LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFO.'^NIA RIVERSIDE CA/V\y^ THE HANDY MAN TWO BOOKS OF THE SEA. SPUN=YARN: Sea Stories. BY Morgan Robertson. Cloth, Cfow?i. Zvo, 6s. Daily Express: — "He is the most powerful writer of Short Stories since Mr. Kipling dawned upon a dazzled and delighted world. There is a fire, a vigour, an originality, a felicity of phrase and situation in these tales of the sea, a tragedy and pathos which rivet the reader's attention . . . wonderful." IDYLLS OF THE SEA. F. T. BULLEN. Author of " The Cruise of the Cachalot," etc. Second Edition, Cloth, Crown %vo, ds. Times : — "We have in ' Idylls of the Sea' those qualities of keen observa- tion, vivid presentation, and imagina- tive interpretation of the things of the sea which delighted readers of ' The Cruise of the Cachalot ' : ... as a rule he is as convincing as he is vivid, and even when he fails to convince, he rarely fails to interest and to charm. He has in fact discovered and explored a new field of literature, and stands alone in the mastery of its secrets." London: GRANT RICHARDS 9 Henrietta Street, W.C. THE HANDY MAN And Other Verses By HAROLD BEGBIE 3Lant(on GRANT RICHARDS 1900 'fRGoos Touchstone. Come, sit, sit, and a song. First Page. Shall lue clap into 'r roundly, ivithoiit haivking or sjyitting or saying ive are hoarse, ivhich are the only prologues to a had •voice ? Second Page. / ' faith, f faith ; and both in a tune, like ttvo gipsies on a horse. ERRATUM. Page Si, line 4, for "There" read "These" NOTE The majority of these verses appeared in the Morning Post ; others in the Globe, Literature, and To-Day, through the courtesy of xchose editors I am per- mitted to puhlish them in their present form. The lines " Knight o' the Sea " •were writteri J'or the Souvenir of the Royal Naval and Military Bazaar. CONTENTS PAOE The Handy Man . 1 Both Arms . 6 The Song of Fighting Jack 10 The Navy's Cradle 13 Knight o' the Sea 19 Our Imposing Fleet 23 Wood and Steel . 27 Liberty Jack 31 Hymn for Federation 85 The Answer 37 Brought Forward 40 A Song in Camp . 45 All Together 49 Our Men 53 The Day's Work 57 viii CONTENTS PAGE Bulleb's Bulldogs 00 Majuba Day 04 The Deserter 07 An Incident 72 Battle Priests . 70 The Good Samaritans 79 R.A.M.C. . 82 Old B.-P. . 87 The Immortal Handful 92 Pretoria Bobs 95 To Colonel Plumer . 90 The Bearer 103 In the Garden at Khartoum 107 ''From Plague, Pestilence, and Famine — " 109 Queen Mother . . 114 THE HANDY MAN (Ladysmith, October 30, 1899) WeVe seen him dragging his guns along in the Agricultural Hall, Trotting about in the soundless tan as if he were playing at ball. But none of us saw him in far Natal, tugging away at his load Through the ruts in the road which the rain had cut, and where there was never a roatl ; 2 THE HANDY MAN Nobody heard it or saw it, and there wasn't a band to play, But he landed 'em up at Ladysmith from the cruiser down in the bay ; And just when the guns were needed, and looking quite spick and span, With a nod to the gent of the Absent Mind, up doubles the Handy Man. Handy afloat, handy ashore, handier still in a hole. Ready to swarm up a mountain-side, or walk on a greasy pole ; Lugging a gun through a desert, scrubbing a deck milk-white. Jack is the man for a children's romp and the awkward hour of a fight. THE HANDY MAN 3 He finds the range in the time it takes to cock his eye on the foe, He stands as stiff as a Noah's Ark till his officer says " Let go ! " And as soon as he's hit where he's told to hit, and somebody's said " Well done," He turns with a click to the right-about, and trundles away with his gun. His eye is the eye of the eagle that sees and knows from afar, His hand is as swift as the hand that smote the triumph of Trafalgar, And the heart is the heart of a lion that hides in the glorious dress Where the only gold is the name he loves with its pennon of H.M.S. 4 THE HANDY MAN Handy afloat, handy ashore, sleeps like a babe in his bunk, Ready to dance, and ready to fight, and never been known to funk ; Tugging his gun behind him, he's fighting his way to Heav'^n — Doing the thing he is told to do, to the tune of the Four-point-Sev'n. He keeps his cap for his own hard head when whispers of friendship fly. It isn"'t the thing for a Handy Man to swop with a fond ally ; And it isn't the wish of the Handy Man that a furriner's arm should pull A single oar in the trim tough boat, whose skipper is old John Bull. THE HANDY MAN 5 He keeps to himself does the Handy Man, when the clouds are packed for a squall, But he comes with his gun from the ends of the earth when the bugle gives him a call ; And the babe sleeps sound in her cot o' nights, and the trader may plot and plan, For under the stars on the rolling deep stands the vigilant Handy Man. Handy afloat, handy ashore, easiest soul to please, Ready to straddle a merry-go-round or ride on the plunging seas ; Son of this sea-girt England, ward of the world-wide breed, Jack is the man for the midnight watch or the hour of the