"Let not that trouble thee. I have advised the Ong-quang-Ba (the Captain—literally, 'Lord of three stripes'), and these fools will open the door themselves; even as I said to him."
I turned to chide him for his presumption, but he had glided away silently into the night.
The rain had ceased now almost as suddenly as it had commenced, and the smell of the damp earth and vegetation reeked in the nostrils. Turning, I glanced behind me, and saw that towards the east the sky was grey. In a few minutes the forms of my comrades near by could be dimly distinguished. The nearest—he was barely a yard away—was a boy of twenty, an Alsatian. He was fast asleep, his head pillowed on his arm, and dreaming pleasantly, for on his lips, which bore no trace of a moustache, I could discern a smile. Fearing lest the sergeant should find him thus, I awoke him, and he thanked me.
It was now so light that a few paces away to the left I recognised our Captain, seated on the ground. He was chewing the end of an unlit cigar. In a low voice he called the sergeant, and talked for some moments to him.
Then our "non-com" came from one to the other of us and communicated the instructions he had just received. These were:
"Load, and fix bayonets as quietly as possible. Lie still until the signal is given by the Captain with his whistle, then rise at once and rush for the village gateway, and on into the houses beyond; weapons not to be used until resistance is offered; and every effort must be made to capture an enemy alive."
By looking through the foliage before us, we could now see in the yet dim light that we were close to a pond or moat, covered with rank duck-weed and lotus plants. On the other side of this was a big village, surrounded by the usual embankment and bamboo hedge. Presently we could hear the crowing of cocks, barking of dogs, and other sounds of awakening life.
The pond was crossed by a dyke about 6 feet wide, forming a path leading to the heavy gateway of the hamlet. This was yet closed.
By this time the eastern sky was a bright red violet, and against it the great leaves of the plantains, the spiky foliage of the macaw palms, and the delicate leafage of the bamboo seemed to be cut out of tinfoil, reminding me of a tropical scene from a drama staged in one of our large London theatres. The birds were out: troops of white-breasted jays scurried from tree to tree, with an uncouth cry; sparrows darted about with an endless twittering; and several carrion-crows started a concert among the areca palms inside the village. Suddenly on the horizon there was a glitter, and a convex curve of fire appeared. The mighty ball of the blinding sun rose inch by inch from the rice fields, the wet surface reflecting its light with dazzling vividness.
It was already hot, and our sodden linen grew stiffer and drier each instant.