Without speaking another word, he staggered blindly out of the house. Nancy heard him close the front door behind him, and then, throwing herself into a chair, sobbed as though her heart would break.
CHAPTER VIII
For the next few days St. Ia was completely under the influence of the war fever. Although we have only about three thousand inhabitants, three hundred of our men belonging to the Naval Reserve left in one day, while many who were away in their fishing-boats were expected to join their vessels as soon as they could return home. Young territorials left the neighbourhood by the score, and many a lad who had previously been laughed at, when wearing his uniform, was looked upon as a kind of hero, and everywhere one turned, the only subject of conversation was the war.
Each morning at eight o'clock, the time at which our newspapers usually arrive, there was such a rush for the train, in order to obtain early copies, as I had never seen before; and presently, when the news came that an army consisting of one hundred thousand men had landed on French soil without even a hitch or casualty, we cheered wildly. Evidently our War-office machinery was in good order, and our soldiers, perhaps the best armed and equipped that ever left our shores, would, we were sure, give a good account of themselves.
Among the older and more staid people the inwardness of the situation was more and more realised. It seemed so strange that the German nation, which a few weeks before was looked upon as a nation of friends, was now spoken of as "the enemy." We held our breaths when we read of the bombardment of Liége, and cheered wildly at the thought of the brave Belgian army holding the forts against the opposing forces, and driving back the hordes of Huns with such valour. "How long will the English take to get there?" we asked again and again. "When shall we come to close grips with them?" Many a mother grew pale as she thought of her boy in the line of battle.
Presently news came of the fall of Liége and the victorious march of the Germans towards Brussels. The terror of the whole thing got hold of us, as we thought of the unfortified capital being seized by the advancing hosts of a great military Power. We troubled very little about French successes or losses in Alsace and Lorraine. We knew that the French, true to their characters, had yielded to sentiment rather than to strategy in making what seemed to us a foolish attempt to win back these provinces. Of course it was only forty-four years ago that they had been taken from them by their conquerors in the Franco-German war. We knew too that, ever since, they had been longing for revenge, longing to win back what they felt to be part of their own country. Naturally we sympathised with the French in this, and tears came to our eyes, and sobs to our throats, when we read how old Frenchmen who had been through the Franco-German war, welcomed the soldiers with wild and tumultuous joy. Nevertheless we knew that victory could not be won by sentiment, and that if the carefully trained German soldiers were to be driven back, there must be strategy on our side equal to theirs, and that the armies must be led, not only courageously, but intelligently. Thus, although we had no proof of the rumour, we rejoiced when we heard that Lord Kitchener had gone to Paris, and by his wise counsels and tremendous personality had altered the whole course of the campaign.
"He's the man!" one would say to another; "he's like the Iron Duke in Boney's time. Nerves like steel, a mind like a razor, and the heart of a lion."
Nevertheless day by day our hearts grew heavier and heavier as we read of the steady German advance towards Paris. "If the capital is taken," men said, "Isn't everything done for?" and then we weighed the pros and cons with all the wisdom of a rustic population.
Another thing added to our discomfort. The lads of Cornwall were not responding as we thought they should, to the call of their country. From all parts of England young men were coming forward, and London was enlisting volunteers at the rate of a thousand a day. Yorkshire and Lancashire proved their devotion and their loyalty. Devon, too, our sister county, more than maintained her traditions. We read how in one little village where only thirty young men lived, twenty-five of them had volunteered. "It is because our boys don't understand, don't realise what we are fighting for," said one to another; and then we heard with delight that Admiral Tresize and the Member of Parliament for St. Ia were arranging for a public meeting, at which truth should be made known.
During this time Bob Nancarrow was much alone. He seldom left the house, neither was he to be seen in any of his old favourite haunts. No one followed the fortunes of the war more closely than he. With almost feverish eagerness he read every item of news, although, by his own decision, he was an outsider. He was torn by two opposing forces. One was the love of his country and his own people, and the other was the voice of his conscience. He thought, when he happened to go into the little town, that people nudged each other significantly as he passed, and made unflattering remarks about him. As a matter of fact, however, no such thing happened. True, there were some who wondered why he remained at home, while all his schoolfellows and friends had volunteered; but many more remembered that he was the son of Dr. Nancarrow, a man who, to the time of his death, was an apostle of peace. Of course the inner circle of his acquaintances knew the truth, but they only talked of it among their own set, and thus Bob's fears were groundless.