Empire's need. BOTH ARMS A SAiLoirs Marching Song Tramp ! tramp ! this is my song, Soldier and sailor marching along, One from the barrack and one from the ship, Marching along with a swing from his hip ; Over the mountains and on thro"" the plains ; Hark to the jingle of weapons and chains ; Storming the trenches and breaking the square. Both arms together — a thundering pair ! BOTH ARMS 7 O the left you hold for hitting, and the right you keep for guard, And the left can leap out lusty and can slog almighty hard ! But there comes a time, my hearties, and the sailor isn't loth. When you ve got to sling two fists in, when youVe oot to slam with both. Tramp ! tramp ! here's a good song, Soldier and sailor marching along. Shoulder to shoulder, eyes straight ahead. Swinging their arms to the tune of the tread. Tramp ! tramp ! hark to the sound ! Thunder of marching that rolls from the ground. 8 BOTH ARMS Danger to England ? On to the foe ! Both arms together, and swift be the blow ! O the left you hold for hitting, and the right you keep for guard. And the left can leap out lusty and can slog almighty hard ! But there comes a time, my hearties, and the sailor isn't loth, When you up and sling two fists in, when you slam away with both. Tramp ! tramp ! I^ook in their eyes — Shoulder to shoulder — England's allies : Never they tremble, never despair, Marching; to Death with their heads in the air ! BOTH ARIVIS 9 Guaidino- our island, guardino; our realm. True to the word of the man at the helm. True to our honour, valiant and strong, Both arms together, swinging along ! O the left you hold for hitting, and the right you keep for guard, And the left can leap out lusty and can slog almighty hard ! But there comes a time, my hearties, and the sailor isn"'t loth. When you sling two iron fists in, when you slog and slam with both. THE SONG OF FIGHTING JACK The cruiser's lying idle in the bay With the water washing softly off her side, And the wind that hits her rigging smells of spray. Smells of biting salt it's whistled from the tide; I can hear the ocean calling in my sleep, I can hear her whisper womanly, and croon, I can see the laughing glitter on the deep From the man what grins so pleasant in the moon. THE SONG OF FIGHTING JACK 11 But I hear as well as the grinding swell The roar of the gun and the shriek of the shell ; I see the track where the horsemen hack, And I wake to know I am fighting Jack, Wake to know I am striking a blow AVith my old sea gun at an old land foe. The gun I've fired across the water's glint Rips the rocks where they are hiding in the pass : Ay, it tears their jagged mountain into flint, And it flings a flame of fire into the grass ! () the gun was made for busting ships at sea. Which is work the Navy learns us men in blue ; But the gun has ketched the land idea — and me ? Well, I find as I am learning of it too. 12 THE SONG OF FIGHTING JACK And it's truth I state, we will shoot as straight When the furriner drives at our iron freight, When Thomas A. will be far away Wanting to help — but it isn't his lay ; Wars on sea are a different spree, They must bide their end with my gun and me. THE NAVY^S CRADLE Dedicated to the Boys of the Royal Hospital School at Greenwich Trafalgar Road in Greenwich runs out of Nelson Street, And ifs there the Navy''s cradle may be seen, Where the little Jack is nurtured who will one day man our Fleet, And it's O he'll keep the decks of England clean. At the desk in sombre serges while a nibbled pen he sucks 14 THE NAVY'S CRADLE Jacky''s learning how to read and how to write, And with cutlass and with carbine in his varie- gated ducks He is learnino; how to drill and how to fight. He can pedal at a Singer when it comes to stitch- ing clothes, He can knot and he can splice and he can cook. He is carpenter and blacksmith, and the jolly youngster knows Every signal in the Royal Navy''s book ; All the flags of all the nations Master Jack has got in stock. And ifs O the things they've packed into his mind. THE NAVY'S CRADLE 15 He can make the toughest paunch-mat, mend a window or a sock, And he's up to all the dodges of the wind. He has names we never hear of for the common things of life, And he doesn't always call a mop a mop, It's a chunk of toke he butters with his Govern- mental knife, But the butter is not butter, it is flop ; O'er his shirt he wears a jumper, on his head he sticks a goss — Such a playful little humour he has got ! He's a mason, he's a baker, and he's only at a loss When you order him to tell you what he's not. 16 THE NAVY'S CRADLE He can march like gallant Gordons, he can drill like Joe Marines, And his father's little quicker in a boat, He's as proud as any gunner that his jacket is the Queen's, And he swims — about as nat'ral as a float. With his toys of guns and rigging jolly Jacky loves to romp In the rooms that smell o' cordage and o' tar, While his nurses preach the gospel and the glory and the pomp Of the life aboard a British Man-o'-War. You may sail the wide world