Books: Hira Singh
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Talbot Mundy >> Hira Singh
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They began to make ready there and then, and while they packed the
knapsacks I urged them to shout and laugh as if growing mutinous.
Soldiers, unless prevented, load themselves like pack animals with a
hundred unnecessary things, but none of us had more than the full
kit for each man that the Germans had served out, so that packing
took no time at all. An hour after we were ready came Ranjoor Singh,
standing in the door of our quarters with that senior German officer
beside him, both of them scowling at us, and the German making more
than a little show of possessing a repeating pistol. So that Gooja
Singh made great to-do about military compliments, rebuking several
troopers in loud tones for not standing quickly to attention, and
shouting to me to be more strict. I let him have his say.
Angrily as a gathering thunder-storm Ranjoor Singh ordered us to
fall in, and we scrambled out through the doorway like a pack of
hunting hounds released. No word was spoken to us by way of
explanation, Ranjoor Singh continuing to scowl with folded arms
while the German officer went back to look the quarters over,
perhaps to see whether we had done damage, or perhaps to make
certain nothing had been left. He came out in a minute or two and
then we were marched out of the barrack in the dimming light, with
Tugendheim in full marching order falling into step behind us and
the senior German officer smoking a cigar beside Ranjoor Singh. A
Kurdish soldier carried Tugendheim's bag of belongings, and
Tugendheim kicked him savagely when he dropped it in a pool of mud.
I thought the Kurd would knife him, but he refrained.
I think I have said, sahib, that the weather was vile. We were glad
of our overcoats. As we marched along the winding road downhill we
kept catching glimpses of the water-front through driving rain,
light after light appearing as the twilight gathered. Nobody noticed
us. There seemed to be no one in the streets, and small wonder!
Before we were half-way down toward the water there began to be a
very great noise of firing, of big and little cannon and rifles.
There began to be shouting, and men ran back and forth below us. I
asked Tugendheim what it all might mean, and he said probably a
British submarine had shown itself. I whispered that to the nearest
men and they passed the word along. Great contentment grew among us,
none caring after that for rain and mud. That was the nearest we had
been to friends in oh how many months--if it truly were a British
submarine!
We reached the water-front presently and were brought to a halt in
exactly the place where Ranjoor Singh had halted us those five times
on the day we tramped the streets. We faced a dock that had been
vacant two days ago, but where now a little steamer lay moored with
ropes, smoke coming from its funnel. There was no other sign of
life, but when the German officer shouted about a dozen times the
Turkish captain came ashore, wrapped in a great shawl, and spoke to
him.
While they two spoke I asked Ranjoor Singh whether that truly had
been a British submarine, and he nodded; but he was not able to tell
me whether or not it had been hit by gun-fire. Some of the men
overheard, and although we all knew that our course to Gallipoli
would be the more hazardous in that event we all prayed that the
artillery might have missed. Fear comes and goes, but a man's love
lives in him.
When the Turkish captain and the German officer finished speaking,
the Turk went back to his steamer without any apparent pleasure, and
we were marched up the gangway after him. It was pitch-dark by that
time and the only light was that of a lantern by which the German
officer stood, eying us one by one as we passed. Tugendheim came
last, and he talked with Tugendheim for several minutes. Then he
went away, but presently returned with, I should say, half a company
of Kurdish soldiers, whom he posted all about the dock. Then he
departed finally, with a wave of his cigar, as much as to say that
sheet of the ledger had been balanced.
It was a miserable steamer, sahib. We stood about on iron decks and
grew hungry. There were no awnings--nothing but the superstructure
of the bridge, and, although there were but two-hundred-and-thirty-
four of us, including Tugendheim, we could not stow ourselves so
that all could be sheltered from the rain and let the mud cake dry
on our legs and feet. There was a little cabin that Tugendheim took
for himself, but Ranjoor Singh remained with us on deck. He stood in
the rain by the gangway, looking first at one thing, then at
another. I watched him.
Presently he went to the door of the engine-room, opened it, and
looked through. I was about to look, too, but he shut it in my face.
