A SOUL UNCONQUERABLE.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 267, 10 November 1928, Page 11 (Supplement)

A SOUL UNCONQUERABLE.

(By G. HA3MILTON FRASER.)

Another man I met at sea often comes i vividly before my mind. We were pas- f senger3 together aboard the 'Saucy ], Kate, that cruised along the Atlantic, a His name was Wilbur. About sixty- I : five, • perhaps, with not a spare inch of j flesh. His hair, white as ivory, s ' emphasised the dark, warm glow'of the a : face. - In -the same way, the intensely I blue eyes,' which, in a fair skin would have, appeared • nothing remarkable, j flashed forth from their sober frame in startling contrast. But the most arresting feature.of 'all was his mouth. Full of a deep pain, an ineffable sadness. Behind the lips a grief that showed the \ -more bitter for "the warm smile through ■". which it came. He ihad immense 1 vitality and'.an. alert brain. And; his ' laUsh! That, rare gurgle that sets a ' crowd rippling'from its sheer infectiousness. -. • . From what he said I gathered he had J been an officer in the English Anny. I '. found ihim stimulating company and . immensely interesting. But for the life of me I could not shake off-the impres- ' sion that there was some anguish-biting, | • scourging. That'secret pain visible in .. the peculiarly sensitive lines of the , Jnbuth? What was it? My flighty imagination. Of course it was. An incurable romanticism that more than once ihad made a pretty fool of me. Nevertheless, there was suffering in that mouth and a pitiless captivity. And for me, at least, there clung about him an element of mystery which he seemed in no way likely .to dispel. He was the aort of man you don't forget. Somehow you couldn't.- ;, One evening, a3 soft and as ex- ' auisitively, tinted as any heart could wish, we slipped into Bio Bay. I turned to Wilbur standing beside me. at the it lovely?" "Perfect," ie murmured. "Yes, it is perfect.' Good Lord, Doc," the words burst out tensely vibrant. "What damn fools men are. Look at that!" He beckoned towards the east where the glowing flowers of sunset -lingeringly curled their petals in farewell splendour. Gould anything be quite as lovely? Beauty, bom of Gors perfect artistry—to be killed by the unheeding welter of man's crude blunderin"s. What a trouble-riddled old world it Is! Artificiality saturates society as varnish saturates a. floor. Humanity is Bucked from us. Worthy self-r.ght-eousness suffocates us. International 'humbugs drench the world in. gpre, • frothing about with dribhlings of .fatuity: And above all the noise of these silly sounds, statesmen, perspiring, wreck this modern civilisation so-called, which, in reality, is hut the cruel refinement of primitive barbarism. The whispeiiU of the tall grasses, -the fragrance 4-^cleanrwmd-swept:dawns,-smothery; the stench of. clawing greed ■ .;' Durin". my acquaintance with him I tad heard, his \aews on a good many Ethics, politics, science and- so forth v. But he had:always been soself- -. contained. You were ever conscious of of truly English-dread of emotionaliMn. I -I expect' : my tell-tale face: reflected my. amazement, for he laughed self-consci- : ouslv: "Sorry.'a bit of an-avalanche— ' what? But-Lam afraid there is precious little tranquil philosophy about me tliese : days:: At times, a very devil-of revolt . Vuffuses.me: morally and - physipally. V: Sometimes I wonder if the worhl ' steDPinK a rattling dance of death. So much hysteria, blind stupidity and greed everywhere. Such tragic restlessness, Perhapi I grow morbid. But you must, have noticfd it yourself. .Everywhereand I have seen something.of the world V these last nine years-the soul branded with chaotic uncertainty-un-certainty chiefly, as to the power of .our ' Civilisation's:endurance'. s^ T ' : passionate desire for-what? , WiMly - groping, searching for-God **P+*f™-: :.they know not what they want themselves '■■ The howels of the nations spurt ; ■'■' forthvmolten streams of How ■ hah--Oh, come oh, TetV go ashore.. :• / Thati'night we were walking to and .-/:'Jro^ong:the'aft-deck. It was.swelter- % M. But for a Me ''^toave'heen-"unbearable., '.We ' a smoke?" There, was notta*4usual in Wilbur's suggestion but I was impressed by his tone, You Sow there are many shades o .tone flu, • human voice is capable of e £P r^ s ™°; And I am convinced that nothing but instant contact with. differing types; o humanity will breed a, nicety of inter P wffi on' a 'seat flooded with moon-' action • words were illegible • _ „ ~ • happened twe^yea.rsa^, er he -whispered m a ia:£^P°K^ eletons 0 f sleep of forgetfulness. But I must take you back into, the. shadowy _.. . fc . . was at the beginning of theL a ?^ , between Arras was J ; ; Majoratthetime-KoyalFusiher^J-ny ; regiment was my young nephew Hamilton." , Was there f sternly y . thought so. But a ciou hadow face of the moon, creepy . . hid his face from me., ■■_~ B , ; unsophisticated, vital '■:■:- ade'solate,. .almost,.« '•' urgency. "Fresh and clean;as a : ?• °IT5' „t, TVflrmlv impulsive,-inn-hearted, peach. a fl rml / rst f d own. had nitely- joyous. The *ffi}jsisT& lip. scarcely been shaven _ off the, v'« He wai *he only son lifelong. piVD on Wag '■ A long silence/endured, He -W» .JS, • .'."''.pented and ble€(Ung inwardly, -- :