over but you'll never clap your eyes On a cradle like the crib where Jacky crows. THE NAVY^S CRADLE 17 And you'll never find a bantling half so cunning and so wise As the little chap who lies in it and grows. With his goss pulled on his eyebrows, in his ducks o' doubtful white, With his chubby hands laid easy on his hips, He is waiting till we tell him that ifs time to go and fight — That we'll trust him with Britannia's pretty ships. O the joyful waves come leaping to the shingle and the sand, Rock the cradle, rock the cradle, Jack's asleep ! O the gallant Fleet's abuilding which will answer to his hand When he's rocking in the cradle of the deep ; c 18 THE NAVY'S CRADLE When he's rocking in the cradle where the ships of England go, Where they went in valiant days of wood and sail ; O there's steam upon the ocean, but the iron line's aglow With the blood of ancient days that cannot fail! KNIGHT O^ THE SEA He rides through raving storm to-day, hke knight with helm and shield, Lord o' the sea redressing wrongs he rides, he rides afield ; The stinging salt is in his face, the wind screams past his ear As the good steed leaps through roaring waves like a lusty light-limbed deer. Knight o' the Sea he rides afield to keep the open road Where the trader comes with an English sono- astride of his golden load, 20 KNIGHT O' THE SEA From Auckland up to Plymouth Sound the path is swept and clean By the man who rides on the horse that wears the harness of the Queen. His armour is a suit o' blue and he wears no iron mask, But his lady''s colours are there to see on his royal sea-drenched casque ; His royal sea-drenched casque, my lads, where writ in solemn gold Flames " Terrible *" as " Temeraire " flamed in the days of old. Light was his heart and glad his eye — but clenched his iron fists — When far afield the clarion rang shrill challenge to the lists ; KNIGHT O^ THE SEA 21 O then he rode with dripping spurs, till drenched in frothing spray He swung his charger up and drew the rein in Durban Bay. He guards the Ocean as he goes through wildering fields of foam, But never a hand steals through to force the fastening of his Home, And safe from jealous plunderer our England takes her sleep While her Knight o' the Sea on his royal steed rides over the open Deep. His armour is a suit o' blue and he wears no iron mask. But his lady's colours are there to see on his royal sea-drenched casque ; 22 KNIGHT O^ THE SEA His royal sea-drenched casque, my lads, where writ in solemn gold Flames " Powerful " as " Victory "" flamed in the days of old. OUR IMPOSING FLEET [" If sucli returns are to be published they should certainly exclude from the list of British warships a number of vessels which no one would think of sending into action on any tei'ms whatever." — Morning Post.^ The Lords of the British Navy sat down with their pens in hand, And they made a list of the ships at sea and the ships that are yet to be manned ; They wrote them down and they drew a line, and they added them fair and neat, O never before, said the smiling Lords, could we show such a beautiful Fleet ! 24 OUR IMPOSING FLEET There were battleships, destroyers, gun-boats, cruisers, coast-defence, O the miffht of Nelson's Britain on the sea ! And with ninety odd torpedo-boats let carp- ing; critics grieve That the total under " Special " comes to three ! But the Lords of the British Navy stuffed into their mighty list A bevy o'' ships that a man might split with a blow from his knuckled fist. And some of the boats were decrepit and the tackle was obsolete, But the Lords of the Navy totted 'em up with the best of the British Fleet ! OUR IMPOSING FLEET 25 There were battleships, destroyers, gun-boats, cruisers, coast-defence, O the total of the aggregated tons ! And with such a lot of vessels does it matter if a few Do their barking out o'' muzzle-loading guns The man of the British Navy can handle the best o' craft : He would fiLjht to the last with his cutlass out if he stood on a tin-tack raft, And the time for the crippled cruiser to go where the Navies meet Won't come, my Lords, till the halt and the maim are manning the British Fleet ! 26 OUR IMPOSING FLEET Give us battleship, destroyer, gun - boat, cruiser, coast-defence, That are worth the Hon's heart and iron wrist ; Take your red-ink quill and ruler, bow you o'er the desk ag-ain — Strike the Hy})ocrite and Hoary off the list ! WOOD AND STEEL Old navies that live in stonj, Nezo names on many lips. The old and new one glory — TJie fame of' Bi'itish skips ! The " Victory " ami " Powerful;^ White sail and drifting smoke ; The " Temeraire " and " Terrible,'''' New steel and ancient oak. When England rode to battle on Neptune's open plain With Howard, Drake, and Frobisher to sweep the troubled main, 28 WOOD AND STEEL When good Queen Bess ruled England, with eighty ship a-sail The strength of Spain was broken and strown upon the gale. When England rode to battle and Nelson served the King, Still went she forth in ships o"" wood with canvas