October 4, 191 7 
LAND & WaiER 
i7 
to miss it , sir. Let 's sec . sir . w here be you going, sir ? Rideau .•' 
Well, then, von'll liave to change at Liilccourt." 
" Rut the' K.T.O.' told me to change at Langcais." 
" Oh no, sir, no. Lillecourt. It's mucli nearer. 'Ere 
Rill," he shouted toa perspiring orderly, "what be the nearcbt 
place for Rideau ? 
" Oh ah, should think as 'ow Milleniont were," replied 
Bill, without looking up from the floor-board he was scrubbing. 
" Or else Fleurville. One of the two, any'ow I " 
"Mr. Ferguson looked at the Sergeant hopelessly : , 
" Well, where am I to get out '■ 
" Can't say as 'ow it matters much, sir. They all be close 
enough away. I'm for Lillecourt myself. But each man 
to 'is own opinion." 
And with this final expression of a philosophy of general 
toleration, the Sergeant left the gallant officer to sit on his 
valise, growing hungrier and hungrier every minute, as he 
watched the raindrops splash in the muddy puddles. 
The train did not arrive till ten minutes past nine. 
^Nfanfully he shouldered his valise on to an open truck, and 
climbed in after it ; cheered by the Sergeant who, having 
deceived and deserted him for upwards of two hours, arrived 
at the last moment in eager e.vpectation of largesse, with the 
useful information that on the whole he had best get out at 
Maintenant-Les-Loges. 
It is bad enough being old maid, even when the avoided 
card has got to find some eventual resting place, but when 
no one is responsible for its safe keeping, it is a game hardly 
worth playing. 
* * « * « 
.\fter shivering for llie space of some forty minutes in an 
open truck, Mr. F^erguson and his valise were deposited at 
Langcais. The valise he left in charge of a corporal in the 
K.E.'s, who assured him it would be quite safe in his hut 
(it took him two days to find it later on); and went in seavrli 
of Rideau: There seemed little enough difficulty about that. 
Everyone appeared to know all about it. " Oh yes, it was 
just down the main road : less than two kilometres ; twenty 
minutes' walk at the outside." 
With hope burning high within hini Mr. Ferguson set out. 
Soon he caught a glimpse through the gathered dusk of houses^ 
and roofs and gables. There rose before him visions of food, 
a lied, and rest. 
But the real fun had only just begun. Rideau was one 
of the villages that the Germans had* been driven from some 
months back, and there remained of it nothing but broken 
walls, pud leaning arches. In the dark, it presented an 
appearance of complete and utter desolation. There were 
no signs of life. Mr. Ferguson had thought that, as soon 
as he reached Rideau, his odyssay would be completed. He 
now learnt that it had only just begun. 
(Jf the .505th M.G. Company there were no signs. It was 
now eleven o'clock, and Mr. Ferguson was both tired and 
hungry. After twenty minutes' fruitless wandering amid the 
wreckage of Rideau, he at last saw a light glimmering Ix-neatli 
a particularly dilapidated outhouse. \\ ith hope reborn, he 
beat on the door and pushed it open. 
It was the quarters of the regimental S.-M. of the — shiie 
Regiment. 
" I say, do you know where the 305th M.C Company are ? " 
Xo, sir." i 
' Well, look here : can I see any of your officers? They 
might know." 
The S.-M. drew himself to his full height. He was an old 
regular and a guardsman. He was not used to being woken 
up in the middle of the night by everv new army officer who 
cliitsc to vvalk in. It was out of order. 
I'm sorry sir, it can't be done." 
" But look here : I mean— can't I sec the adjutant or some- 
one ? 
" It can't be done, sir, it can't be done," replied the S.M. 
firmly, and Mr. Ferguson, realising that he could gather 
notliing from this relic of reaction, turned dismally to the 
deserted -street. 
\ little way further down he saw another light. Here he 
found a large crowd of gimners playing cards. " No, thev 
didn't know nothing about no >fachino Guns, but Bill at the 
cookho>i>e 'e might know summat ; is brother was a machine 
gunner." 
Not very hopefully now. Mr. Ferguson sought the cook- 
house. " N'o," said Bill. " I don't know where they could 
be. Mv brother 'c's in the 32jrd ; but they're in England 
still. I dunno I'm sure, but the corjxiral of the gas guard 
might tell 'c ; 'c do know more than I do About these things." 
