THE SHAM FIGHT AT RUDDIFORD.

By George Flambro
(pseud for G W Lamplugh, 1859-1926)

I.

       EVIDENTLY something unusual was toward in Ruddiford. In the early evening a Portent had appeared, in the shape of a man with a bugle.

       This bugler stationed himself at one end of the long street which contained nearly the whole town, and blew a blast that made the ears of every one in the place to tingle again. He was a stout man, this bugler, in scarlet uniform, and must have been proud of his vocation, or he would scarcely have considered it necessary to blow again, even louder than before, after he had moved on barely a hundred yards. It really seemed wrong of him to disturb the still June air in this fashion, and the startled swallows skimming to and fro quickened their flight, not knowing what to make of it. But he did not notice this, and went on raising the clamorous call again and again, as he made his way slowly down the street. The little boys flocked round him like flies, and followed his steps with pattering feet; and whenever he stopped they gathered apart in an anxious group, and watched the bugle go to his lips with such intensity of interest that every little brow was rumpled and every little mouth puffed out in sympathy.

       At last the bugler reached the further end of the street, and was heard no more. But his passing had completely broken up the placid calm which had brooded over the town all day. The long street burst at once into fitful activity, and everywhere clean-aproned men and boys were popping in and out of the shops, with thump and clatter, putting up the heavy wooden shutters. Then the men and boys disappeared, and for a space the glowing sun, sauntering along the western horizon as his fashion is in June, glanced the whole length of the desolate street without being able to strike a single shadow.

       But the desolation was only momentary, the stillness that of a pot just before it comes a-boil. Extraordinary figures suddenly appeared in every quarter — figures in military attire and yet most ludicrously unmilitary in aspect; and every such figure was the centre of a cluster. All down the street the scarlet coats blazed in the sun, and they and their soberer satellites flowed steadily in one direction.

       Finally they became concentrated in an open space under the shadow of the old church tower, and there, jostled by a crowd of onlookers, they arranged themselves in two uneven ranks, and stood forth the X. Company of the Fifth Cornshire Rifle Volunteers.

       They were as jovial and good-natured a set of men, these volunteers, and as undisciplined, as you could have picked up anywhere. They were just a pack of lads brimful of fun and mischief, even though some of them were mature in years. Healthy eyes twinkled out as merrily from above bushy grizzled beards as from over the smoothest chin, and there was not a sad heart in the lot. They were all friends and neighbours — not more than three score of them altogether unless you counted the band — and were animated by a single desire, which was, to have as jolly a time of it as possible.

       The band itself formed a separate cluster in which the musicians stood, hugging their ponderous instruments as though they loved them. Since every true Ruddifordian takes a healthy delight in noise, this band was extremely popular, and was disproportionately strong. It numbered five-and-twenty pairs of vigorous lungs, beside the drummer, and would have been still larger if the men could have had their choice. It was quite a local institution, and did duty at every club feast and agricultural show for miles around. The captain of this array was the great gentleman who owned the big brewery behind the church. Full of importance he strutted to and fro in front of his men whenever the crowd would let him, but found the labour of sustaining, among his other military embellishments, a large eye-glass under his left eyebrow too severe to allow him much time for anything else. It is very doubtful whether he could see anything through it, and his men, having discovered this, made fun of him to his face. He was indeed by no means popular with them, though of course quite unconscious of the fact. His lieutenant, the young miller, was on the other hand a general favourite; but then he was hail-fellow-well-met with every member of the corps, and they called him by his Christian name and exchanged "chaff" with him as he moved about among them. As for the drill-sergeant, he was an easy-going Irishman, and had given up all hope of the Fifth Cornshire long ago.

       From the general enthusiasm it was evident that this muster was no ordinary affair, no mere drilling practice such as the Ruddifordian volunteers loved to shirk, wherein after no end of tedious marching and counter-marching their rifles were brought to the "present" with empty barrels, and nothing louder than a tantalizing click followed the word "Fire." No! This time it was cartridge they were to have, and plenty of it; and the business on hand was a real sham-fight, such as only happened once in a time, and, when it did, was reckoned by every one in Ruddiford as good as any circus. No wonder therefore that every one was elated.