fluttering, And with the valiant Victory and fighting Temeraire Swept through the Frenchman's double line and stripped his glory bare. With rent and ragged rigging, with smashed and splintered mast. Her wooden sides ripped open, she gripped the foeman fast, WOOD AND STEEL 29 And through the swirl of waters, and through the lashing gale, Brought back the prize to old Spithead in days o' wood and sail. Now soes she swift and sudden and knits the separate zones. With mail of steel patrolling the vasty world she owns, With Poioerfid and Terrible, with Blenheim and with Blake — Lo ! England guards the ancient way of Nelson and of Drake. When War heaps high his furnace and England tries the steel, God prove it honest metal from conning-tower to keel. 30 WOOD AND STEEL God grant in Armageddon we strike the ancient stroke — 'Neath England's steel alive and true the British heart of oak. LIBERTY JACK (London, Easter 1900) I SAW him tumble out of the train in his jacket of navy bhie, Hero of Ladysmith landing safe in the bustle of Waterloo, And hang, hang, hang went the slamming doors, guards whistled, and engines screamed While he stood in the whirl of the surging throng and buttoned his jacket and beamed ; He carried his luggage all serene in a handkerchief neatly tied. 32 LIBERTY JACK And the schoolboy getting a play-box out looked up at his cap with pride, — Looked at the Name perched over the keen, blue eyes of Liberty Jack, — Letters of faded gold that loomed on a ribbon of rusty black. Home again from fighting, home from battle's toil. Standing glad and hearty once again on English soil. Merry as a schoolboy, modest as a maid — He who dragged his gun and lent a stricken town his aid ! I saw him swing up a Surrey lane, his little red load in his hand, LIBERTY JACK 33 He blew great clouds from his pipe to sail o'er the ripple of meadow-land, He held his head in the air and drew the breath of the soil to his lungs As he strode to the village that gave him birth, and the music of English tongues ; I saw him pause at a cottage door, under a roof of thatch, Pause with a smile, for an eaoer hand was fumblins: the clumsy latch. Then I heard the door on its hinges creak, — a cry, and a sudden run ; And the mother had opened her trembling arms and gathered her gallant son. Home again from fighting, home from off the sea, D 34 LIBERTY JACK Kissing dear old mother with the children round his knee, Joining in the laughter, leading in the game — He who manned his gun and saved a town from bitter shame. HYMN FOR FEDERATION God save the Queen that she may see The Federation of the Free ; This be Thy crown upon her Hfe, The issue of our righteous strife ; God save the Queen that she may bless The union of the numberless. When doubting hearts grew faint with fear, Her children o'er the seas drew near, God draw them nearer till they stand Confederate with the IMother Land, One nation, one in aim and birth, Shoulder to shoulder circling Earth. 36 HYMN FOR FEDERATION Let not her reign unfinished run, Knit all her kingdoms into one : Let not alone the trump of war Unite her children scattered far ; Lord, bring them in, to stand with pride About the Queen in peace allied. This be high Heaven's last reward For all her faithful service, Lord, This Thy great dower on her days Whose pomp was in Thy prayer and ])raise- God save her, that her eyes may see The Great Connnunion of the Free ! THE ANSWER Over the world that has waited long the whisper of panic runs : Listen ! the tramp of the armies, the clang of the gathering guns, The scorn of the jealous nations, the laugh of the land that hates, The snarl of the hungry peoples, the shriek of the crumhlino; states ! Over the world that has watched the sea the whisper of panic runs. And England stretches her arms abroad and gathers her lusty sons, 38 THE ANSWER Gathers them out of the glowing East, out of the loyal West, Out of the North and out of the South, and stands with her heart at rest. Never a boast or a foolish word, they gather about her knee. What is the answer made to the world ? It is here for the world to see : The silent sti'eng-th of a scattered line stretched over the ancient land. An army streaming across the world that gathers without command. For the race that have 'stablished freedom, and made their paths thro"" the flood. Have won their Right by their spirits' sweat, by their bodies' living blood. THE ANSWER 39 And what they have won by soul and sword, by soul and sword they keep, Tho' the Navies flash from a thousand ports and strike for the sundering Deep. BROUGHT FORWARD (Thk Volunteer) He has buckled on his armour, and his coat-tails folded lie In the painted chest of drawers beside the bed ; And he doesn't wear a topper with a dickey and a tie, But he's crammed a jaunty war-hat on his head ; In his swing is all the swagger of the British Grenadier, In his eye is all the challenge of the Line, And he'll look a martial veteran when he meets us all next year With a medal on his tunic for a sion. BROUGHT FORWARD 41 March away, march away ; O the rattle of the drum, O the thrill of blaring trumpets — March away ! From the office in Cheapside to the trooper on the tide And the trenches where the buzzing bullets play. He is singing warlike ballads, he is bending o'er the map, And he bucks of Bobs, and Kitchener, and White, He has found the proj^er angle for his toes and for his cap. And his bursting heart is spoiling for the fight! 