“We sent a fellow into Bray,” I answered, “but it’s very doubtful if he’ll get any. Anyway we’ll see.”
Tea was finished. The great problem was fuel. There were no trees or houses anywhere near 71 North. We had burnt two solid planks during the day; these had been procured by the simple expedient of getting a lance-corporal to march four men to the R.E. dump, select two planks, and march them back again. But by now the planks had surely been missed, and it would be extremely risky to repeat the experiment, even after dark. So a man had been despatched to Bray to try and purchase a sack of coal; also, I had told the Mess-sergeant to try and buy one for us, and bring it up with the rations. This also was a doubtful quantity. Meanwhile, we had a great blaze going, and were making the most of it.
I was writing letters; Dixon was reading; Nicolson was seeing to the rum ration; Clark was singing, “Now Neville was a devil,” and showing his servant Brady how to “make” a hammock. Brady was a patient disciple, but his master had slept in a hammock for the first time in his life the night before and consequently was not a very clear exponent of the art. Apparently certain things that happened last night must be avoided to-night; how they were to be avoided was left to Brady’s ingenuity. Every attempt on his part to solve the problems put before him was carefully tested by Clark, and accepted or condemned according to its merit under the strain of Clark’s body. At such times of testing the strains of “Neville was a devil” would cease. At last Brady hit on some lucky adjustment, and the occupant pronounced his position to be first rate. Then Brady disappeared behind the curtain that screened the servants’ quarters, and the song proceeded uninterruptedly, “Now Neville was a devil
A perfect little devil”;
and Clark rocked himself contentedly into a state of restful slumber.
Meanwhile, behind the arras the retainers prepared their masters’ meal. This dug-out was of the “tubular” pattern, a succession of quarter circles of black iron riveted together at the top, and so forming a long tube, one end of which was bricked up and had a brick chimney with two panes of glass on each side of it; the other led into a small wooden dug-out curtained off. Here abode five servants and an orderly. I should here state that this dug-out was the most comfortable I have ever lived in; as a matter of fact it was not a dug-out at all, but being placed right under the steep bank at 71 North it was practically immune from shelling. The brick chimney and the glass window-panes were certainly almost unique: one imagined it must have been built originally by the R.E.’s for their own abode! Along the sides were four beds of wire-netting stretched over a wooden frame with a layer of empty sand-bags for mattress. In the centre was a wooden table. Over this table, in air suspended, floated Clark.
Meanwhile, as above stated, behind the arras the retainers prepared their masters’ meal, with such-like comments—
“Who’s going for rations to-night?”
“It’s Lewis’s turn to-night, and Smith’s.”
“All right, sergeant.”
“Gr-r-r” (unintelligible).
“Where’s Dodger?”