CHAPTER XIII

"That you, Nancarrow?"

"Yes, Captain Pringle," replied Bob, whom by this time he had recognised.

"What are you doing here?" asked Captain Pringle, with a smile.

"I want to enlist, sir."

The Captain lifted his eyebrows; perhaps he remembered their last conversation together.

"Will you come this way," he said; "I should like a chat with you."

Bob followed the Captain, while the other fellows looked envyingly towards him.

Captain Pringle led the way to a small room which he evidently used as an office. To all appearance he was in authority at the station.

"I'm rather surprised to see you here, Nancarrow," he said, when he had taken his seat behind a business-looking desk, and pointed Bob to a chair.

"I'm rather surprised myself, sir."

"What have you been doing since I saw you last?"

Bob told him.

"And now you want to enlist?"

"If I can, sir."

"What as?"

"Anything, sir. For the front, if it is possible. I want to be at it."

The Captain smiled at Bob's eagerness.

"But, my dear chap," he said, "this is surely a big change for you. If I remember aright, you joined the O.T.C. only to please your mother, and you hated soldiering and all its doings as you hated the devil."

"I expect I do still, sir; but--but I am afraid it would take too long to explain why--why I feel I must go to the front. I've had a bad time in one way and another. You see, my father was a Quaker, and I was brought up to believe in his teachings. I do still, for that matter.

War is h.e.l.l, there's no doubt about that. But I've gone through the whole business, and now I want to be at it. I don't want to stay in England five minutes longer than I can help. I must get to the firing-line. I feel like a man who wants to kill a mad dog."

"Commissions aren't so easily obtained."

"I'm not troubling about a commission, sir. We can't be all officers, and I feel that all I ever learnt about soldiering would come back to me in a week. If I can help it, I don't want to be idling around in a barracks, or in camp; I just want to go to France as soon as ever I can. I'll do anything, be anything; I don't care what, so long as I can get into action."

"That's the spirit," replied Captain Pringle; "and I can't tell you how glad I am to see you here. Of course I remember you when you were in the O.T.C. You did jolly well--distinguished yourself, in fact. You remember what I said to you."

"Yes, sir, I remember very well."

The Captain was silent for a few seconds. He seemed to be thinking deeply, as if he were uncertain what to say.

"Naturally you know that even although you took a kind of double first in the O.T.C., in the ordinary course of things you would have to have further training before you could go into active service as a private."

"That's what's bothering me, sir. I did think of joining one of the Public School or University Corps, but from what I can find out, they are kept down at Epsom or some such place. I suppose they are having a great time, and all that sort of thing; but, don't you see, that's not what I want! I mean business, Captain Pringle."

The Captain started from his chair, and took two or three turns up and down the room.

"You are really anxious for active service?" he said presently.

"I am. I feel that I've waited too long, and I want to make up for lost time. It's several weeks now since the war commenced, and although, heaven knows, I thought I was doing the right thing, I feel now as though I have been playing the sneak and the coward. Other chaps have been fighting while I have been sitting in an arm-chair theorising on the ethics of the business. Now, however, I see my duty, and my way is clear. But I want to make up for lost time. I want to be in the thick of it. Of course, if I can't, I can't, and, as I said, I'm willing and anxious to do whatever I am told. But I _do_ want to go to the front; I don't care in what capacity, but somewhere where I can help to kill this Mad Mullah who is threatening the best life of Europe."

"You want to help to smash Germany?" laughed the Captain.

"Yes, that's it!"

"But why?" asked the Captain curiously.

"Because Germany, that is, official Germany, the Germany that holds in thraldom millions of people, is the spirit of war. It worships the G.o.d of War, and I want to go to war in order to kill war. You can't argue with it, you can't appeal to it, because what is right to you is simple madness to them. There's nothing for it but to crush it, destroy it root and branch."

"But what about your religious views?" laughed the Captain. "Don't you still believe in prayer and in that kind of thing?"

"It's because I _do_ believe in it that I've been led to think as I do think. But it would be mocking the Almighty to pray to be kept from starvation when you refused to work; blasphemy to pray for good health while your drains are foul; madness to pray that no robbers might enter your house, when you left your doors unlocked, knowing that all the time fellows were waiting to come in and rob you. Just the same it would be mockery to pray that Germany may be kept from going to war, when she believes that Christ encourages it, that it is her duty to force war, and as a consequence has been for twenty years preparing for it, and waiting for a favourable opportunity to begin her h.e.l.lish work, without doing all one can. We've got to crush, to kill this War G.o.d of theirs, and make war impossible for the future. Forgive me, sir, for talking like this; I didn't mean to. I've been a long time in getting to this point, but now it has become a kind of pa.s.sion with me, because I feel it to be the Call of G.o.d."

"By gad, Nancarrow, but you've touched the spot this time, and you've put it well too! I'm not much at religion, I'm afraid, and I've had no scruples. I'm an Englishman, and an Englishman must stand by his promises, and help the weak. That's enough for me. All the same, I've thought, as I suppose every one else has, how any war can be squared with Christianity. But as you've put it--yes, I see--you mean that out of love for the German people themselves, this War G.o.d, as you call it, must be thrown down and crushed to powder!"

"Yes, that's it."

"Yes, and then there is another question--but no, I'll not go into that now. As you said, you mean business, and I've spent a good quarter of an hour, or more, talking. But still, old times are old times, after all, and we were friends in the old days. But to business now. I'm as keen as you are that you shall get into the thick of it. As a matter of fact, I expect to go to the front myself in a week, and I want to do what I can for you. You are willing to do anything, you say?"

"Anything."

"Look here, can you ride--well, I mean? No modesty, now. Speak plainly."

"I can ride anything, sir. I can stick on a horse galloping, with my face to its tail."

"Good! Know anything about motoring?"

"I've had a car for years, and always driven it myself. I do my own repairing, and I know every inch of it, inside and out."

"Good again! Know anything about motorbikes?"

"Ridden one for years. After the last Easter Vac., I went from Cornwall to Oxford on an old Humber. When I got there, I took it all to pieces, repaired some of the parts, and turned it into a good machine. Excuse me for talking so much about myself. I wouldn't have done it, had you not asked me. Besides, I'm anxious to show you that I'm not helpless."

"Helpless, by George! You are a useful man. You ride like a Centaur, and you know all about motor-cars and motor-bikes. In addition to all this, you did jolly well in the O.T.C. Yes, you certainly must be made use of."

Again Captain Pringle was silent for a few seconds.