Chapter 8 No.8

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.

One day he was attracted by a large placard which appeared on all the public hoardings headed by the Royal Coat of Arms: "'Your King and Country Need You!' A great meeting will be held in the Public Hall on Thursday night in order to explain why this war has taken place, and why it is the duty of every man to help." It announced also that Admiral Tresize was to take the chair, while, in addition to the local Member, the meeting was to be addressed by Captain Trevanion, who was coming down from Plymouth for this purpose, just before leaving for the front.

"Of course I shan't go," said Bob to himself. "I know the reasons for the war, and I should be in utter misery if I went." Nevertheless he found himself making plans for going.

For several days Mrs. Nancarrow had been cold and uncommunicative, and he knew that a cloud of reserve hung between them. He felt that his mother despised him. He felt sure, too, that she knew all that had taken place at Penwennack-that he was henceforth to be treated, in what he had regarded as his second home, as worse than a stranger.

"There is to be a great meeting at the Public Hall to-night," said Mrs.

Nancarrow, on the day of the meeting. "Are you going?"

Bob shook his head.

"There seems to be tremendous enthusiasm about Captain Trevanion's coming down, although, of course, he is no speaker," went on Mrs. Nancarrow. "But you see, the fact of his starting for the front in a day or so, makes him of special interest. I understand that Nancy Tresize is going away as a Red Cross nurse, almost at once."

Bob's heart fluttered wildly as he heard her name.

"Captain Trevanion stayed at Penwennack last night. Naturally the

Admiral admires him more than ever. The Captain and Nancy motored to

Land's End yesterday afternoon."

Her every word was like a sword thrust into the young fellow's heart. He knew what she meant-knew too, that the Admiral had always favoured Trevanion as a suitor for his daughter. How could it be otherwise, when Trevanion was a man after the Admiral's own heart? He had showed no hesitation about the right of defending his country; rather he had throughout been enthusiastic to a degree, while Bob had hung back. Mad jealousy filled his heart as he realised what might possibly be taking place. Even then, Nancy, in her scorn for the man whom she believed to have been unworthy of her love, might be listening to the pleadings of one who was worthy.

"I expect Nancy will be at the meeting," went on Mrs. Nancarrow. "As you know, she goes almost everywhere with her father, and as the Admiral will take the chair, I expect she will be on the platform."

Bob conjured up the scene. He fancied he saw Trevanion, in his uniform, speaking in a soldier-like fashion about the duty of defending his country, the crowd cheering wildly, while Nancy, carried away by her admiration of the man who accorded with her ideals of how an Englishman should act, would yield to the gallant soldier the love for which he would give his life.

That night, with a kind of savage love for self-torture, Bob made his way to the Public Hall. He got there half an hour before the announced time, and found the place nearly full. All round the walls hung bunting, characteristic of the county. The Cornish Coat of Arms hung over the chairman's table, while the chorus of the old Cornish song:

And shall they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pen,

And shall Trelawney die?

Then twenty thousand Cornishmen

Will know the reason why.

was printed in large letters, and hung in a prominent place. At the back of the platform some one had written, "Cornwall has never failed her country yet. Shall she be unworthy of the names of Trelawney, Killigrew, Boscawen, Carew, Tresize, and Trevanion? Never!"

To Bob's chagrin he was led to a seat close to the platform. Evidently the man who took him there, wanted him, as the son of one who had been, perhaps, the most respected man in the town, to have a place of honour.

In a few minutes the audience was singing patriotic songs. It was true that there was something jingoistic about them, nevertheless Bob's heart thrilled. Perhaps there are no people in the whole country whose voices are sweeter than those of the dwellers in our most Western county. His heart caught fire as he listened. Yes, there was something in fighting for home and fatherland, something sublime in dying for a noble cause. Then again the horror of war, the brutal butchery, the senseless hatred, the welter of blood, the blighted lives and homes, arose before him. He knew that the meeting would have no message for him.

Precisely at the time announced the speakers appeared on the platform amidst a tumult of shouting, and then Bob's heart gave a great leap, for he saw that Nancy Tresize, with several other ladies, followed the old Admiral. In spite of himself his eyes were drawn towards her as if by a magnet. He tried to look away from her, but could not, and then, when he least expected it, her gaze caught his. It was only for a second, but that second plunged him into the deepest darkness. He saw the flush that mounted to her cheeks, the smile of derision that passed her lips, and the look of scorn and contempt that expressed itself on her face. He knew then what Nancy felt about him, and that he had lost her-lost her for ever.

I am not going to try to describe the speeches at length-there is no need. The Admiral spoke in a bluff, hearty way about the causes which led up to the war, and then told of the part which the county had always played, and of her great names which had gone down to history. Spoke, too, of the need of men at the present time, and then made his appeal.

After him came the Member for St. Ia. He evidently tried to speak as a statesman on the question. He was listened to respectfully, but without enthusiasm. He was little fitted to explain the intricacies of international politics. Bob felt, during the whole time he was speaking, that he did not know the A.B.C. of his subject, felt that if he had been in his place he would have made a far stronger case for the country and the cause.

