The battery was on top of a large flat hill, and the guns were not yet properly dug in. Gangs of men were shovelling hard as we arrived, and others were dragging behind them masses of bushes for covering the guns from aircraft observation. Everyone worked at top speed; but even so, I could see they would never get matters finished by daybreak. Sands began to lead me over a stretch of waste country, the usual waste land in fact—stunted bushes and coarse grasses, and here and there young flowers springing up. Countless exploded Turkish shells lay among the grasses; and in frequent places the turf was torn up by the heavy fire which swept there from time to time. This must have been the place Sands had in his mind when he prophesied our destruction at dawn. But morning had broken quietly with the old roll of musketry and nothing more.
My gallant guide appeared to have lost his bearings again, for he kept no direct course. Once we passed a dead infantryman among the grasses. The body had been overlooked, and was fast decaying in the fierce suns, and the morning air was tainted for yards around. I was glad to get by. Sands looked long and hard at the unpleasant sight; but he made no comment. Presently I found we had come to the head of the gully we started to ascend earlier in the morning. “Here we are,” Sands said, coming to a halt. “The drum is somewhere down there,” and he waved his hand about the horizon. I looked down and realised the dance he had led me.
The country was difficult, but daylight helped us to find the best tracks. We stood a minute or two planning the descent down the ravines, and looking for the best passages through the tangled undergrowth. Presently forward we went, slipping and sliding a great part of the way. There were times even when progress was made by climbing down rather than by walking. Well, on we went, sliding and slipping and scraping our shins, and then, as suddenly as we had come upon the gun tracks, we came across the drum. I was ready for Sands to say he knew it had been there all the time; but he was occupied finding breath and made no remark. We rested a little while with the fresh breezes moving about us. Daylight had found a way into every recess; and one or two venturesome insects were abroad already, and one or two birds were singing. Here and here, in ones, twos, in threes, were the rude graves of fallen soldiers. A couple of twigs bound to form a cross marked one, a piece of board with date and initials a second, an upright rifle a third. Already the dwarf hollies were closing round them: already the stunted laurels were bending over them.
Then began the climb back. It had been difficult before, and the drum nearly settled matters. However, on the way we found an easier if longer track, and half up the hill the wire on the big drum ended, and we used the hand-reel for the remainder of the distance.
It did not take so long then, though we stopped at all the tallest bushes and tied the wire to them. A Battery observing station was deserted on our arrival, and we fastened the wire to the ’phone and came away.
While we passed the open space on the hilltop for the third time, and as I had just muttered thanks for the morning calm, there came a whizz and a bang right overhead. A puff of smoke curled away in the high sky. The shell had missed us by a few yards. Sands stopped, and I knew at once he was going to say something worthy of himself.
“You know, Lake, I am very disappointed we came here. I wanted to see a real battle. This is only a sniping expedition.”
I said not a word. Farther on he stopped to adjust the wire. He took it in his hand and began bounding into the air in an attempt to throw it over the top of a high shrub. I went up to him, but was waved off. “You can go on, Lake, and get some breakfast. I shall follow in a minute or two.”
I sauntered on, expecting him to overtake me very soon. A wall of cliff rose in front, and just there the platform bent abruptly round it. I strolled to the end of the path and turned the corner, and came in full view of the ocean.
Last shadows had gone, nor did a star remain in the sky; and the thousand pure lights of the young morning fell about the ocean in cascades of silver and blue. All over the place small glad waves were bobbing—wavelets of silver, wavelets of azure; and on the broad bosom of those radiant seas rode the noblest fleet that ever had sailed that way. Ships of war were there, and ships which had grown ancient in piping days of peace: leviathan and cockleshell waiting alike the call of morning.