The Secrets of a Kuttite Part 34

The first drops of rain are falling, and as they swish on to him his wee heart, I've no doubt, throbs restlessly for freedom once again. Freedom. Poor little lad, I sympathize with him. Different from the c.o.c.ks or the wagtail he, if he could speak, would agree with me on this point at least. But one thing he doesn't know, and that is the future, nor how close the hand of Fate is to him even now. For it is as good as decided to poison him for being in disposition incompatible with all of us--to wit, that he is a bear and roars. As a matter of fact, five grains of strychnine were given to him last night and he survived.

And what could augur better for the normality of the Knights of the Oblong Table than to say that some cheered and all felt glad when, to-day, we saw Alphonse still going strong, apparently overdosed. The iron of Kastamuni, that rumour says has entered into more than one soul (and rusted, too, withal in others), cannot have bitten so very deep into King Arthur's Knights. And Alphonse the bear, innocent of our design or of the att.i.tude of Destiny, stands on his hind legs like a wee man and chuckles. Is all this drama a tragedy, or comedy, or what?

Please note there has been a duel over an _affaire de coeur_, a love episode, a captive, with a great Fate of uncertain mood flinging a dark shadow at the end....

Past the column of grey smoke thickly climbing through the raining mist, a black speck moves down a white path. It is a labourer returning from his fields beyond the town. To the west is the smothered glow of the setting sun. In the central background of the stage above the high lights, observe a wee, grey coil of smoke twisting upwards from the shining speck in the gully. I know the hut well, although never has it appeared larger than the tiniest b.u.t.ton. There is a romance of an old man and woman, a son at the war, and a pretty girl within, if you look closely!! Behind the house a long track winds uphill to the pa.s.s. But the last light has left the hills and I see only the dark patches of forest. Look carefully, and, if I mistake not, you will see an advancing pair of darkly burning orbs. They are the eyes of another Alphonse, luckier, let us believe, on the warpath, traversing his domains, the dusky fastnesses of the wild glens....

The sun has set and the rain falls more thickly on the hills. Through the gossamer of moving mist fond fancies steal to me. And so the last scene before this slowly falling curtain sings of the Past.

What play does not? It is the song of the rain. Would you like to hear it?...

THE SONG OF THE RAIN

Oh, I'm longing for the homeland way past the setting sun-- I'm yearning for old faces and for more sober fun; But sometimes, as at even, my heart with pleasure fills, While it drifts back to England--when the rain is on the hills.

Oh, I'm tired of the Orient, I want the old, old lanes.

I want the Dear Old Country--her pleasures and her pains.

I want the white-frilled hedgerows--the heather and the rills That lift me back to England now the rain is on the hills.

Night's mantle softly falling o'er Kastamuni town, The last dim colours flying, dark grey and dusky brown.

I hear the goatherd piping to the flock his good-night trills, And my heart hies back to England--for the rain is on the hills.

Below me in its basin the old town dreams away-- I see the first light flicker that ends another day.

The distant bugles dying--the muezzin floats and stills My heart to pray for England--when the rain is on the hills.

Oh, I'm longing for the homeland, my homefolk and my pals, I know that some have fallen 'mid the bullets' madrigals; But a memory's in her woodlands--a love no distance kills-- And to-night my heart's in England--for the rain is on the hills.

PACIFIC ROLLER.

CHAPTER XII

SPRING--PLOTS TO ESCAPE--BETRAYAL--ESCAPE OF OTHERS--I AM SENT TO STAMBOUL FOR HOSPITAL

In this diary, notwithstanding it has been written in the greatest secrecy and kept hidden, I have nevertheless refrained from including any mention of a subject that in my latter days in Kastamuni engaged almost all my attention, _i.e._ escape. Besides being an unnecessary risk, it would have been unfair to those concerned. I am adding a note from Brusa.

After our first winter in Kastamuni, the warmth of April stirred our blood to respond to the call of spring. I decided to try every human device to get away.

The Turks asked us to give our parole not to escape. A keen controversy sprang up in our midst. From the point of view of some officers it meant a few more privileges and less punishment, and escape was almost impossible anyway they said.