       First the men were to march the whole length of the town, a very gratifying arrangement both for themselves and their families, and then out into the country for two miles until they came to the wide pasture half-way between Ruddiford and Ditchfallow. where the Ditchfallow corps would meet them and they would proceed to annihilate each other with blank cartridge.

       Their exuberant spirits at this prospect revealed itself even on the roll-call and the facetious ones responded to their names with "Here!" "There!" "Yonder!" "Gone to bed!" and such like witticisms, given it is true, in a tone intended to reach only to the ears of their comrades. Then some preliminary evolutions were attempted, but the press of spectators brought all to confusion. So the signal was given for which the band had been impatiently waiting. — Thud — thud — thud went the drum, and then, with a sudden blare that astonished even the cows and set the horses galloping wildly in every field for miles around, the band struck up. Off went the musicians down the long Main Street, and the rest of the corps muddled itself somehow or other into fours and followed.
 

II.

       In its idle moments Ruddiford frequently speculated upon the past history of one of its inhabitants. This was natural, because he was the only man in the town whose career had not been watched from the beginning. He had not started at the beginning like the rest, — he had come to them with his career accomplished.

       It was always reported in Ruddiford that Mr. Cayton had come to live there because of the healthiness of the air and the cheerfulness of the company; but the clever ones, whose eyes saw deeper into the millstone, whispered mysteriously that it suited a certain noble family very well to bury alive its stricken member in this quiet out-of-the-way place. Perhaps it did, — any how the poor weary-faced, wandering-eyed invalid had drifted hither with his solitary attendant some years before, and was here still. The attendant, a morose, coarse-featured man, was by no means easy to approach, and though in the early days of his arrival Ruddiford had plied him with its wonted liquorish hospitality on every available occasion, he remained obdurate and uncommunicative. This made Ruddiford look upon him as something of a swindler, and it thereafter held aloof from him.

       Mr. Cayton and his servant lodged in a pleasant house standing back from the road in one of the side-lanes of the town, and there almost any day when it was fine, the tall thin melancholy figure of the former might be seen straying aimlessly backwards and forwards along the garden paths, and generally the square-set short-necked form of the latter was not far behind. Gradually the calm and freshness of the country had called back in some degree the bodily powers of the invalid, but you had but to look into his restless, gray eyes to see that something had gone which was past recall. When Ruddiford had had time to get thoroughly accustomed to these figures and to regard them as really belonging to itself, it became quite proud of them and made them one of the stock subjects for discussion during the long winter evenings in the snug bar of the "George." If a Ditchfallovian was present he was often twitted on the absence of any such attraction in his own town. Even the little boys were interested; as they went to school they used often to press their little noses between the pailings and watch the silent figure for a time, and then shout out "Au'd Softie" and run away as fast as their legs would carry them, boasting all day after of their boldness. The years passed, and still the tall form moved aimlessly along the garden paths, tapping the flowers occasionally with his light cane. Time had been for him, — but was no more. He was there as usual, on this very June night, when not a soul in Ruddiford but had hurried away either to watch the volunteers or to join them — he alone unconscious and undisturbed.

       But hark! what march is that they are playing? Surely —–. Mr. Cayton has lifted his head and is listening attentively. As he listens faint gleams of expression play across the blankness of his countenance. He leans forward for a moment, and then moves slowly and deliberately towards the gate. Reaching it, he looks furtively around him, but for once the watchful eyes he dreads are not upon him. He opens the gate, and steps boldly into a world unvisited for years.
 

III.

       People came from far enough to Ruddiford for its trout-fishing, and whenever they came they always put up at the "George." The wonderful reputation which the house had gained was another stock subject with the topers in the bar. The windows of the coffee-room looked out on Main Street, and an elderly gentleman, who had been fishing all day, was sitting at the table there busy with a substantial meal, when the uproar began at the end of the street.

