[A PROLOGUE BY PADRE MONTY]
BOOK I: FIVE GAY YEARS OF SCHOOL
Part I: Tidal Reaches
I[RUPERT RAY BEGINS HIS STORY]
II[RUPERT OPENS A GREAT WAR]
III[AWFUL ROUT OF RAY]
IV[THE PREFECTS GO OVER TO THE ENEMY]
V[CHEATING]
VI[AN INTERLUDE]
Part II: Long, Long Thoughts
VII[CAUGHT ON THE BEATEN TRACK]
VIII[THE FREEDHAM REVELATIONS]
IX[WATERLOO OPENS]
X[WATERLOO CONTINUES: THE CHARGE AT THE END OF THE DAY]
XI[THE GREAT MATCH]
XII[CASTLES AND BRICK-DUST]
BOOK II: AND THE REST—WAR
Part I: "Rangoon" Nights
I[THE ETERNAL WATERWAY]
II[PADRE MONTY AND MAJOR HARDY COME ABOARD]
III["C. OF E., NOW AND ALWAYS"]
IV[THE VIGIL]
V[PENANCE]
VI[MAJOR HARDY AND PADRE MONTY FINISH THE VOYAGE]
Part II: The White Heights
VII[MUDROS, IN THE ISLE OF LEMNOS]
VIII[THE GREEN ROOM]
IX[PROCEEDING FORTHWITH TO GALLIPOLI]
X[SUVLA AND HELLES AT LAST]
XI[AN ATMOSPHERE OF SHOCKS AND SUDDEN DEATH]
XII[SACRED TO WHITE]
XIII["LIVE DEEP, AND LET THE LESSER THINGS LIVE LONG"]
XIV[THE NINETEENTH OF DECEMBER]
XV[TRANSIT]
XVI[THE HOURS BEFORE THE END]
XVII[THE END OF GALLIPOLI]
XVIII[THE END OF RUPERT'S STORY]

TELL ENGLAND

[!-- H2 anchor --]

A PROLOGUE BY PADRE MONTY

§1

In the year that the Colonel died he took little Rupert to see the swallows fly away. I can find no better beginning than that.

When there devolved upon me as a labour of love the editing of Rupert Ray's book, "Tell England," I carried the manuscript into my room one bright autumn afternoon, and read it during the fall of a soft evening, till the light failed, and my eyes burned with the strain of reading in the dark. I could hardly leave his ingenuous tale to rise and turn on the gas. Nor, perhaps, did I want such artificial brightness. There are times when one prefers the twilight. Doubtless the tale held me fascinated because it revealed the schooldays of those boys whom I met in their young manhood, and told afresh that wild old Gallipoli adventure which I shared with them. Though, sadly enough, I take Heaven to witness that I was not the idealised creature whom Rupert portrays. God bless them, how these boys will idealise us!

Then again, as Rupert tells you, it was I who suggested to him the writing of his story. And well I recall how he demurred, asking:

"But what am I to write about?" For he was always diffident and unconscious of his power.