A Prince of the Captivity (Unabridged). Buchan John

face had given place to the hue of health, which was inevitable, for he was now striving consciously to keep his body fit. His old alertness had returned, and, instead of the dull apathy of the first days, he showed a lively curiosity about events in the outer world. He asked for books, and an odd collection they made. Milton was the only poet—naturally, Stannix thought, for Adam seemed to have pulled himself together and to be making a stand against fortune, and Milton in his blindness had done the same. There were various books of philosophy, including a newly published volume of Bergson, and various works on the higher mathematics. Also there was a mass of travel literature, and many grammars. There was no request for any military books.

      Adam had resolved to equip himself for his task in this enforced leisure which had been granted him. The first thing was to keep his mind bright and clear, so he toiled at the stiffest mental gymnastics which he could find. The second was to enlarge his knowledge, for one who worked in the shadows must know more than those in the daylight. He had decided that soldiering, the scientific side of it at any rate, was no more for him, so he put his old interests aside. Since he did not know where his future service might lie, he set about informing himself on those parts of the globe which were strange to him. He had always had a passion for geography, and now, by much reading and poring over maps, he acquired an extensive book-knowledge of many countries. Languages, too, for which he had a turn. He already spoke French and German well—German almost like a native, and he had a fair knowledge of Italian and Spanish. To these he now added Russian and Turkish, and, having in his youth learned enough Icelandic to read the Sagas, he made himself a master of the Scandinavian tongues. He found his days pass pleasantly, for he had an ordered programme to get through, and he had the consciousness that he was steadily advancing in competence. Every scrap of knowledge which he acquired might some day, under God’s hand, be of vital import.

      But there were two tasks which he could not yet touch—the most urgent tasks of all. He must school his body to endure the last extremes of fatigue and pain and prison gave him no chance for such a training. Also he must acquire a courage like tempered steel. It was not enough to hold one’s life cheap: that was merely a reasoned purpose; what was needed was to make fortitude a settled habit, so that no tremor of nerves should ever mar his purpose. On that point alone he had qualms. He had still to lift his body, with all its frailties, to the close-knit resolution of his mind.

      Chapter 5

       Table of Contents

      Adam came out of prison in March 1914. His lawyer had seen to the preliminaries, and Camilla intended to divorce him for desertion under Scots law. He had settled upon her most of his income, leaving himself one thousand pounds a year, apart from Eilean Bàn. She ultimately married a hunting baronet in Yorkshire, and passed out of his life. The island he let for a further term of seven years to its former tenant. If he was ever to return there, he had a heavy road to travel first.

      Most of the summer was spent in getting back his body to its former vigour, for the effects of a long spell of confinement do not disappear in a day. He took rooms at a farmhouse in Northumberland and set himself to recruit his muscles and nerves as steadily as if he had been preparing for an Olympic race. He spent hours daily on the moors in all weathers, and the shepherds were puzzled by the man with the lean face and friendly eyes who quartered the countryside like a sheep-dog. At one of the upland fairs he entered for a hill race, and beat the longest-legged keeper by half a mile. His mind needed no recruitment, for it had been long in training. He spent the evenings with his books, and once a week walked to the nearest town to get the London newspapers. He was waiting for a sign.

      That sign came in the first days of August with the outbreak of war.

      Part 2

      Chapter 6

       Table of Contents

      In Whitehall on an August morning Adam met Stannix.

      The latter had just left the War Office, which had changed suddenly from a mausoleum to a hive. He was in uniform, with scarlet gorget-patches, and was respectfully saluted by whatever wore khaki. At sight of Adam he cried out.

      “The man in all the world I most want to see! Where have you come from?”

      “From Northumberland, where I have been getting fit. It looks as if I had finished the job just in time.”

      “And where are you bound for?”

      “To join up.”

      “As a private?”

      “Of course. I’m no longer a soldier.”

      “Nonsense, man. That can’t be allowed. We’re running this business like a pack of crazy amateurs, but there’s a limit to the things we can waste. Brains is one.”

      “I must fight,” said Adam. “You’re doing the same.”

      “Not I. I’m stuck at home in this damned department store. I want to go out to-morrow, for I’ve been in the Yeomanry for years and know something about the job, but they won’t let me—yet. They told me I must do the thing I’m best fitted for. I pass that on to you.”

      Adam shook his head.

      “I’m fit for nothing but cannon-fodder. You know that well enough, Kit. And I’m quite content. I’ll find some way of making myself useful, never fear.”

      “I daresay you will, but not the best way. This wants perpending. Promise me on your honour that you’ll do nothing to-day, and lunch with me tomorrow. By that time I may have a plan.”

      Adam protested, but the other was so urgent that at last he agreed.

      Next day they lunched together and Stannix wore an anxious face.

      “I’ve seen Ritson and Marlake,” he said, “and they think as I do. If you join up as a private, you’ll presently get your stripes, and pretty soon you’ll be offered a commission. But in a battalion you’ll be no better than a hundred thousand others. I want you to have a show. Well, it can’t be in the open, so it must be in the half-light or the dark. That means risks, far bigger risks than the ordinary fellow is now facing in Flanders, but it also means an opportunity for big service. How do you feel about it?”

      Adam’s face brightened.

      “I haven’t much capital left, and I want to spend it. I don’t mind risks—I covet them. And I don’t mind working in the dark, for that is where I must live now.”

      Stannix wrinkled his brows.

      “I was certain you’d take that view, and I told Ritson so. But Adam, old man, I feel pretty miserable about it. For a chance of work for you means a certainty of danger—the most colossal danger.”

      “I know, I know,” said Adam cheerfully. “That’s what I’m looking for. Hang it, Kit, I must squeeze some advantage out of my troubles, and one is that my chiefs should not concern themselves about what happens to me. I’m a volunteer for any lost hope.”

      “I may be helping to send my best friend to his death,” said Stannix gloomily.

      “Everybody is doing that for everybody. You’ll be doing the kindest thing in the world if you give me a run for my money. I’ve counted the cost.”

      The result of this talk was that during the following week Adam had various interviews. The first was with Ritson at the War Office, a man who had been one of his instructors at the Staff College. Ritson, grey with overwork, looked shyly at his former pupil. “This is a queer business, Melfort,” he said. “I think you are right. You’re the man I would have picked above all others—only of course I couldn’t have got you if certain things hadn’t happened… You know what’s expected of you and what you’re up against. Good-bye and God bless you! I’ll be like a man looking down into deep water