THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 66, 27 June 1910, Page 6

THE STORYTELLER.

(PRIVATE BLAKE'S MESSAGE A STORY OF THE CRIMEAN WAR. '•'•The horrors of the battlefield! Ml \ dear Mr. Bell, I went through the Crimean campaign and shared in its manifold tribulations, from the battle of Alma to Balaclava. But never did I witness anything half so soul-rending as the sight seen on hoard H.M.S. Mauritius, on the second 1 and third week of NovemI her, 1554. Tragedy is not always at its zenith when the greatest display of it is made before the world."

"Perhaps not, Dr. (Richmond, but if you have gone through a more tragic experience than a battlefield holds forth, the incident must be unique, and should be worth telling." "The main thing is to consider about a f tory is 'whether it is worth listening to or not."

"Give me an opportunity of judging." "With pleasure. There is not much to tell. As you doubtless know already, 1 was only a volunteer, and my name does not appear in the official list of army surgeons. But I learned more of the technicalities of my profession during that terrible campaign than three years of hospital walking at home would have, taught me, and in spite of the- inevitable roughness with which many of our operations were performed, each individual member of the volunteer staff of'doctors and nurses was a distinct blessing to the sorely-tried soldiers, who fought so bravely for their country, and endured so many hardships that are not always I the necessary accomplishments of war. I "Two hundred and thirty-three wounded officers and men were shipped in the j Mauritius for' the barrack hospital at Scutari, and I found myself told off to attend to some of them en route, a ml to use my abilities as best I could for their benefit after the miserable apoiogj ior a hospital was reached. "I shall never forget that awfu voyage. Pandemonium itself couh! not ■present more acute aspects of sul ring. Maimed, torn, crushed, and i everstricken, the pain-tortured patien's had no chance of having their sufferings materially eased while being tossed about at sea. The ship was so frightfully overqrowded, too, that it was impossible to secure isolation and quiet for those to whom we 'knew well that noise of any kind meant certain death, and it was very hard to witness the doom of several fine fellows whom we could have saved under more favorable conditions. Some, happily for themselves, soon lost all consciousness of their sufferings, but their wild raving only piled additional anguish upon those from whom oblivion held aloof. "And there was even worse to come, for the passage occupied much more time than was expected, and, within sight of the longed-for pier, we were caught in the memorable gale of the 17th, which sank the Black Prince and a large number of transports and vessels of all descriptions. Alike on land as on sea was the havoc terrific. Mosques, kiosks, and houses fared little better than ships, ana universal destruction was the order of the day. Even the temporary shellter intended for invalided soldiers was destroyed. "The Mauritius survived the gale, but picture, if you can, the pitiful condition of her living freight. Shattered arms and legs, and fractured skulls were among the fiiost common cases on board, and cried aloud for rest and comfort. Alas! We knew that many a man's case became hopeless when the ship first pitched them alternately feet upwards and head downwards. Then, Iby way of a change, she would groan and shake from end to end, prior to giving a lurch which sent some of the tenants of the thwartship bunks flying on the floor to keep company with th» writhing martyrs who had been already ejected from the bunks running alongships. "Small wonder that they gave vent to their agonising' sufferings in a frightful conglomeration of moans, shrieks, prayers, sobs and curses, or that the nursing staff, themselves seasick and exhausted, were unable to cope with the horrors which surrounded them?