Some senior officers were for giving orders forbidding the whole camp individually to escape. Others, including myself, considered this a private matter for the person concerned. I refused my parole, and was down in a black list of the Turks.

It meant extra convoy and less privileges, but we asked for, and were given, no facilities for escaping than what we could make.

In the town some months before I had got to know a Russian "runner," Kantimaroff by name, who was interned in Kastamuni, but secretly in touch with the Russians. For a heavy bribe he got me news of the Black Sea coast only some forty kilometres to the north. So careful was I with Kantimaroff that outside the Turkish baths I spoke to him only once, and then in a shop.

It would take many chapters to set down all the many changes of programme of increased and diminishing hope according as the octroi posts between us and the ranges were changed, or as the Black Sea patrol scoured this coast for fishing-boats. Sometimes vigilance was so increased as to terrify any one against helping us at all. This took months.

At last, by great good fortune, I discovered a Greek outlaw, on whose head the Turks had put a price. He was in hiding, and wanted to get away to Russia. He was in need of money, and, provided he did not run too much risk, would meet us at the Black Sea's edge, and take us with him.

Kantimaroff, who was practically free in Kastamuni, sent him again and again to the coast, or said he did. The scheme looked rosy enough. The main road to Ineboli was heavily guarded, as was that to Samsun.

But between them was a track over the mountains known only to a few. It led to a sacked village halfway to the coast.

Here, formerly, the Greek had lived. It was within ten miles of the sea, and in case the coast were too crowded one might rendezvous here in caves.

The boat problem was the most serious. All these had been collected or destroyed by the German and Turkish authorities, and only a few licensed ones were allowed at all. They were simply not to be had for any money. The nearest coast of Russia lay only 250 miles away.

The Greek, however, after collecting a considerable amount of money for his trips to and from the coast, announced that he had bought a boat, tested it, and buried it in the sand near a creek. There were oars, but no sail. It was while waiting for the return of the Greek on this occasion that Captain Ellis of the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry asked to accompany me, and Lieutenant Sweet of the Gurkhas also decided to come.

We had every detail ready, our kit and disguises and stores and compa.s.s, and wanted to start that night. But Kantimaroff said he could not agree to this. Suspicion might fall on him.

He must be given a few days to perfect his schemes. It was now June, and the moon was rising too early. A later rising about 11 p.m., while leaving us obscured in getting out of the town, would enable us to negotiate the hills and rocky detours we proposed to make, as quickly as possible. So we decided to wait. In the meantime I reserved for myself the supreme luxury of breaking bounds to test the feasibility of this part of our programme. Just after dinner, when the other officers were settling down to bridge, and before the postas had put on their all-important "night" bearing, for at night they were extra vigilant, I side-tracked the sentry downstairs and hid in the woodshed. After waiting half an hour for exchange of guard I got a tiny window open and hopped out into our back-yard.

I had to wait another hour before I could close it behind me. Then I went through the yard, over a roof-top and a high wall, and found myself half stunned at the bottom of the wall on a side street, with some sleepy Turks near by going to prayer.

The mischievous feeling of a schoolboy breaking bounds for the first time was nothing to mine, although I had been out on previous occasions. This time I felt that the first step of the escape was feasible. I wandered around the town in a fez and old clothes, shuffling a pair of dilapidated shoes _a la Turque_, and coughing steadily. This because I had disguised my face with a scarf as if I had a severe cold in the head. I found out where the postas were, and where not, and after more than one narrow squeak got back over the wall with the greatest difficulty, pulling a part of it down in doing so. Some days later, as the plan was being held up, it was necessary for me to get out again. This time I slipped out in the afternoon in uniform with a basket of purchases, ostensibly from the bazaar. Now, sometimes our postas lagged behind us in the town so that an officer walking apparently alone was no uncommon sight. It worked beautifully. On being seen alone with the purchases I imagined our own postas would think I had outdistanced or lost my posta, and on this occasion I merely walked boldly past all our sentries and into the front door of our house. They were suspicious the second time.

Not a word of all this I said to any one. Experience was dearly bought and precious.

