October 4, 1917 
LAND & WATER 
i7 
toniissit.sir. Let's see, sir, where be you g<ring, sir ? Rideau . 
W ell.' then, vou'll have to change at Lillecoiirt." 
■' Hut-the"R.T.O. told me to change at l.angeais." 
"Oh no, sir, no. Lillecourt. It's much nearer. 'Ere 
Rill," hesliouted toa perspiring orderly,- "what be the.nearest 
place for Kideaii ? " 
" Oh ah, should think as 'ow Millemont were," replied 
Bill, without lookingup from the floor-board he was scrubbing. 
" Or else Fleurville. One of the two. any'ow ! " 
■ Mr. Ferguson looked at the Sergeant hopelessly: 
" Well, where am 1 to get out ? 
" Can't sav as 'ow it matters much, sir. They all be close 
enough awav. 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 nijie. 
>ranfully he shouldered his valise on to an o{)en 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.\i)ectation 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. 
After shivering for the space of some forty minutes in an 
open truck, Mr. Ferguson and his valise were deposited at 
l.angeais. 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 search 
of Rideau. There seemed little enough difficulty about that. 
F>ervone appeared to know all about it. " Oh yes, it was 
iust down the main road ; less than two kilometres ; twenty 
minutes' walk at the out.side." 
With hope burning high within him 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 l>een driven from some 
months back, and there remained of it nothing but broken 
walls, and leaning arches. In the dark, it presented an 
appearance of complete and utter desolation. There were 
no signs of life. Mr. I'erguson had thought that, as soon 
as he reached Rideau. his odyssey would be completed. He 
now learnt that it had only just begun. 
Of the 305th 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 beneath 
a particularly dilapidated outhouj>e. \\ ith hope reborn, he 
beat on the door and pushed it op)en. 
It was the quarters of the regimental S.-M. of the — shire 
Regiment. 
" I say, do vouknow where the 305th M.G. Company are ? " 
"No. sir."" 
" \\ ell, look here : can I see any af 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 every new army officer who 
cliose to walk in. It was out of order. 
" I'm sorry sir, it can't be done." 
" But look here : I mean — can't I see the adjutant or some- 
one ? " 
" It can't lx> donij^ sir, it can't be done," replied the S.^L 
firmlv, and Mr; Ferguson, realising that he could gather 
nothing from this relic of reaction, turned dismally to the 
dest-rted street. 
A little way further down he saw anotlier light. Here he 
found a large crowd of gunners i)laving cards. " No, they 
difin't know nothing about no Machine Guns, but Bill at the 
cookhouse 'e might know summat : 'is brother was a machine 
.iLCunner." 
Not ver\' hopefullv now. i\fr. 1-erguson sought the cook- 
house. " "So," said Bill. " i don't know where thev could 
be. Mv brother 'e's in the Ji.'jrd ; but they're in England 
still. 1 dunno I'm sure, but the corporal of the gas guard 
might tell 'e ; 'e do know more than 1 do about these things." 
But the corporal o( the gas guard was equally vague. 
He thought there were ^onu- machine gun-; somewhere in 
Rideau ; but where thev were he didn't know . Mr. IVrguson 
thanked him with frigid gratitude, and passed out to wander 
lia<;kwards and forwari, seeking a chimera. Once he met 
a mounted captain, who a.*sured him that he would find 
Brigade Headquarters second on the right, and third to the 
left, and that they would be able to tell him there for certain. 
But it was not very helpful information,, for in the dark it 
was impossible to tell the difference between a track, a dis- 
used tradesman's entrance, and a gap between two battered 
houses. So, after following 'innumerable blind alleys and 
tripping over countless wires, he was unable to discover 
the point from which he had started, so that " second on the 
right and third on the left " became as useful a guide as longi- 
tudinal liearings would be to a mariner without a compass. 
But a limit is set to the longest pilgrimage. At last even 
the most weather-beaten Ulysses sees the white crags of his 
long-loved Ithaca. .\nd so'to the weary officer there came 
shortly after one o'clock the well-known pop-pop-pop of the 
Vickers gun. Eagerly he hurried in the directit)n of the 
sound. A few minutes' walk brought him to the emplace- 
ment, and the sentry indicated the Company Headquarters 
dugout that loomed a few yards up the road. 
At last he would be able to get some food and a bed and 
sleep. He marched smartly into the dug-out. RecolVcting 
quickly all he had been taught at his cadet battalion about 
reporting himself at his unit, he clicked his spurs and lieel.s 
together, gave the regulation salute, and rapped out : . 
" Second- Lieutenant l-'erguson, sir, reporting for duty." 
The Captain looked at him, half in surprise, half in amuse- 
ment. . . 
" \\ hat company are you reporting to ? 
" The 305th Machine Gun Company, sir 
The Captain laughed. 
" Sav, old son, this is the wrong place. 
he said at last. 
Your crowd have 
pone, up north. We relieved them here last night ! " 
R.N.V.R. 
By N. M. F. Corbf.tt. 
WHEN it is ended how shall I return 
And gather up the ravelled threads again 
Of my past life — content once more to earn 
My daily bread in drudgery and pain ? 
I — that have been one of the fellowship 
Of those who dare the danger? of the sea 
And known the lift and swing of a big ship 
Surging, full-powered, to action under me, 
I — that have 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 fire : 
These have I known and I have found thes> good. 
Can I to any lesser heights aspire ? 
I — that have seen .Aurora's pallid spears 
Defiantly shaken in the face of Heav'n 
And felt that thrill of Ijeauty, close to tears. 
That flowers deep in the heart when, low at even. 
Out of the Western sky of palest green 
When all the sea is hushed and tremulous. 
That first bright star gleams forth pure, pale, serene, 
Touching the waves with silver — Hesperue 
I — that have seen God's fingers paint the dawn 
In bars of rose and flame upon the East 
And watched the night-mists as a veil withdrawn 
Fretted with gold and pearl and amethyst. 
L -that have seen the hill-high, smoking surge. 
Burst at our bows in rainbow-tinted spray. 
And heard the taut shrouds moaning like a dirge. 
Can I go back to smoky towns and grey ? 
With dirtv streets ajid' 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 1 hear the whisper as the bow- 
Shears deep int(j the phosphorescent sea 
And, lifting, drijw pale fire and green. Oh lio\* 
Can life be ever as before to me ? 
.And will your kiss delight me as of old 
Whose lips lui\e felt the sea's salt, fierce caress, 
Cjh, shall 1 lind \our love-making grown cold 
And weari'iome \(iur talk and tenderness ? 
And long and long for the grey, open sea 
And the untainted wind upon my mouth. 
To know again the infinite, deep peace 
Healing my soul like cool rain after drouth. 