But the corjjoral of the gas guard was equally vague. 
He thought there were tome machine guns somewhere in 
Rideau ; but where they were he didn't know. ~5Ir. Ferguson 
thanked hiin with frigid gratitude, and passed out to wander 
backwards and forwari. seeking a cliimera. Once he met 
a. mounted captain, who assured him that he would lind 
Brigade Headquarters second on the right, and third to the 
left, and that they would be able to tell him there for certain. 
Rut it was not wry helpful information, for in the dark it 
was impossible to teJl the difference between a track, a dis- 
used tradesman's entrance, and a gap between two battered 
houses. So, after following innumerable blind allevs and 
tripping over coimtless wires, he was unable to discover 
the point from which he liad started, so that " second on tlic 
right and third on the left " became as useful a guide as longi- 
tudinal bearings would be to a mariner without a compass. 
But a limit is set to the longest pilgrimage. At last even 
the most weather-beaten Ulyi^ses sees the white crags of his 
long-loved Ithaca. .\nd so' to the w^ary officer there came 
shortly after one o'clock the well-known" pop-pop-pop of the 
Vickers gun. Eagerly he hurried in the direction of the 
sound. A few minutes' walk brought him to the emplace- 
ment, and the sentry indicated the Companv Headquarters 
dugout that loomed a few yards up the road. 
At last he would be able to get s<^)me food and a ])ed and 
sleep. He marched smartly into the dug-out. Recollecting 
quicklv all he had been taught at his cadet battalion about 
reporting himself at his unit, he clicked his spurs and heels 
together, gave the regulation salute, and rapped out : 
" Second- Lieutenant Ferguson, sir,, reporting for duty." 
The Captain looked at him, half in surprise, half in amuse- 
ment. 
" Whiit company arc }ou reporting to ? "Tie SJiid at last. 
" The 305th Machine Gun Company, sir."^ 
The Captain laughed. 
" Say. old son, tliis is the wrong place. Your crowd have 
gone up north. We relieved them here last night ! " 
R.N.V.R. 
BV N. M. F. CORBtTT. 
WHEN It is ended how shall I return 
And gather up the rasellcd threads again 
Of my past life — content once more to earn 
My daily bread in drudgery and pain ? 
1- that have been one of the fellow.ship 
Of those who dare the dangers of the sea 
And known the lift and swing of a big ship 
Surging, full-powered, to action under mc. 
I— that ha\e heard shells scream and seen men die 
Laughing, as if the war were but a game ; 
.And known the lust of battle ; seen the sky 
Filled, end to end, with whirling sheets of flame. 
.And felt my veins, long coursed by sluggish blood 
Now thrilled and filled with wine and molten fije : 
These ha\e I known and I have found thcm'good. 
Can I to any lesser heights a.spirc ? 
I — that have seen .Aurora's pallid sp)ears 
Defiantly shaken in the face of Heav'n . 
.And felt that thrill of beauty, close to tears, 
That flowers deep in the heart when, low at p\ea, 
Out of the Western sky of palest green 
W hen all the sea is hushed and tremulous. 
That first bright star gleams forth pure, pale, serene, 
Touching the waves with silver — Hesp«rus. 
I — that have seen God's fingers paint the dawn 
In bars of rose and flame upon the East 
.\nd watched the night-mists as a veil withdrawn . 
I'retted with gold and pearl and amethyst. 
I — that have seen the hill-high, smoking surge, 
Burst at our lx)ws in rainbow-tinted spray, 
.And heard the taut shrouds moaning like a dirge. 
Can I go back to smoky towns and grey ? 
With dirty streets and sordid offices. 
And stupid talk in trains with stupid men. 
Oh. every rustle of the dusty trees 
Will bring remembrance and regret and pain. 
I'll think I hear the whisper as the bow 
Shears deep into the phosphorescent sea 
.And, lifting, drips pale fire and green. Oh liow 
Can life be ever as before to me ? 
.And mil your kiss delight me as of .old 
Wliose lij)s have felt the sea's salt, fierce caress, 
( 111. shall I find your love-making grown cold 
.\nd wcarisouK' your talk arid tenderness ? 
.\n<l long and long for the grey, opei\ sea 
.\nd the untainted wind upon my mouth. 
To know^ again tln' infinite, deep peace 
Healing my soul hkc cool rain after drouth. 