       He stopped eating to ask the waiter "what the deuce was the matter." "It's our Rifles, sir," said the waiter. "There's going to be a sham fight to-night, sir, and a good deal of shooting, and, if you please, if there's nothing else you think you'll want I should very much like to go, sir;" and then, as if afraid of a possible veto, he rushed up stairs forthwith to change his coat, reappearing a moment later, ludicrously altered in appearance. "Sure there's nothing you'll want, sir —– very fine band, sir," and then he vanished for good.

       Evidently the gentleman did not relish this disturbance; his eyes dilated and he snorted a little as he got up, and strode to the window. In doing so he betrayed his military training. He was in fact a retired officer of the "Regulars," and the scorn depicted on his face as he watched the procession pass the window was terrible to behold. "Fools! asses! idiots!" he snorted. "Wasting good time and good money in child's play! Not the making of a soldier among 'em! Bah!" and he banged down the window to shut out the noise, and drank three glasses of wine in rapid succession to soothe his ruffled feelings.

       No one could deny it; it was a trying sight. Such a crew! First the band puffing out blasts of sound like the spasms of a locomotive, preceded and surrounded by their friends and admirers; and the drummer who wielded the drumstick with one hand and the cymbals with the other, and could scarcely get elbow-room for the children on either side of him. Then the company, all at sixes and sevens, with their rifles sloped at all angles, bumping and jostling each other as they turned about to shout their greetings to friends on the side-walks. Gaily they all stamped along, careless of orders. The little boys dared each other to rush across the ranks, and the men good-naturedly gave way to let them do so. Relations and families, "by tens and dozens" like the Hamelin rats, hastened along beside them and kept up a running fire of conversation and comment. "Hi! there's me bruther Bill!" yelled one urchin. "Tom! let me see d' buckle a rubbed bright for tha," cried another. "John, le-ak at thee bairns!" sang out a stout matron in the midst of a circle. In vain the little lieutenant pleaded, and expostulated, — they only laughed and told him to take it easy — they were all right.

       At last even the captain began to forget his eye-glass and to feel that he was not getting quite so much credit from the display as he ought, and as the bare suspicion of such a thing disturbed him, he determined to turn up out of Main Street and into the country lanes at once. "Left-wheel," he shouted; but not they! They always had gone the length of Main Street, and were not going to be balked in that way. "Left-wheel!" reiterated the little lieutenant. "Oh, I say, there, do left-wheel; down Cowpasture Lane, you know!" They professed not to hear and went rollicking forward.

       But the worst was to come! Suddenly amid all this tumult a well-known figure was seen hastening down the lane directly towards them, and in a moment Mr. Cayton had pushed his way through the throng, and ranged alongside the marching column, falling easily into step as he did so and bringing his cane to his shoulder as though it were a sabre.

       His appearance in this fashion caused roars of laughter. The little boys jumped with delight: "Le-ak at Aud Softie playing soulger! Hi, Softie, Ready! Present! Fire!" But he was oblivious and looked straight ahead, his thin face glowing with awakened life. Of course he became the centre of attraction; every man in the company wanted to see him, and in their effort destroyed the last semblance of rank. The musicians wondered what was happening behind and must needs turn about sharply to find out; and thus the trombone clashed up suddenly against the bassoon, and the bassoon-man's brass was thrown from his lips in the middle of a note, while the trombone-player had three or four inches of his mouth-piece jammed into his mouth to the imminent danger of his teeth, a little incident which was fairly too much for the rest of the players. Their effort to smother their laughter only brought forth the drollest sounds from their instruments, and increased the general hilarity. Their leader held out longest, but had to give in after a most wonderful squeaky quaver from his cornet, and then the whole burden of the day fell upon the drum. Happily the drummer was a tower of strength, and proud of his advantage thumped away steadily, all the time laughing louder than any of them.