42 BROUGHT FORWARD O the ancient Easter Mondays lie behind him mean and tame, For the bugle that is ringing calls to work Where the wage is paid by glory and the praise is dealt by fame, And the burden isn't one a man will shirk. March away, march away ; O the scream- ing of the shells, O the rain of hidden Mausers — March away ! From the city's fog and slush to the sudden bayonet rush And the blow that wins the laurels of the day. There's a little wife in Cla])ham with a baby in a pram, BROUGHT FORWARD 43 She is spendino- rather less on shopping now, And she does not meet her husband by a crowded scarlet tram That comes tinkling; in the twilioht to the Plough ; In the parlour there's a portrait of a gallant youth in grey, ^Vith an order that was posted from Pall Mall, And she talks to all the neighbours in a military way Of " My husband with the Army in Natal." March away, march away ; O the home he's left behind, O the cradle in the nursery — March away ! 44 BROUGHT FORWARD From the irksome daily round to the field where volleys sound, And the might of England gathers for the fray. A SONG IN CAMP There's one can tell of the grizzly bear, And one of the kangaroo, Over the borders we've come with our orders, We know what we're here to do ; For we all of us live in the same big house, Though each has his own little wing, And when obstinate nations attack the foundations We all come together and sing : For England, for England, the cradle of our line, The lances ride and the rifles ring and the scattered sons combine : 46 A SONG IN CAMP For England, for England. We fling our strength between The Empire and the Danger for our England and the Queen. There's some that come from a Melbourne shop, Some that were bred in Quebec, Some from a prairie, and some from a dairy. And some from the Terrible s deck ; And some of us marched from the counter of Coutts, And some from a constable's beat, But we're all thrown together in khaki and leather — We sing the same song when we meet : A SONG IN CA:\IP 47 For England, for England, the cradle of our line, The lances ride and the rifles ring and the scattered sons combine : For England, for England. We fling our strength between The Empire and the Danger for our England and the Queen. And when we've done what we're here to do. And the ships go east and west. Each with his story of hardship and glory — And little brown holes in his chest, We shall think o' the nights when we smoked our clays And lay on our backs in a ring. 48 A SONG IN CAMP Wearv-worn after battle but making a rattle With the song that was easy to sing : For England, for England, the cradle of our line, The lances ride and the rifles ring and the scattered sons combine : For England, for England. We fling our strength between The Empire and the Danger for our England and the ^)ueen. ALL TOGETHER (By The Man in the Street) Here's a song of the men who fight for England and the Queen, Canada lads, Australia boys, Tommy, and Joe the Marine, English, Irish, Scotchmen, and Welsh, and Jack from off the sea. All of 'em marching, and sweating, and fighting for fellows like you and me ; D'you think at night when youVe safe in bed of the work they've got to do, E 50 ALL TOGETHER D'you dream of shells that leap in the sky and pass your ear with a slioo ! D''you think, dear friend, when you curse the rain, and swear when the breakfast's late, Of the men who run to the fumes of hell and rattle their guns at the gate ? All together ! all together ! that's their motto. All together, all together, that's their cry I Oh, they know there's work to do, that they're bound to see it through, And it's " All together — together — Do or Die ! " Here's a song of the men who die for England and the Queen, ALL TOGETHER 51 Not so good as they ought to be, says a very reverend Dean ; Not so good as they ought to be ! Is it a time to cuss ? ril not look for the scarlet stain on souls that are dying for us ! Here's enough for the likes o"" me — the Death they've got to face, Face they do with a song of joy — and God will provide the grace ; Here's enough for the likes o' me, — theirs the Hand that strips The tyrant's might in the open day and strikes the lie from his lips ! All together ! all together ! march our brothers, 52 ALL TOGETHER Bearing Freedom on their bayonets as they go, Search by Modeler's trampled banks — not a coward in the ranks ! And they've scattered, and they've shat- tered, England's foe. OUR MEN [" The Men are Splendid.'''' — Sir Redvers Buller.] How shall it trouble, the moment's check ? For the hearts of the men are true, True