Then some one got up and recited some doggerel by a London journalist which was said to be very popular in various parts of the country, but which did not appeal to our Cornish boys at all.

Up to this point the meeting could not be pronounced a success. Crowds were there, and the people were waiting to be caught on fire; but the right spark had not been struck. It only wanted a little to rouse the whole audience to white heat; the train was laid, the powder was set, but no one seemed able to ignite the match. People looked at one another doubtfully. The youths who had been expected to enlist remained cold and almost jeeringly critical. Then the Admiral called for Captain Trevanion.

A feeling of envy came into Bob's heart as the Captain rose. He was wearing his regimentals and looked a soldier, every inch of him; tall, stalwart, straight as a rule. Young and handsome, he bore proudly a name which might be found in the remotest history of his county.

"I am no speaker," he began, "and never pretend to speak; in fact, this is almost the first time that I have tried to address a meeting. I am a soldier; I start in a few days for the front, and I have only come to tell you why I am going."

There was evidence of sincerity in his words, and they were spoken in such a hearty and convincing way that they appealed to every one present. Bob felt it more than any one else. Yes, he envied him. Oh, if he could only take his place! If he could say, "I am going to the front in a few days!"

"I have been working hard, these last weeks," went on Trevanion; "drilling, drilling; training, training; preparing for the fray, and waiting and longing to, hear the command, 'Up, lads, and at them!' Thank heaven the command has at last come!"

His voice rang out clearly, and as he spoke a new light came into the eyes of many.

"And why am I going?" he cried. "Why are tens of thousands of the brave lads from all over the Empire going to France at this time? I'll tell you!"

He was not eloquent. He had no great command of language, but he stirred the hearts of the people, because he told a simple story, which, while from the standpoint of the cold critic it might appear unconvincing, was, when listened to by patriotic Englishmen, full of appeal and power.

He drew two pictures, and although he did it crudely he did it well. He described first a meeting of Cabinet Ministers in Whitehall. These men had for a long time been labouring night and day for peace, and now the final stage had come. They had sent what was in some senses an ultimatum to Germany, and they were now waiting for the answer. War and peace hung in the balance. The time was approaching midnight, and the hour when the final decision was to be made was near at hand. The question they had asked Germany was this: "Will you keep your word to Belgium, or will you violate the treaty you have signed?"

"The Belgians," said Trevanion, "had the promise of the Kaiser to maintain their country's neutrality and integrity. Was that promise to be trusted, or was it a sham and a lie? 'We Britons gave our word,' our statesmen had said, 'and, like Britons, we are going to keep it. What are you going to do? If you prove false, we are going to stand by our promise, if it cost us our last man and our last pound.

"Presently the sound of Big Ben at Westminster boomed across the city. The Germans had not replied. This meant that the Kaiser had played the traitor, that he had torn up the treaty he had signed; and thus when the last stroke of Big Ben sounded across London, the four statesmen looked at each other, and said, 'This means war.' Could they have done any other?" cried the Captain-"could they? No!"

From the hall, rose the many-throated reply, "No, by God, no!"

"Now for another picture," he went on. "It is not in London, not in Whitehall this time; it is in Germany, at Berlin. Our Ambassador there, was speaking to a representative of the German Kaiser, the mouthpiece of the German nation. 'What will you do?' asked the German. 'Surely you English will be neutral?'

"'That depends,' said the Englishman.

"'On what?' queried the German.

"'It depends whether you Germans are going to be true to the treaty you have signed, true to your plighted word.'

"'And if not?' the German asked.

"'In that case,' replied the Englishman, 'we are not going to stand by and see a little state wronged and ruined, because a great nation like Germany, who should keep her word, is playing Belgium false.'

"'Treaty,' questioned the German, 'what is a treaty? Will you go to war with us for that-just for a scrap of paper?'

"'But that scrap of paper means our nation's honour,' the Englishman said.

"'Have you counted the cost?' asked the German, thinking to frighten the Englishman.

"'We English,' replied the British Ambassador, 'are not likely to go back on our word because of fear.'

"The German left him in a passion, and the Englishman said in his heart, 'It is war.'

"Would you have had him give another answer?"

And again a mighty shout from the hall, "No, by God, no!"

"Then do your duty-help us in the fight," cried the Captain. The right note was struck now, and it had been struck by Bob's rival. Oh, how he envied him! He saw that Nancy's eyes were ablaze with joy, that she was moved to the depth of her being; and the man who had moved her to enthusiasm and admiration was the man who wanted the woman Bob loved, and whom he had lost.

"Can any Englishman," went on Captain Trevanion, "stand by after that? If he can, what is he worth? Of course he will make paltry excuses, he will say this and that and the other thing, but what are his excuses worth? I have heard of young fellows, men who have been trained in our public schools, who stand by and refuse to help; what shall we say of them? And you young chaps, healthy, strong, unmarried, without home ties, what if you refuse to respond to the call of your country? I will tell you what I think of you: you are white-livered cowards."

Again the audience cheered, and Captain Trevanion, fired by the enthusiasm he had roused, became almost eloquent. He knew he had the grip of his audience, and his words came more easily.