"It is enough that they make steam?" said he; and I looked up at the
funnel and saw steam mingled with the smoke. In a little wheel-house
on the bridge the Turkish captain sat on a shelf, wrapped in his
shawl, smoking a great pipe, and his mate, who was also a Turk, sat
beside him staring at the sky. I asked Ranjoor Singh whether we
might expect to have the whole ship to ourselves. Said I, "It would
not be difficult to overpower those two Turks and their small crew
and make them do our bidding!" But he answered that a regiment of
Kurds was expected to keep us company at dawn. Then he went up to
the bridge to have word with the Turkish captain, and I went to the
ship's side to stare about. Over my shoulder I told the men about
the Kurds who were coming, and they were not pleased.
Peering into the dark and wondering that so great a city as Stamboul
should show so few lights, I observed the Kurdish sentinels posted
about the dock.
"Those are to prevent us from going ashore until their friends
come!" said I, and they snarled at me like angry wolves.
"We could easily rush ashore and bayonet every one of them!" said
Gooja Singh.
But not a man would have gone ashore again for a commission in the
German army. Gallipoli was written in their hearts. Yet I could
think of a hundred thousand chances still that might prevent our
joining our friends the British in Gallipoli. Nor was I sure in my
own mind that Ranjoor Singh intended we should try. I was sure only
of his good faith, and content to wait developments.
Though the lights of the city were few and very far between, so many
search-lights played back and forth above the water that there
seemed a hundred of them. I judged it impossible for the smallest
boat to pass unseen and I wondered whether it was difficult or easy
to shoot with great guns by aid of search-lights, remembering what
strange tricks light can play with a gunner's eyes. Mist, too, kept
rising off the water to add confusion.
While I reflected in that manner, thinking that the shadow of every
wave and the side of every boat might be a submarine, Ranjoor Singh
came down from the bridge and stood beside me.
"I have seen what I have seen!" said he. "Listen! Obey! And give me
no back answers!"
"Sahib," said I, "I am thy man!" But he answered nothing to that.
"Pick the four most dependable men," he said, "and bid them enter
that cabin and gag and bind Tugendheim. Bid them make no noise and
see to it that he makes none, but let them do him no injury, for we
shall need him presently! When that is done, come back to me here!"
So I left him at once, he standing as I had done, staring at the
water, although I thought perhaps there was more purpose in his gaze
than there had been in mine.
I chose four men and led them aside, they greatly wondering.
"There is work to be done," said I, "that calls for true ones!"
"Such men be we!" said all four together.
"That is why I picked you from among the rest!" said I, and they
were well pleased at that. Then I gave them their orders.
"Who bids us do this?" they demanded.
"I!" said I. "Bind and gag Tugendheim, and we have Ranjoor Singh
committed. He gave the order, and I bid you obey it! How can he be
false to us and true to the Germans, with a gagged German prisoner
on his hands?"
They saw the point of that. "But what if we are discovered too
soon?" said they.
"What if we are sunk before dawn by a British submarine!" said I.
"We will swim when we find ourselves in water! For the present, bind
and gag Tugendheim!"
So they went and stalked Tugendheim, the German, who had been
drinking from a little pocket flask. He was drowsing in a chair in
the cabin, with his hands deep down in his overcoat pockets and his
helmet over his eyes. Within three minutes I was back at Ranjoor
Singh's side.
"The four stand guard over him!" said I.
"Very good!" said he. "That was well done! Now do a greater thing."
My heart burned, sahib, for I had once dared doubt him, yet all he
had to say to me was, "Well done! Now do a greater thing!" If he had
cursed me a little for my earlier unbelief I might have felt less
ashamed!
"Go to the men," said he, "and bid those who wish the British well
to put all the money they received this morning into a cloth. Bid
those who are no longer true to the British to keep their money.
When the money is all in the cloth, bring it here to me."
"But what if they refuse?" said I.
"Do YOU refuse?" he asked.
"Nay!" said I. "Nay, sahib!"
"Then why judge them?" said he. So I went.
Can the sahib imagine it? Two-hundred-and-three-and-thirty men,
including non-commissioned officers, wet and muddy in the dark,
beginning to be hungry, all asked at once to hand over all their pay
if they be true men, but told to keep it if they be traitors!
No man answered a word, although their eyes burned up the darkness.
I called for a lantern, and a man brought one from the engine-room
door. By its light I spread out a cloth, and laid all my money on it
on the deck. The sergeant nearest me followed my example. Gooja
Singh laid down only half his money.
