,
Where Formless Things rode by,
And followed the wake of sound and heard
Them burst in the old Serai.

Or sometimes it was the Hospital,
And sometimes anywhere,
And later came planes that bombed us—
'Twas only luck served you there.

So the months went by, and we ate husks,
Chupatties, and mule, and weeds.
We'd Divisional Orders for breakfast,
And ribs of the silent steeds.

And still the Relief kept coming—
The Staff nominated the day.
Twenty times they fixed it for certain,
And each time explained the delay.

So we swallowed disappointments,
Tommy only groused his share;
But one sad day the floods came,
And Destiny seemed unfair.

The trenches filled with water,
And the plain showed scarce a sod,
And we slithered and waded, or murmured—
"On top, for the love of God!"

And many's the unfortunate devil
Fell to the sniper's shot
Through "chancing his arm" in the open;
But the others heeded it not.

Once again, on that waste of waters,
I gaze from the gun-pit floor,
Where Tanks and I kept vigil
Through each hour of the twenty-four.

I see the maidan silvered
With waters in the dawn—
Dark lines of distant parapets.
Fresh earth against the morn,

With files of khaki turbans
Moving forward to relief—
I see the busy shovel,
Hear the cursings underneath.

Farther still, beyond the sand-hills,
The trenches of our foe,
Seeming silent and deserted—
But I know that they're below

In lines on lines encircling
Us, north, south, east, and west—
And if my glasses tell me true,
They're reinforcing for the test.

'Tis moonlight, and they're sleeping,
The detachments of my guns—
Here, just behind the limber,
These best of England's sons.

For the dug-outs are now flooded,
Washed by this muddy sea—
The gun-wheels half in water,
The breech-blocks scarcely free.

And parapets and sandbags,
Our trenches fallen, too—
There's room for ammunition,
But not for me or you.

Once more, from the mouth of my dug-out,
I smoke the leaves of the lime—
Sort the destinies of my shells,
"Percussion" and also "time."

There's a light in the telephone dug-out—
I think I'll have a peep,
For I'm half expecting a message—
Maybe the Bombardier's asleep.

Asleep! in the arms of Hunger;
But I'll report him not,
Though I "rounded" him well for his slackness,
And returned to my watery lot.

Past sheets of wintry moonlight
I see the drooping palm,
And the ribboned edge of the Tigris,
Dreaming of Eden's calm.

Hard by, in ghastly stillness,
His four feet toward the moon,
I see the corpse of a stricken horse,
Death-knelled by the shrapnel-tune.

A broken wagon there yonder—
A topee adrift in the flood—
Its owner was strafed in the trenches,
There's the case of the shell in the mud.

I hear the belated mule-carts
A-rumbling on to the Fort
Under the cover of night—
For so their provisions were brought.

I hear the jackals' chorus,
Athirst for expected prey,
Where the Arab tribes lie sleeping,
Patiently awaiting "the day."

Enough! these things are over,
The moon is on the wane,
And the palm-fronds' festooned shadows
I ne'er shall see again.

For Kut at last is fallen,
And more men have to die—
Our flag is down, and the Crescent
Waves o'er the old Serai.

God grant to us, now captives—
Who at Death's gate boldly dare
Boast we haven't succumbed to battle—
Grant us this fervent prayer—

That in our future cheerless,
We yet shall know o'er Kut
Our avengers see the Union Jack—
Tramp the Crescent underfoot.

To that, then, drink from this date-juice,
And fill up your pipe with the lime.
We have fought till the Great Gong sounded—
Till the Referee called out—"Time!"