       The captain bit his lips and dropped his eye-glass, but dared do nothing for fear of making himself look ridiculous. The little lieutenant, however, ran forward and touched the new recruit on the arm. "Mr. Cayton," he said gently, "will you please walk on the path?" But Mr. Cayton neither saw nor heard him; he saw only something that had happened long ago, and marched along with head erect in an ecstasy, while the young officer fell back abashed and discomfited.

       So on they went, and gradually the laughter died away, and the band took up its strain again, and somehow the corps began to feel that after all the joke was going against them. They glanced uneasily at the bearing of their strange comrade, and were not satisfied with themselves. The man who stood next him grew bashful and self-conscious under the scrutiny his neighbour attracted, and doubted whether a comparison between them would be favourable to himself. So he straightened himself and held up his head in a desperate effort to look unconcerned. His example infected his right-hand neighbour, who in turn had to abandon his slouching, and, through him, the whole rank. The next rank noticed this, and was forced in self-defence to mend its own attitude; and so with the next, and next. Thus not many minutes had passed before the aspect of the whole column was changed.

       It emerged from the further end of the street so altered in every way that it might reasonably have had doubts as to its own identity.
 

IV.

       Though the field on which the sham-fight was to be held was spacious, and had much to recommend it, there were certain drawbacks. The turf was short and pleasant to tread, but the surface had many inequalities, and on one side the ground dipped away steeply towards a little valley wherein ran a shallow stream. The steep slopes might indeed be avoided, but there were other things which it was far more difficult to avoid, and these were the cows. It was a famous place for cows, and these cows stuck to their acres like Irishmen, and were just as difficult to eject. It was really remarkable how obdurate and unreasonable they became when the red-coated detachment arrived to drive them out of the way. Had these men approached in their everyday clothes, there was not a cow in the herd but would have gone on calmly grazing while they had stood round it, and punched its ribs and pulled its skin, and learnedly discussed its condition. But directly the same men appeared in uniform the peace of every animal's mind was broken; up went every tail, and to and fro they galloped from fence to fence in a state of imbecile stupidity.

       Many and many a time just when the squads had been carefully and laboriously prepared for cavalry, the formation had been broken all to pieces in a moment by the stampeding of a fractious brute of a cow. This was one of the chief horrors of war at Ruddiford. The irrepressibility of the small boys who persisted in getting in front of the firing line and feigning to be shot was another.

       A policeman guarded the gate of this field, and, as the men of Ruddiford marched through, he did his best, with moderate success, to prevent the entrance of the camp-followers.

       The Ditchfallow corps was already busy with its manœuvres at the further end of the long pasture, and the bands-men of both armies were detached to clear off the obnoxious animals from the intervening space, so as to leave room for the combat.

       Meanwhile the men made their preliminary marches and countermarches, and arrayed themselves in line and in column, and in all sorts of fashions, with such an unusual approach to precision that the amazed lieutenant could scarcely believe his eyes. And the poor gentleman in black accompanied them in all their movements. The captain indeed strongly resented his presence, but did not know what to do. He had already gone so far as to declare in pompous tones that the public were not to be allowed within the gates. But Mr. Cayton showed no comprehension, and the men only grinned at their captain's evident discomfiture.

       Then the real business of the evening began. The two armies stood facing each other in line at short range, and opened hostilities by a simultaneous volley that should have doomed them forthwith to the fate of the cats of Kilkenny. For some minutes volley followed volley in rapid succession, till the Ditchfallow men began, according to the programme, to retire slowly to the shelter of a bank which marked the line of an old fence. Thereupon the Ruddifordians advanced in skirmishing order, individually firing away the rest of their cartridges as fast as they could, while the spectators who lined the fences bordering the road shouted with delight. As for Mr. Cayton the rattle of the rifles had completed what the march-music had begun, and he stood forth once more a man among men.

       When the Ruddiford men had fired their last cartridge the order was given to fall back, and close ranks preparatory to the charge. It was their invariable custom to get as far back as possible before commencing that glorious movement.