"Nay!" said I. "All or none! This is a test for true men! Half-true
and false be one and the same to-night!" So Gooja Singh made a wry
face and laid down the rest of his money, and the others all
followed him, not at all understanding, as indeed I myself did not
understand, but coming one at a time to me and laying all their
money on the cloth. When the last man had done I tied the four
corners of the cloth together (it was all wet with the rain and
slush on deck, and heavy with the weight of coin) and carried it to
Ranjoor Singh. (I forgot the four who stood guard over Tugendheim;
they kept their money.)
"We are all true men!" said I, dumping it beside him.
"Good!" said he. "Come!" And he took the bundle of money and
ascended the bridge ladder, bidding me wait at the foot of it for
further orders. I stood there two hours without another sign of him,
although I heard voices in the wheel-house.
Now the men grew restless. Reflection without action made them begin
to doubt the wisdom of surrendering all their money at a word. They
began to want to know the why and wherefore of the business, and I
was unable to tell them.
"Wait and see!" said I, but that only exasperated them, and some
began to raise their voices in anger. So I felt urged to invent a
reason, hoping to explain it away afterward should I be wrong. But
as it turned out I guessed at least a little part of Ranjoor Singh's
great plan and so achieved great credit that was useful later,
although at the time I felt myself losing favor with them.
"Ranjoor Singh will bribe the captain of the ship to steam away
before that regiment of Kurds can come on board," said I. "So we
shall have the ship at our mercy, provided we make no mistakes."
That did not satisfy them, but it gave them something new to think
about, and they settled down to wait in silence, as many as could
crowding their backs against the deck-house and the rest suffering
in the rain. I would rather have heard them whispering, because I
judged the silence to be due to low spirits. I knew of nothing more
to say to encourage them, and after a time their depression began to
affect me also. Rather than watch them, I watched the water, and
more than once I saw something I did not recognize, that
nevertheless caused my skin to tingle and my breath to come in
jerks. Sikh eyes are keen.
It was perhaps two hours before midnight when the long spell of
firing along the water-front began and I knew that my eyes and the
dark had not deceived me. All the search-lights suddenly swept
together to one point and shone on the top-side of a submarine--or
at least on the water thrown up by its top-side. Only two masts and
a thing like a tower were visible, and the plunging shells threw
water over those obscuring them every second. There was a great
explosion, whether before or after the beginning of the gun-fire I
do not remember, and a ship anchored out on the water no great
distance from us heeled over and began to sink. One search-light was
turned on the sinking ship, so that I could see hundreds of men on
her running to and fro and jumping; but all the rest of the water
was now left in darkness.
The guards who had been set to prevent our landing all ran to
another wharf to watch the gun-fire and the sinking ship, and it was
at the moment when their backs were turned that two Turkish seamen
came down from the bridge and loosed the ropes that held us to the
shore. Then our ship began to move out slowly into the darkness
without showing lights or sounding whistle. There was still no sign
of Ranjoor Singh, nor had I time to look for him; I was busy making
the men be still, urging, coaxing, cursing--even striking them.
"Are we off to Gallipoli?" they asked.
"We are off to where a true man may remember the salt!" said I,
knowing no more than they.
I know of nothing more confusing to a landsman, sahib, than a
crowded harbor at night. The many search-lights all quivering and
shifting in the one direction only made confusion worse and we had
not been moving two minutes when I no longer knew north from south
or east from west. I looked up, to try to judge by the stars. I had
actually forgotten it was raining. The rain came down in sheets and
overhead the sky began at little more than arm's length! Judge,
then, my excitement.
We passed very close to several small steamers that may have been
war-ships, but I think they were merchant ships converted into
gunboats to hunt submarines. I think, too, that in the darkness they
mistook us for another of the same sort, for, although we almost
collided with two of them, they neither fired on us nor challenged.
We steamed straight past them, beginning to gain speed as the last
one fell away behind.
Does the sahib remember whether the passage from Stamboul into the
Sea of Marmora runs south or east or west? Neither could I remember,
although at another time I could have drawn a map of it, having
studied such things. But memory plays us strange tricks, and
cavalrymen were never intended to maneuver in a ship! Ranjoor Singh,
up in the wheel-house, had a map--a good map, that he had stolen
from the German officers--but I did not know that until later. I
stood with both hands holding the rails of the bridge ladder
wondering whether gunfire or submarine would sink us and urging the
men to keep their heads below the bulwark lest a search-light find
us and the number of heads cause suspicion.