Then' a sad murmuring from the shadows: "You remember, perhaps, the 7th of April, 1917. . It was particularly fierce. Throughout the day the Germans were excessively restless. From oarly morning their whole line flashed into flame. We had been incessantly plagued by a Bosche machine gun fire a I little to the right of a farmhouse on our j left. Bruce, his cousin, Bob Stirling, and two others went out to obliterate the pest.. They achieved their object— steel-cold words! 'Two only returned, Bruce was one. He sought me out. I saw -immediately that something was amiss. The dreamy, live eyes were hot j pricks of misery and anxiety. "Look here, sir, I've got to get back to that farmhouse to-night." He spoke fretfully, impatiently. "Sorry, Bruce, hut lam afraid it can't I be done." •.....,. . * "But, Sir, I must." , . - :"How is that?" /'Well, you see it is like this, sir. Boh got it in the chest just as w« had cleaned them up. As he—" The boy's voice quivered, hut recovered bravely. "As he lay dying, sir, I was just able to hear Jus choking whisper: 'Bruco ... old man ... a letter ... my pocket-book ... send to Prue . . . she must have it .... must have misunderstood me .. will never know if you do not . . . give to her . . : . Oh, God .. . the pain. Promise lad . . . quick. . it is. so dark . . promise .. . ' '1 promise, Bob, old man.' 'Good kid . .~. Prue : . . so,dark ... and so,. . .sweetheart .. . good-night'' I was just bending over to find the pocketbook, when a Jack Johnson ripped round us. We had to run'. There was no going back just then. So you see, sir, I just must go back. My promise .. . I must." The shining eyes were moist. Innocent," questing eyes. Glowing, dancing like sunlight. Through them cried a soul, shrinking, horrified, inarticulate—from the bloody brutalities to which the nations' rapacity doom their striplings. I gently expostulated with him. "Even if you do return, lad, there is hardly a ghost of a chance that you will now find Bob's body." "But I must try, sir, my promise . . . my word." . "JTo, Bruce." "But, sir " "Your orders, Corporal." ■' "Very well, sir." I have seen the same dumb anguish darken a fretting dog's eyes as, with a salute, the suffering youngster turned away. "His every word is burned into my heart in an eternity of remembrance.' That rain-drenched day gave way to a rain-soggy, pitch-black night. The wind squalled down, screaming aside the blare of battle. From all corners of the inky blackness leaped forth weary-weighted voices. "Damn yer, who the devil do you think yer heavin' against, eh?" Someone was crying softly. "Are we downhearted? A T —o—o!", Then a stumble, a thud, and an oath. "Lor hlimeyKgot me . . . Oh, God." "Aren't our darling sergeant's sweet cheeks pink to-night? Oh, see! the darlin's blushin'. Say, ."'Erb, "see ma Edyce spotlights showin' round yet? No? Yer don't siy so'. Blimey, don't know what's comin' over that there shuffufe of mine. •Not 'ai-f, I don't, gettin' too darned careless, that's what 'ee is. Hi, there! Bed. Cross wanted - 'ere. First aid fr a woiinded officer.".-,. , : . _ • Here and there in the sooty, thickness a sootier mass showed up for a second. Shells bit into the ground; tearing and screaming. A frightful, fantastic night. Trench mortars, hand grenades, storms of shrapnel—whizzing screams of awful, bursting thunder. . Then the Germans ceased firing. Why they had not done so long before I know riot, for no human agency could cut that blackness with any certainty. . I ■was just making for headquarters • when a Verey light went tip. I thought 1 saw a slight movement ahead. I stared—yes, there it was a dark blur—creeping towards ( .our lines, ihen. -inky • blackness . once again.Another flash—the'flame played on the crawling shadow. A Bosche—-creeping— crawling nearer and nearer. I took aim. : He collapsed in a .heap. "Skunks! Darned if I don't 'ave 'is blqomin' trap- . pings,"- 'announced, an excited Cockney voice. And then he was back, half stumbling beneath the German's dead ■ weight. They passed close to me. Something.induced me to look down. I don't know what it was. Some signal, per- ; haps—compelling—crying from an imI merise distance. Anyway, I flashed my . torch on to the German's face. All, God. ... No! I dropped to my knees i' and bent low over the body . . . so . still ... a soul unconquerable ... at • rest. The first down had scarcely, been shaven off the upper lip, the quiet fingers clutched a little-envelope, sodden, torn, ' grimy. .