as they were when the volleys rang o'er the grasses of Waterloo, True as they were when the millions rose and struck at the British Raj, True as they were when the Cossack guns roared scorn to Cardigan's " Charge ! " 54 OUR MEN Do ye ask why the nations heart is calm through the long-drawn racking days ? Why is there light in the jieople's eyes ? and peace in the people's ways ? Is the General checked by a shrouded foe ? Is he caught in his cunning hold ? How shall it trouble ? Our men are true as they were in the days of old ! They will wait as the nation waits, in faith ; they will wait for the hour of doom, Never a grumble and never a doubt, and never an hour of gloom ; Full of the strength that is very life, they wait in a valiant trust To answer the check with the blow that routs and shatters the foe to dust ! OUR MEN 55 As they lie in the trenches, gun in hand, they sing of their land and race, Sing to the tune of the screaming shells, with the blinding sun in their face, And they shout with joy when the order comes to spring to the battle's shock, And drive the foe at the bayonet-point from his burrowing lines in the rock. They will climb in the night up the ambushed hill, they will charge in the burning sun ; They will thirst thro' the day, they will freeze thro' the night, they will stand by the splin- tered gun ; They will face the hail of the hissing lead, they will charge on the hidden hosts ; 56 OUR MEN They will fight with a song on their parching lips, and die with a smile at their posts : These are the men who have walked our streets in the years of a languid peace, Who have learned their drill on the barrack square, and longed for their time's release ; Boys from the slums of our crowded towns, lads from the drowsy farm — Men of a race that never fears, and the Empire's strong right arm ! THE DAY'S WORK It's a business getting up Snowdon, when you're fresh from your morning bath, With a sandwich tin and a whisky flask and the sun on your beaten path ; But it's harder work for the muscles, and a stiff'er job for the bones, CHmbing up hundreds of mountain feet when most of the feet are stones ! Climbing it, too, in the darkness, with a gun for an alpenstock, Slipping and tripping, and waiting to hear the rifle's ping from the rock. 58 THE DAY'S WORK Slipping and tripping, but panting on, up thro' the silent night, With the sweat running over your hand to your gun and trickling on to the sight. But what of the end of the journey, Avhen you're " safe " on the mountain top. And the sun peeps out of the dewy East— and the shells in a welcome pop ? When there isn't an hour to enjoy the view and examine your broken shins, When the foe leaps up on the other side and the work of the day begins ? Ah ! that is the crown of the climbing for the sons of a Northern race, Look at the joy and the triumph's light that shines in each sweating face ! THE DAY^S WORK 59 Up thro' the pitchy darkness, up the embattled height, Up to the rays of the rising sun, and the dawn of the long day's fight. BULLER^S BULLDOGS Not like a flame of fire Swept they to glory, But when shall Britons tire Telling their story ? Men who with dogged heart, Balked, torn, and riven. Held to the bulldog's part, Foiled, but not driven. Stayed at the shattered bridge. See the line quiver ! Hurled from the mountain ridge, Swept from the river, BULLER^S BULLDOGS 61 Backward and back they fall, Face to the foeman, — Fire of the ancient Gaul, Heart of the Roman ! Grimly the bastions rise Rock-ridged and solemn ! But where the foe that lies Raking; the column ? Up the sheer height they scale, Brother cheers brother, Up to the crest — to fail. Swept from another ! Down to the silent plain, Bitter their curses, Down, but to grip again. Scorning reverses ; 62 BULLER'S BULLDOGS Stern-eyed they dig each bed, Counting the number, Hard-lipped they leave the Dead Smiling in slumber. Then to the battle''s shock — Hark to the thunder ! Buttress of jagged rock Bursting asunder ! Red is the foaming tide, Red, stones and grasses — On, on, they rush and ride Into hell's passes ! On till the task is done, Balked, torn, and riven, On till the end is won. Foiled, but not driven. BULLER'S BULLDOGS 63 Men of the ancient breed, Shot through, but clinching, GrappHng with hands that bleetl, Dogged, unflinching ! Not like a flame of fire Swept they to glory. But when shall Britons tire Telling their story ? Tale of the men who fought Asking no pity. Ay, inch by inch, and brought Help to a city. MAJUBA DAY O Bobs, it was a dreary day until you came and spoke, The drizzle dripped so silent and the air it made us choke. For the wind had quit the city, and the rain it fell and fell. And the eloom was like the moments when a sexton tolls his bell. MAJUBA DAY 65 But you spoke, light-footed captain, and the town began to smile, We could see the streets and 'buses all a-grinning for a mile ! And the club forgot the climate, and the clerk forgot his till. And they talked of little Roberts — and a distant stricken hill ; Of a hill where England sorrows, and has shed her mother tears, Through the weary, weary waiting of the bitter, bitter years, Of a hill where trembling statesmen dug our honour's shallow grave — Dried our blood with coward parchment and bowed down before a knave ! 