       The sun had set, and the long twilight was already fading as they drew up flushed and excited for the grand finale. Mr. Cayton was moving restlessly backward and forward just behind the fighting line evidently under strong tension.

       The men were waiting only the word to dash straight forward after their accustomed fashion, and the mouths of several were already wide open impatient to give the regulation yell, when they were electrified by a sharp command "Shoulder arms! Fours — left! Slope arms! Quick — march!" and Major Cayton had resumed command. For a moment there was terrible disorder. Half the men by force of habit and expectancy had started off straight forward, but the other half, including all the younger members, managed to master the impulse, and in one fashion or another obeyed the command. Only a few of the nimblest wits grasped whence it had come, and they were delighted at the splendid chance afforded of bothering their captain.

       "Double!" again rang out the order, and away went the obedient ones without exactly knowing where. "Right wheel!" and they are down in the hollow, quite out of sight of those who are left behind, and doubling merrily along up the valley. A boundary fence lies right in front of them, but it is of no great height, and they charge slap across it and into the next field. Positively glorious this — ever so much better than the old-fashioned way! The field they are in belongs to a determined enemy of the force, a terrible old curmudgeon who is ever on the look out for trespassers, and growls if the townsfolk do but peep over his fences. And sure enough there he is with his riding-whip ready, right in front of them. He is fairly gasping with amazement at this horrible violation of his property rights. "What — what — what in the name of —–" but before he can get any further they have pushed and jostled him out of their way so impetuously that he finds himself seated on the sod, gazing blankly after them. "You rascals — villains — scoundrels! Assault and battery — assault and battery ! — battery! Hi — Police! — suffer for it every man-jack of you — you shall — you shall! Hi, Police, Police!" And he added some words in his passion, quite forgetting he was a churchwarden, that pained the good parson deeply when they were duly reported to him next day.

       Splendid! Victory and exercise glow in every cheek and brighten every eye, and close behind them, cheering them on, is the Soldier with his cane. Higher up the field they dash across the fence again, and all at once see exultantly what is expected of them. Though still hidden, they are close to the enemy now, and are preparing a surprise. At the word they close ranks as they run with the steadiness of veterans, and their tingling ears are filled with a voice which says, "Boys, your work is in front of you and mind you do it! Charge!" The magic of those tones is not lost then; the men's faces grow fierce and terrible as they listen, just as they always did in old times. They shout wildly back to him — verily there is not a sane man among them!

       Come out here, you blind old critic who sits drinking wine at the "George," and say what you think of these men now.

       The Ditchfallow corps got a fright that evening it never recovered from; its members resigned by wholesale afterwards. They had been mystified from the first, but stuck faithfully to their part of the programme. They had just blazed away their last cartridge at the place where their opponents ought to have been, when all at once a great shout arose close behind them, and they turned to see those madmen scampering over the bank, making straight for them. For an instant they huddled together with some vague idea of defence. But when they saw in the twilight the set teeth and gleaming eyes behind the oncoming bayonets, and heard an awful voice call out "Steady now! Each of you pick your man and aim for the throat or lower part of the chest," — is it to be wondered that a terrible panic seized them and that they turned and fled in all directions? Some of them shouted for help and some for the police — at least, so the Ruddiford men afterwards declared.

       And just then, in the moment of his triumph, a hard hand gripped the Soldier's arm, and a coarse voice said, "Come, sir, you've had enough of this fooling for one day! Just you come home with me, will you!" and cruel eyes looked savagely into his, and of a sudden the glow and life went out of his face as when a flame is quenched, and Mr. Cayton sighed a weary, heart-broken sigh and suffered himself to be led away like a little child.

       As for the fighting men of Ruddiford, their leader gone they looked foolishly at each other for a minute or two and then dispersing slunk away separately, trusting to reach home unobserved under cover of the dusk. There was something strange about that night which they could never understand.

GEORGE FLAMBRO.      

(THE END)