All in It : K(1) Carries On Part 18

"There ought not to be, of course. But you know what the Heavy Gunners and the A.S.C. are! If you come across any of them, fire them out. If they wear too many stars and crowns for you, let me know, and I will perform the feat myself. You fellows need a good rest and no worries, I know. Good-morning."

At ten minutes to eleven c.o.c.kerell found the Quartermaster-Sergeant and party, wiping their mustaches and visibly refreshed, at the exact spot where he had left them; and the hunt for billets began.

"A" Company were easily provided for, a derelict tobacco factory being encountered at the head of the first street. Lieutenant c.o.c.kerell accordingly detached a sergeant and a corporal from his train, and pa.s.sed on. The wants of "B" Company were supplied by commandeering a block of four dilapidated houses farther down the street--all in comparatively good repair except the end house, whose roof had been disarranged by a sh.e.l.l during the open fighting in the early days of the war.

This exhausted the possibilities of the first street, and the party debouched into the second, which was long and straggling, and composed entirely of small houses.

"Now for a bit of the retail business!" said Master c.o.c.kerell resignedly. "Sergeant M'Nab, what is the strength of 'C' Company?"

"One hunner and thairty-fower other ranks, sirr," announced Sergeant M'Nab, consulting a much-thumbed roll-book.

"We shall have to put them in twos and threes all down the street,"

said c.o.c.kerell. "Come on; the longer we look at it the less we shall like it. Interpreter!"

The forlorn little man, already described, trotted up, and saluted with open hand, French fashion. His name was Baptiste Bombominet ("or words to that effect," as the Adjutant put it), and may have been so inscribed upon the regimental roll; but throughout the rank and file Baptiste was affectionately known by the generic t.i.tle of "Alphonso."

The previous seven years had been spent by him in the congenial and blameless atmosphere of a Ladies' Tailor's in the west end of London, where he enjoyed the status and emoluments of chief cutter. Now, called back to his native land by the voice of patriotic obligation, he found himself selected, by virtue of a residence of seven years in England, to act as official interpreter between a Scottish Regiment which could not speak English, and Flemish peasants who could not speak French. No wonder that his pathetic brown eyes always appeared full of tears. However, he followed c.o.c.kerell down the street, and meekly embarked upon a contest with the lady Inhabitants thereof, in which he was hopelessly outmatched from the start.

At the first door a dame of ma.s.sive proportions, but keen business instincts, announced her total inability to accommodate _soldats_, but explained that she would be pleased to entertain _officiers_ to any number. This is a common gambit. Twenty British privates in your _grenier_, though extraordinarily well-behaved as a cla.s.s, make a good deal of noise, buy little, and leave mud everywhere. On the other hand, two or three officers give no trouble, and can be relied upon to consume and pay for unlimited omelettes and bowls of coffee.

That seasoned vessel, Lieutenant c.o.c.kerell, turned promptly to the Sergeant and Corporal of "C" Company.

"Sergeant M'Nab," he said, "you and Corporal Downie will billet here."

He introduced hostess and guests by an expressive wave of the hand.

But shrewd Madame was not to be bluffed.

"_Pas de sergents, Monsieur le Capitaine!_" she exclaimed.

"_Officiers!_"

"_Ils sont officiers--sous-officiers_," explained c.o.c.kerell, rather ingeniously, and moved off down the street.

At the next house the owner--a small, wizened lady of negligible physique but great staying power--entered upon a duet with Alphonso, which soon reduced that very moderate performer to breathlessness. He shrugged his shoulders feebly, and cast an appealing glance towards the Lieutenant.

"What does she say?" inquired c.o.c.kerell.

"She say dis' ouse no good, sair! She 'ave seven children, and one _malade_--seek."

"Let me see," commanded the practical officer.

He insinuated himself as politely as possible past his reluctant opponent, and walked down the narrow pa.s.sage into the kitchen. Here he turned, and inquired--

"Er--_ou est la pauvre pet.i.te chose?_"

Madame promptly opened a door, and displayed a little girl in bed--a very flushed and feverish little girl.

c.o.c.kerell grinned sympathetically at the patient, to that young lady's obvious gratification; and turned to the mother.

"_Je suis tres--triste_," he said; "_j'ai grand misericorde. Je ne placerai pas de soldats ici. Bon jour!_"

By this time he was in the street again. He saluted politely and departed, followed by the grateful regards of Madame.