I have often tried to remember just how many hours we steamed from
Stamboul, yet I have no idea to this day beyond that the voyage was
ended before dawn. It was all unexpected--we were too excited, and
too fearful for our skins to recall the passage of hours. It was
darker than I have ever known night to be, and the short waves that
made our ship pitch unevenly were growing steeper every minute, when
Ranjoor Singh came at last to the head of the ladder and shouted for
me. I went to him up the steps, holding to each rail for dear life.
"Take twenty men," he ordered, "and uncover the forward hatch. Throw
the hatch coverings overboard. The hold is full of cartridges. Bring
up some boxes and break them open. Distribute two hundred rounds to
every man, and throw the empty boxes overboard. Then get up twenty
more boxes and place them close together, in readiness to take with
us when we leave the ship. Let me know when that is all done."
So I took twenty men and we obeyed him. Two hundred rounds of
cartridges a man made a heavy extra load and the troopers grumbled.
"Can we swim with these?" they demanded.
"Who knows until he has tried?" said I.
"How far may we have to march with such an extra weight?" said they.
"Who knows!" said I, counting out two hundred more to another man.
"But the man," I said, "who lacks one cartridge of the full count
when I come to inspect shall be put to the test whether he can swim
at all!"
Some of them had begun to throw half of their two hundred into the
water, but after I said that they discontinued, and I noticed that
those who had so done came back for more cartridges, pretending that
my count had been short. So I served them out more and said nothing.
There were hundreds of thousands of rounds in the hold of the ship,
and I judged we could afford to overlook the waste.
At last we set the extra twenty boxes in one place together,
slipping and falling in the process because the deck was wet and the
ship unsteady; and then I went and reported to Ranjoor Singh.
"Very good," said he. "Make the men fall in along the deck, and bid
them be ready for whatever may befall!"
"Are we near land, sahib?" said I.
"Very near!" said he.
I ran to obey him, peering into the blackness to discover land, but
I could see nothing more than the white tops of waves, and clouds
that seemed to meet the sea within a rope's length of us. Once or
twice I thought I heard surf, but the noise of the rain and of the
engines and of the waves pounding against the ship confused my ears,
so that I could not be certain.
When the men were all fallen in I went and leaned over the bulwark
to try to see better; and as I did that we ran in under a cliff, for
the darkness grew suddenly much darker. Then I surely heard surf.
Then another sound startled me, and a shock nearly threw me off my
feet. I faced about, to find twenty or thirty men sprawling their
length upon the deck, and when I had urged and helped them up the
engines had stopped turning, and steam was roaring savagely through
the funnel. The motion of the ship was different now; the front part
seemed almost still, but the behind part rose and fell jerkily.
I busied myself with the men, bullying them into silence, for I
judged it most important to be able to hear the first order that
Ranjoor Singh might give; but he gave none just yet, although I
heard a lot of talking on the bridge.
"Is this Gallipoli?" the men kept asking me in whispers.
"If it were," said I, "we should have been blown to little pieces by
the guns of both sides before now!" If I had been offered all the
world for a reward I could not have guessed our whereabouts, nor
what we were likely to do next, but I was very sure we had not
reached Gallipoli.
Presently the Turkish seamen began lowering the boats. There were
but four boats, and they made clumsy work of it, but at last all
four boats were in the water; and then Ranjoor Singh began at last
to give his orders, in a voice and with an air that brought
reassurance. No man could command, as he did who had the least
little doubt in his heart of eventual success. There is even more
conviction in a true man's voice than in his eye.
He ordered us overside eight at a time, and me in the first boat
with the first eight.
"Fall them in along the first flat place you find on shore, and wait
there for me!" said he. And I said, "Ha, sahib!" wondering as I
swung myself down a swaying rope whether my feet could ever find the
boat. But the sailors pulled the rope's lower end, and I found
myself in a moment wedged into a space into which not one more man
could have been crowded.
The waves broke over us, and there was a very evil surf, but the
distance to the shore was short and the sailors proved skilful. We
landed safely on a gravelly beach, not so very much wetter than we
had been, except for our legs (for we waded the last few yards), and
I hunted at once for a piece of level ground. Just thereabouts it
was all nearly level, so I fell my eight men in within twenty yards
of the surf, and waited. I felt tempted to throw out pickets yet
afraid not to obey implicitly. Ranjoor Singh given no order about
pickets.