"I want to appeal to you girls," he went on. "Your sweethearts are sitting by you: well, a fellow who is such a coward as to refuse to fight for his country isn't worth having. Tell him so, shame him into being a man!" he cried, and his voice rang out, as though he were giving orders on parade.

"What shall we do?" shouted a voice in the hall.

"Make them feel what cowards they are. Here," and he laughed as he spoke, "I have in a basket a lot of white feathers; I think they might be of use. Any of you girls who know men who are hanging back from cowardice, just give them a white feather, and never speak to them again until they have wiped away their disgrace." He took up the basket and held it out. "There," he said, "I have finished my speech: men and women do your duty!"

As he sat down the whole meeting was in a state of wild uproarious enthusiasm.

A few minutes later the hall began to empty itself, although a number of people remained behind to discuss the situation. An old retired sergeant of seventy years of age stayed with a number of young fellows who lingered behind, and as they stood near to Bob he could hear every word that was said.

"Come, you chaps," said the sergeant, "aren't you going to be men? aren't you going to fight the Germans?"

"Why shud us?" they asked. "What 'ave we got 'ginst the Germans?"

"Would you like the Germans to conquer your country? would you like to have the Kaiser for a king?"

"Dunnaw: why shudden us?" replied one.

"Laive they that want to fight the Germans, fight 'em-we bean't goin' to," said another. "Why shud we all git killed to plaise Members of Parliament?"

"I be sheamed ov 'ee," cried an old man near; "you bean't worthy to be called Englishmen."

"Why bean't us?"

"'Cos you be cowards. Wud 'ee like to be traited like they Germans be?"

"From oal accounts they be a darned sight better on than we be," was the reply.

"Wot do 'ee main?"

"Why," laughed a young fellow, "at the last general election one of the spaikers, I doan' know who 'twas, but the one that talked Tariff Reform, zaid that the Germans was a lot better off than we be. He zaid that the Germans was fat, and that we was lean, and that the Germans had better times, shorter hours, and higher wages than we've got. Ef tha's so, we'd be a lot better off under the Germans than we be now."

"Bean't 'ee Englishmen?" cried the old man. "Bean't 'ee goin' to fight and keep 'em from England?"

"I bean't goin' over there to git killed-not me. I knaw trick worth two of that"; and then shamefacedly the whole lot of them left the hall without enlisting.

Bob's anger rose as he listened. "What mean cowards they are!" he said to himself; "I feel almost ashamed to be a Cornishman. Of course scores of our boys are playing the game like men, but these creatures make one sick." A moment later his face became crimson with shame. Was he not doing the same? Yes; his reasons were different, and of course he could have made a better case for himself than they did, but was he not a shirker just as much as they were? Then all such thoughts were driven from his mind in a second, for down the platform steps, with the evident intention of passing into the hall, came Admiral Tresize, Captain Trevanion, and several ladies, among whom was Nancy. At first he felt as if he must rush out of the hall, but his feet seemed rooted, he could not move. Captain Trevanion and Nancy came towards him.

"Now then, Nancarrow, have you enlisted yet?" asked Trevanion. "You should, as an old O.T.C. man. I find that hosts of the fellows from Clifton College have enlisted. Aren't you going to?"

Bob did not speak, he could not. He heard the sneer in the Captain's voice, saw the look of contempt on his face, and he knew why he spoke. But he could not understand why Nancy stood waiting as if with the intention of speaking to him. He knew that he cut a poor figure compared with Trevanion, and that to Nancy he must seem a slacker, a wastrel. Still he could not speak nor move. He felt that the girl's eyes were upon him, felt contempt in her every gesture, her every movement. She came up close to him.

"Aren't you going to help to uphold your country's honour?" she said, and her voice quivered with excitement. Evidently she was deeply moved.

He felt as if the room were whirling round. He thought he noted a sign of pleading in her voice, and that her eyes became softer. It seemed to him that she was giving him his last chance. He could not speak, he could only shake his head.

"Then allow me to present you with this," she went on, and she held out a white feather. "I am sure you must be proud of it, and that you will wear it honourably, especially at such a time as this."

The insult pierced his heart like a poisoned arrow. He knew that her intention was to heap upon him the greatest ignominy of which she was capable. There were not many people in the room, but there were some who must have seen her action. As for Trevanion he turned away his head with a laugh.

"Come, Captain Trevanion," said Nancy, "we must be going." She took hold of his arm, and they walked out of the hall together.

Bob made a stride forward as if to follow them. He wanted to hurl defiance at them, wanted to tell her that her action was mean and contemptible, unworthy of an Englishwoman. Wanted to-God knows what he wanted. His brain was whirling, everything seemed to be mad confusion, but he only took one step; the uselessness of it all appealed to him. What could he do, what could he say? He had made his decision, taken his stand, and must be ready to suffer.

Then he remembered what Captain Trevanion had said at the close of the golf match:

"In this field of battle you have beaten me, but in the next I shall be the conqueror."

"Yes," said Bob, and he silently made his way home. "I have lost her.

I have lost everything, but what could I do?"