"But enough of this experience! The very memory of it makes my blood run cold and flesh creep after a lapse of forty odd years. "I am an old man now, but I am still sound 1 in wind and limbs, and in those days my powers of physical endurance ■were marvellous. Thus I was able to render help in the stifling cabins of the Mauritius, when some of my colleagues felt it impossible to hold up. Among my patients were two soldiers, both of who were evidently of superior origin, and iboth of whom entrusted me with last messages to friends in England. One was Private Blake, and the other was Sergeant-Major Moulton. They belonged to different regiments, and lay in , different wards, so that it is extremely I doubtful if either man knew that the j other was on board. "It is therefore all the more ineoimpre- ' hensMe that 'I should have muddled ! their messages, and fixed their names so I inextricably that I oould not for the lite ' of me remember to which family I was | to bear the information that 'lt was un--1 der the pear-tree in a tin-box, and that, if the time come over again, he would once more avenge himself on the man who had wrecked his lift-.' : "If you feel inclined to censure my apparent carelessness, you must try to put vourself in my place and to remember al!l the elements of extraction which surrounded me. You must also bear in mind the fact that many other messages were confide I to me by poor fellows to whom death was beckoning, and you will then, '.perhaps, be able to make some allowance for my temporary mental obfuscation. "The two messages with which my 1 story deals were given to me on the 10th I of November. Private Blake died before : me made Scutari; Sergeant Moulton survived the horrors of the passage; but a colleague told me that it was impossible for him to live throusrh the night subsequent to our disembarkation. „ "In one of the hastily improvised bos-

pital shelters at Scutari I lost my heart to one of the noble band ot nurses who had forsaken luxurious homes in order to bestow angelic care upon maimed and suffering compatriots. I won't say that tho girl, known to me as. Sister Ruth, was beautiful in the strictest sense of the word; but she had beautiful eyes, through, which shone a beautiful soul, and I had not looked twice at her lithe, supple figure, and pure pale face -without knotting that she was the one woman in tho world for me. "But when I came to wonder whether I was. the one man in the world for her, matters assumed a very different complexion. For Sister Ruth was sweetness and kindness personified. She showed me no more favor than she would to one or two other admirers, and she received all my advances with a quiet dignity which made me despair of ever awakening in her the warmer feelings I for which I craved.

"One day I ventured to give utterance to my feelings, but she looked at me with that sweet, gad, smile of hers, and convinced me that for .the. present' at least, my case was hopeless. '"I have no time to think of my future,' she said, 'until I have fulfilled the purpose of my life, and I have righted a great wrong, of which I was the •unwilling and invohniary cause.' "'But at least 1 i'.m not distasteful to you/ I pleaded. "''Far from it! T :.m not foolish enough to pretend that I do not care for you. I would fal my own happiness by accepting you at :nve if I felt at liberty to do so. ly.it, as I have already' told you, I >.ive a duty to perform before I think of myself.'

"And upon this point she was firm. Nothing 'would move her from her position, and vurs was such a busy life that I had few opportunities of conversation with her. But as all things have an end, so also had this weary campaign, and there came a time when it was my happy privilege to be on the same home-ward-bound transport ship with the woman I worshipped, and to be able to render her the little services she needed.

"Indeed, the reaction after the prolonged spell of exertion and anxiety she had passed through was telling severely upon her fragile constitution now.. But she and I were alike hopeful of the good results of a renewed sojourn in her own pleasant home, which she described to me more than once with enthusiasm. It was a great happiness to me to penetrate her studied reserve, and to gathei the conviction that she loved me as much as I loved her. Under the circumstances, I felt it to ibe my duty to us both to learn all that she had to tell me concerning her ipast. It could not possibly be anything that could reflect discredit upon herself, I urged, and if she would but admit me into her confidence, I might be alble to assist in fulfill-1 iHg the task she had set herself. "Eventually she told me all there was to tela. Her name was Kuth Mervvn, and she Was the only daughter of 'Mr. Ralph MeTvyrt, a retired manufacturer, who lived in one of .Surrey's lovely villages, " 'We lived an almost ideal life,' she said. 'My parents loved my brother James, and me devotedly,, ami we were equally fond of them, as well as of each other. James was rather headstrong at times, but he was the essence of goodheartedness, and no- one dreamt that ne ( would ever become estranged from his home and family, still less that the, estrangement would arise through me. Yet so it was, and I began to- be afraid that 'I shall never be aible to set matters straight, since I have failed to come across the two men I came out to thp Crimea to find. The son of one of our neighbors became a suitor of mine, ami I, well, I was little more than a child, and did not know my own heart;- I thought I loved 'him, and I 'promised to marry him, my parents giving their cordial consent to the match. " 'But my brother did not trust my intended husband. He had heard some nasty rumors about him, and took tire trouble to rectify Km, with the result that the hero of "them was proved' to bea man of such a treacherous and depraved nature that it was impossible forme to marry him or even to retain a shred of respect for liim. "'When next he came to see me I quietly gave him his freedom again, and •begged him to marry Bessie Williams. He had befooled her 'with a promise oi marriage, and he was the father of her child. But so far from being willing to do the girl tardy justice, he cursed her 1 violently, and swore to be revenged upon the man who had laid'his deceitful past open to me. "'•My parents fully approved of what James* and I had done, but they poohpoohed any ideas of rengeance on my ilover's ipart. '"He is evidently of a fickle, changeable nature," said' my father, "and as soon as the passion is off him he will fancy himself in love with someone else."