I judge it took more than an hour, and it may have been two hours,
to bring all the men and the twenty boxes of cartridges ashore. At
last in three boats came the captain of the ship, and the mate, and
the engineer, and nearly all the crew. Then I grew suddenly afraid
and hot sweat burst out all over me, for by the one lantern that had
been hung from the ship's bridge rail to guide the rowers I could
see that the ship was moving! The ship's captain had climbed out of
the last boat and was standing close to it. I went up to him and
seized his shoulder.
"What dog's work is this?" said I. "Speak!" I said, shaking him,
although he could not talk any tongue that I knew--but I shook him
none-the-less until his teeth chattered, and, his arms being wrapped
in that great shawl of his, there was little he could do to prevent
me.
As I live, sahib, on the word of a Sikh I swear that not even in
that instant did I doubt Ranjoor Singh. I believed that the Turkish
captain might have stabbed him, or that Tugendheim might have played
some trick. But not so the men. They saw the lantern receding and
receding, dancing with the motion of the ship, and they believed
themselves deserted.
"Quick! Fire on him!" shouted some one. "Let him not escape! Kill
him before he is out of range!"
I never knew which trooper it was who raised that cry, although I
went to some trouble to discover afterward. But I heard Gooja Singh
laugh like a hyena; and I heard the click of cartridges being thrust
into magazines. I was half minded to let them shoot, hoping they
might hit Tugendheim. But the Turk freed his arms at last, and began
struggling.
"Look!" he said to me in English. "VOILA!" said he in French.
"REGARDEZ! Look--see!"
I did look, and I saw enough to make me make swift decision. The
light was nearer to the water--quite a lot nearer. I flung myself on
the nearest trooper, whose rifle was already raised, and taken by
surprise he loosed his weapon. With it I beat the next ten men's
rifles down, and they clattered on the beach. That made the others
pause and look at me.
"The man who fires the first shot dies!" said I, striving to make
the breath come evenly between my teeth for sake of dignity, yet
with none too great success. But in the principal matter I was
successful, for they left their alignment and clustered round to
argue with me. At that I refused to have speech with them until they
should have fallen in again, as befitted soldiers. Falling in took
time, especially as they did it sulkily; and when the noise of
shifting feet was finished I heard oars thumping in the oar-locks.
A boat grounded amid the surf, and Ranjoor Singh jumped out of it,
followed by Tugendheim and his four guards. The boat's crew leaped
into the water and hauled the boat high and dry, and as they did
that I saw the ship's lantern disappear altogether.
Ranjoor Singh went straight to the Turkish captain. "Your money,"
said he, speaking in English slowly--I wonder, sahib, oh, I have
wondered a thousand times in what medley of tongues strange to all
of them they had done their bargaining!--"Your money," said he, "is
in the boat in which I came. Take it, and take your men, and go!"
The captain and his crew said nothing, but got into the boats and
pushed away. One of the boats was overturned in the surf, and there
they left it, the sailors scrambling into the other boats. They were
out of sight and sound in two minutes. Then Ranjoor Singh turned to
me.
"Send and gather fire-wood!" he ordered.
"Where shall dry wood be in all this rain?" said I.
"Search!" said he.
"Sahib," said I, "a fire would only betray our whereabouts."
"Are you deaf?" said he.
"Nay!" I said.
"Then obey!" said he. So I took twenty men, and we went stumbling
through rain and darkness, hunting for what none of us believed was
anywhere. Yet within fifteen minutes we found a hut whose roof was
intact, and therefore whose floor and inner parts were dry enough.
It was a little hut, of the length of perhaps the height of four
men, and the breadth of the height of three--a man and a half high
from floor to roof-beam. It was unoccupied, but there was straw at
one end--dry straw, on which doubtless guards had slept. I left the
men standing there and went and told Ranjoor Singh.
I found him talking to the lined up men in no gentle manner. As I
drew nearer I heard him say the word "Wassmuss." Then I heard a
trooper ask him, "Where are we?" And he answered, "Ye stand on
Asia!" That was the first intimation I received that we were in
Asia, and I felt suddenly lonely, for Asia is wondrously big, sahib.
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