66 MAJUBA DAY You put heart into the squadrons when they stand in grim array — You gave heart to England's Empire when you kept Majuba Day ! And the cheer that gives you answer rolls its thunder from afar — From the muddy streets of London, from the heights of Kandahar, • • • • * His aching loss he put away with firm and patriot hand, Tearless the veteran turned from home to serve his Queen and land, And the love he bears for England steeled the hand and nerved the brain To the blow which broke rebellion, cleared our honour of its stain ! THE DESERTER (A Private's Confidence) He hadn't the heart for the barrack-square, nor the hour in the Riding School, He broke it rubbing an old bridoon and a horse that would never get cool ; The corporal's tongue in the room was sharp, for his shelf was a sorry place, With his boots in kinks from the foot to the knee, and as dull as a busby case ; There wasn't a awkwarder gawk in the troop at making a tidy bed. 68 THE DESERTER The pipe -clay got in his tunic -braid and there wasn't no quiff on his head, The sergeant sneered and the captain frowned and the Room they treated him hard, So one dark night when the Rounds yawned by they was short of a stable-guard. His kit was found at his hoi'se's heels, and we spotted the nick in the wall Where heM clambered up by the farrier''s shop, and dropped on his pusher's ^ shawl ; But they didn't hustle to fetch him back, for the adjutant got the wink — There was better men than a swob like him to take their ease in the clink. ^ Nursemaid, one who pushes a perambulator ; applied to any sweetheart. THE DESERTER 69 So he got a job on a Yorkshire farm, and he carried the pigs their wash, He nursed the foal that had strangles bad, and he coddled the cow with closh ; They gave him a cottage with fourteen bob, his work was the worst of the lot. And he married the ugliest maid in the place, and she called him a drunken sot. But the bugles rang, and the village talked, and he borrowed the farmer\s Post^ He spelled it through with a muttering lip and a face that was white as a ghost ; He spelled it through, and he slunk away, and his missus called at the inn. And just at the edge of her apron peeped the end of a rolling-pin ! 70 THE DESERTER But he wasn't there — he was far away, and he's farther away by now-, Riding a horse that would split in two if you hitched him on to a plough. Riding a horse at the back of French, riding him straight and well, With a lance that drives like a flame of fire through the guttering lines of Hell. Now he wasn't the man who could understand the grind of the Army mill — Why the tongue of a buckle must gleam like a bit, with the first six months of it drill, He hadn't the mind that is quick and clean, that is swift when it's just — Obey, And he isn't so good as the men who last, who go through the mill, and stay. THE DESERTER 71 And this is his due : he is out with the rest, and he knew it was right to go, He has run away from the barrack-square, and he won't run away from the foe ; And when it is over he'll slouch away to the peace of a dalesman's life, He'll carry the buckets of wash to the pigs, and his fourteen bob to his wife. AN INCIDENT In his uniform soaking and draggled, with the blood in his sleepless eyes, Hungry and dirty and bearded, he looks at the morning skies. He feels for his pipe in the blanket, he calls to his chum for a light — When a bugle sounds on the chilling air, and he stands in his boots upright. AN INCIDENT 73 There is iinolino- of chains and the straining; of harness, the clashing of steel, And tlie gunner swings off at a gallop as he buckles the spur to his heel, There are whispers, and jestings, and laughter — then the scream of a rushing shell And the crash of the guns from the trenches that fling back the gatew^ays of Hell. In his uniform soaking and grimy he stands with his gun in his place, While the bullets peck at the riven ground and spit up the earth in his face ; He stands as he stood in a scarlet coat with a crowd at the barrack gate, But the colonel knows what his heart is at, and he whispers : " It's coming. Wait ! " 74 AN INCIDENT So he glares at the smoke from the trenches, so he chats to his chum on his right, Muddy and thirsty and frozen — but setting his teeth for the fight, And he stands like a rock through the morning with the butt of his gun at his toe — Till the bugles ring and he leaps to the front with his bayonet-point at the foe. To the mouth of the sputtering cannon, to the ridge where the rifles flame, On ! with a shout that is strong as the blow — though he's tortured and spent and lame. Through the line of the reeling foemen, through the hail of the hissing lead — He wins to the rocks with his bayonet-point and