Two days before we were to start I heard that somehow or other Kantimaroff had been approached by a party from the Lower House, and anxious to reap a double harvest, he had, it appeared, taken money from them and divulged about the boat. At this time any intercourse between the houses was difficult, and I endeavoured to communicate with Keeling, who was organizing the other escape. Ellis was less watched than I was and asked the other party not to touch Kantimaroff who was, it appeared, heavily suspected. We agreed to give each other notice of our "bunk" so as to arrange to go the same night. So soon as one party got away the other would have little chance.

I now met Vicomte d'Arici, the Italian songster that had lately come to Kastamuni, and who resided with the Italian interned. I met him secretly in the castle above our house, and he helped me with information considerably. I found also that he was a political prisoner, and had done an amount of political work before the war, and knew people I knew in Berlin and on the Continent. He was a light-hearted and plucky fellow, and except that it wouldn't suit him, would have come himself. He told me to beware of Kantimaroff, who was on the point of betraying us to the Turks. The Greek seemed straight enough, and wanted to see us.

Later I took Ellis, and we both had a night "rehearsal."

Being two helped matters at the wall. We improved our disguise, and even gave lights to unsuspecting Turks.

On the way back, however, we took a wrong corner and ran into the arms of a sentry who challenged us. Ellis tried to answer in Turkish, which was fatal. The sentry was obdurate.

He had hold of us lightly by the sleeve. Pushing some liras into his hand we disengaged ourselves and took to our heels, scrambled over the wall, and got back into bed by inches ahead of the search party.

The next morning, to our secret amus.e.m.e.nt, and the wonder of the camp, a certain major, who had given his parole, and who used to walk about proudly without any postas at all, was suspected by the Turks with having been "out at night."

The variations of the rumour were highly interesting. Who were the two out? Every one good humouredly accused every one else, and quite a number of officers decided to get out as it now appeared that it could be done.

I supplied the other escape party with particulars of the brigands with Cowi Bey in the valleys between us and the sea.

If one could get to them the chances were that for a ransom they would a.s.sist one across the Black Sea with the extreme chance of getting knocked on the head for one's boots.

I was now secretly informed by d'Arici that I was heavily suspected. This made inter-communication between houses most difficult. Sweet who was in the Lower House decided to start with the other party, and Captain Ellis and Lieutenant Taylor, I.A.R., who were in my house, to come with me. We got everything ready, and on an evening in the third week in July, we waited in our room ready to start with all our disguises and equipment ready. At the last moment I got an urgent message that Kantimaroff's house was picketed by police, and the Greek had run away in fright to a house near by. We made one more desperate effort to go and join him and make our plans after getting out. I sent urgent messages to Lieutenant Keeling through our trusty Sergeant Britain not to try to see Kantimaroff openly, as he was suspected.

However, that day he and two members of the other party went up to the Russians in the street, with the consequence that I got a chit on a paper bag saying the Greek had fled, and he was in danger of his life and that, for the money we had given him, he could not do more than give us all the information he had. The same night a posta was delegated to watch me, and every half-hour he came to my bed. We waited for an opportunity. None came. And our escape, which had offered a most excellent chance of success, went "phut" accordingly.

The other party duly informed us that they intended to start. Three weeks afterwards they did. The posta had just left me about eleven, when we heard a shot. Some excitement occurred down below, and postas swarmed up to our house to see if I was there. Search parties were out all night.

We were all confined to our house. Next day I heard that at the last minute the escape was nearly nipped in the bud at the start. This was prevented by our old Bombardier Prosser, who did servant down there. One of the party forgot his watch, and actually sent the bombardier, who was showing them out, back for it. A posta accosted him. He knocked the posta down, and rushing up to his room, shaved his moustache off and got into bed. They had him out and listened to his heart to see, as they did on such occasions, if it was still beating quickly. This would have meant he had just been out.

We remained under "bund" without incident. Hourly reports came that the other party had been captured. But they didn't return. The following notice appeared posted up next day and signed by the commandant.

"_Possession of the offensives have been taken. Other officers are requested not to escape, and will be surely shot in bunking.

Officers offensive in this fashion, giving their parole, are informed they must be fired at in any case. All are requested to be happy.

Do not take rotten advantage of your old postas for G.o.d sake.