No special difficulties were encountered at the next few houses. The ladies at the house-door were all polite; many of them were most friendly; but naturally each was anxious to get as few men and as many officers as possible--except the proprietess of an _estaminel_, who offered to accommodate the entire regiment. However, with a little tact here and a little firmness there, Master c.o.c.kerell succeeded in distributing "C" Company among some dozen houses. One old gentleman, with a black alpaca cap and a six-days beard, proprietor of a lofty establishment at the corner of the street, proved not only recalcitrant, but abusive. With him c.o.c.kerell dealt promptly.

"_ca suffit_!" he announced. "_Montres-moi votre grenier!_"

The old man, grumbling, led the way up numerous rickety staircases to the inevitable loft under the tiles. This proved to be a n.o.ble apartment thirty feet long. From wall to wall stretched innumerable strings.

"We can get a whole platoon in here," said c.o.c.kerell contentedly.

"Tell him, Alphonso. These people," he explained to Sergeant M'Nab, "always dislike giving up their lofts, because they hang their laundry there in winter. However, the old boy must lump it. After all, we are in this country for his health, not ours; and he gets paid for every man who sleeps here. That fixes 'C' Company. Now for 'D'! The other side of the street this time."

Quarters were found in due course for "D" Company; after which c.o.c.kerell discovered a vacant building-site which would serve for transport lines. An empty garage was marked down for the Quartermaster's ration store, and the Quartermaster-Sergeant promptly faded into its recesses with a grateful sigh. An empty shop in the Rue Jean Jacques Rousseau, conveniently adjacent to Battalion Headquarters, was appropriated for that gregarious band, the regimental signallers and telephone section; while a suitable home for the Anarchists, or Bombers, together with their stock-in-trade, was found in the bas.e.m.e.nt of a remote dwelling on the outskirts of the area.

After this, Lieutenant c.o.c.kerell, left alone with Alphonso and the orderly in charge of his horse, heaved a sigh of exhaustion and transferred his attention from his notebook to his watch.

"That finishes the rank and file," he said. "I breakfasted at four this morning, and the battalion won't arrive for a couple of hours yet. Alphonso, I am going to have an omelette somewhere. I shall want you in half an hour exactly. Don't go wandering off for the rest of the day, pinching soft billets for yourself and the Sergeant-Major and your other pals, as you usually do!"

Alphonso saluted guiltily--evidently the astute c.o.c.kerell had "touched the spot"--and was turning away, when suddenly the billeting officer's eye encountered an illegible scrawl at the very foot of his list.

"Stop a moment, Alphonso! I have forgotten those condemned machine-gunners, as usual. _Strafe_ them! Come on! Once more into the breach, Alphonso! There is a little side-alley down here that we have not tried."

The indefatigable c.o.c.kerell turned down the Rue Gambetta, followed by Alphonso, faint but resigned.

"Here is the very place!" announced c.o.c.kerell almost at once. "This house, Number Five. We can put the gunners and their little guns into that stable at the back, and the officer can have a room in the house itself. _Sonnez_, for the last time before lunch!"

The door was opened by a pleasant-faced young woman of about thirty, who greeted c.o.c.kerell--tartan is always popular with French ladies--with a beaming smile, but shook her head regretfully upon seeing the _billet de logement_ in his hand. The inevitable duet with Alphonso followed. Presently Alphonso turned to his superior.

"Madame is ver' sorry, sair, but an _officier_ is here already."

"Show me the _officier_!" replied the prosaic c.o.c.kerell.

The duet was resumed.

"Madame say," announced Alphonso presently, "that the _officier_ is not here now; but he will return."

"So will Christmas! Meanwhile I am going to put an _Emma Gee_ officer in here."

Alphonso's desperate attempt to translate the foregoing idiom into French was interrupted by Madame's retirement into the house, whither she beckoned c.o.c.kerell to follow her. In the front room she produced a frayed sheet of paper, which she proffered with an apologetic smile.

The paper said:--

_This billet is entirely reserved for the Supply Officer of this District. It is not to be occupied by troops pa.s.sing through the town.

By Order_.

Lieutenant c.o.c.kerell whistled softly and vindictively through his teeth.

"Well," he said, "for consummate and concentrated nerve, give me the underlings of the A.S.C.! This pot-bellied blighter not only b.u.t.ts into an area which doesn't belong to him, but actually leaves a chit to warn people off the gra.s.s even when he isn't here! He hasn't signed the doc.u.ment, I observe. That means that he is a newly joined subaltern, trying to get mistaken for a Bra.s.s Hat! I'll fix _him_!"

With great stateliness Lieutenant c.o.c.kerell tore the offending screed into four portions, to the audible concern of Madame. But the Lieutenant smiled rea.s.suringly upon her.

"_Je vous donnerai un autre, vous savez_," he a.s.sured her.