staggers among the dead. AN INCIDENT 75 In his uniform soaking and tattered he Hes with the mist in his eyes, The sun has set and the air is still, but he looks no more on the skies ; The lips of the cannon are frothless, there is rest in the worn brigade, And the only sound on the stricken field is the noise of his comrade's spade. BATTLE PRIESTS These are God's witnesses who stand Where weeping England counts her loss, Who lift with firm and holy hand Hiffh o'er the battle Jesu's Cross ; And 'mid the swaying armies drown War's angry clang with words of Life, Brino'ing: to those the eternal Crown Slain in the momentary strife. BATTLE PRIESTS 77 How beautiful the feet that go Where the shell shocks the unshielded line ! Soothing the soldiery's dying throe With comfortable Bread and Wine. O while the legions crash and reel, Triumphant hear them name the Name, Breathing the living Words that steal Like music through the burning frame. Death threats them on the echoing ground And from the riven air above, What time the warrior hears the sound Cer volleying peal of Heaven's love. 78 BATTLE PRIESTS Death beats their faces with his breath, Mocks them with discord of the strife ; But not for them the fear of death Who are the messengers of Life. Theirs not to win the flaming height With crimson lance and smoking sword, Yet are they victors in the fight Led by their great Man-Loving Lord ; And to the peaceful skies above, Up from the torn and twisted sod, AVing the white souls they loose with love To testify the deed to God. THE GOOD SAMARITANS Where Britannia's flag is streaming, Where the shot and shell are screaming, Where the British brave are dying. Where the Empire's dead are lying Pass the sons of Asian skies ; In their hands no shield they carry, With no lance the foe they harry, But amid the crashing tourney With a laden litter journey. And the light within their eyes 80 THE GOOD SAMARITANS Would be understood, my brother, By the tenderest English mother. Not at Rajah's beck they render To our Wounded care so tender ; Not for them in England's story Battle's splendid pomp and glory, Hallowed by eternal Fame ; But, the love of Queen inspiring, Never fearing, never tiring, Of the battle's burden sharers. Pass the silent Indian bearers Through the circling fire of flame — Doers of a humble duty Christ hath lit with radiant beauty. THE GOOD SAMARITANS 81 English mother, arms out-reaching, On thy knees High God beseeching- Succour for thy valiant son, There are they who tend and cherish Him that kills thee if he perish — Hast thou, hast thou said, " AVell done " ? R.A.M.C. [" It is most necessary here to say a word in praise of the Royal Army Medical Corps, who faced a hot fire all day long, going close up to the firing line to bring back our wounded. It seems almost incredible that during the day five hundred wounded men should have been brought back by the Medical Corps, though to get them back stretcher-bearers and searchers had to cross and re-cross a zone of fire at least a mile wide." — War Correspondent of the Morning Post at Magersfontein.] He marches with the rest of us, he swaggers all the way, His step ain't right, but his boots is bright, and he draws a soldier's pay, R.A.M.C. 83 He wears a kit of a perfect fit, and his figure is just the one To go ahead when the ranks outspread and the bayonefs red on the gun ; But when it's " Charge ! " he stays behind — he doesn't swarm no kop — But don't you think that his morning drink is a basin o' dribbHn' sop, He doesn't shy when the shots whizz by, nor he doesn't shake when a shell Splits over his head, and his friend falls dead who was sound as a bloomin' bell. Look at the doctor ! We don't look at him. Not till a bone's disarranged in a limb ; What he is doino; ain't nothing; to us. What he is thinking, now, who cares a cuss ? 84 . R.A.M.C. We must go fighting, and he must stand still, Bust all the doctors until a chap's ill ! But when our leg is broke in half, and, truth, we must go sick, He joins the strife with his long lean knife, and cuts at the wounded quick, His words are short, but you can't pay court to one, of a hundred such, And we don't grouse when he wastes his nous on some of them groaning Dutch ; O his hand it kind o' soothes the pain, when the eyes see only red. He stays behind, but he stays to bind a regular splitting head, And if we die of our scratches, why, it isn't his bloomin' fault R.A.M.C. 85 Who stays behind (which is very kind) while we carry the hot assault. Go for the doctor, and mind where you tread. Tell him Fm feeling that bad in my head, Tell him the pills as IVe swallowed ain't good, Tell him Tve lost lots o' flesh, likewise blood, Go for the doctor, and tell him come quick, Fetch up old Sawbones, a Tommy's gone sick. In barracks, morning stables done, on Saturday he comes, We have to show our chests in a row, and he looks between our thumbs, We don't go sick for a horse's kick, but a bite when you're bending down 86 R.A.M.C. ^Vill make you feel as youVe