“Come and have a look-see. It’s worth while. Reminds me of a stampede in South Africa.” Peter had never known Bromley speak so crisply.
They pashed back to the lines; found confusion indescribable. Mosely had by now got his company into some sort of order; they stood there, dripping and shivering, faces white under the big flare, unlaced boots flopping as they stamped on the lime-washed slime: but Simcox’s lines looked as if a tornado had struck them. Tents lay in writhing coils; from under them, men crawled, mud-soaked and cursing; the stockbroker, in gum-boots and pyjamas, a “British Warm” coat to complete the costume, alternately damned their eyes and adjured them to “buck up”; his subalterns scuttered about, still half asleep, laughing and quite useless. “C” were already away, making for the railway-station. Peter heard Bareton’s high voice shepherding them, “Don’t straggle there. Keep together,” and a man in the rear four grousing, “Bloomin’ fine weather for ducks. . . .”
“But what’s happened to us?” he asked Bromley—for “B” Company’s tents stood dark and deserted.
Bromley chuckled: “Oh, they don’t catch me that way, P.J. Our men are all tucked up comfy round a big stove in the Schoolhouse. I saw this coming at about half-past eight: so I sent Gladeney to find a good billet; routed the chaps out; posted a sentry to tell the leave-men where to make for. . . . And we slacked our tent-ropes when the rain started.”
“Why didn’t you warn the others?”
“I did; but they wouldn’t listen. I’m a quiet old stick, I am.” He chuckled again, with all the “old soldier’s” delight at having scored off his colleagues.
Far away, on the high road, they heard the roar of a car; saw the glare of a single headlight; watched it nosing for the Camp gates.
“That’s our friend the Adjutant,” commented Bromley, “back from one of his little jaunts to Brighton.”
The engine stopped; the headlight was cut off. A minute or two later, Locksley-Jones’ bow-legged figure came waddling towards them. Bromley flashed the torch in his face; and they saw his puffy eyes flinch as the light struck them.
“Who are you?” he called.