"But we little knew the man with whom we had to deal, and had bitter cause to regret our over-confidence. Six months had barely passed when we felt the ful power of his vengeance. A daring theft of jewellery took place at n hotel at which my brother was staying, and, incredible as' it seemed, all the circumstantial evidence pointed to him as the thief. One of the stolen rings was even found in his room. "'Then came a terrible time for us. James was arrested, but, yielding to panic, and believing in the certainty of conviction, managed to make his escape and leave the country. " 'Between the anxiety as to James' fate, and the disgrace which hung over him, we were alii very miserable, but were cheered immensely iby a letter we received from him after several months.

"'"I know-you would never believe me contemptible enough to steal a ease of jewellery," lie wrote, "but I despair of ever being able.to prove my innocence. I know who swore to be revenged upon me for disclosing his real character to Ruth. He was .staying at the Eastbourne Hotel when I was there, and the triumphant look on his face when he witnessed my arrest revealed my betrayer to me' at once. I know as surely as if I had seen him do it that it was he who planted that cursed ring in my room, and then set the p&tice on my

track.. But I cannot hope to convince anyone but yourselves of the truth of ray suspicion's,. and I shall never come hack to England until my name is cleared from Ihe unmerited disgrace which lies upon it. I have enlisted for the Crimea under a fictitious name, which I had better keep secret awhile longer." " 'There was much more than this in tho letter, and though it was heartbreaking to think of our dear one undergoing privation, danger-and disgrace, it was comforting to be reassured of his innocence, and to know that he was well. We all regretted, however, that we had not known all the particulars of the case from the first. They might have proved his innocence, whereas his illadvised silence and flight had but served to strengthen the belief in his guilt, and divert suspicion from the real offender, of whose identity we no longer entertained a doubt.

'"As for the latteT, he had vanished from the neighborhood. His father had been presumed wealthy, but was recently bankrupt, and there' was much talk about swindling and fraud, for which the old man narrowly escaped imprisonment. The son had not been brought up in the expectation of having to earn his own living, and when the climax came he enlisted. When last we heard of him. the news was to the effect that he had been shipped to the Crimea,

" 'Since then I have had but one desire. I went to the Crimea hoping to discover my brother, though I knew that it might be difficult to do so, since he had enlisted under a name not known to me. I also wanted to find the man to whom he owed his exile, for I was not without hope that I might persuade the latter that his -vengeance had already been sufficiently complete, and that it was his duty to proclaim my brother's innocence. As you know, my mission has utterly failed, and 1 am taking no comfort home to my unhappy parents.' "While Ruth was thus laying bare her heart before me, I was seized with a curious conviction that I had it in my power to put an end to her perplexities, though it was possible that the news I had to impart would add to her grief. One of the dying messages delivered to me was a protestation of innocence. The other was a virtual admission of guilty revenge. Both were addressed to the father of the dying soldier, and both fathers were living in one village. Could it be possible that they and the people of whom Ruth had been speaking were all identical? A few questions would doubtless solve the mystery.

""Listen,' I said, yielding somewhat I to the excitement of conviction which I 'had seized me. 'I ako have a story to tell. We will see if it bears any relation to yours. During the passage to | Scutari two dying soldiers gave me their last messages'. "Tell my father," said one, "that as there is a God in Heaven, I am innocent of the contemptible crime attributed to me." "Tell my father," said the other, "that the case is under, the pear-tree in a tin box>, and that if the time could come over again I would at once more avenge myself on the man who has wrecked my life."

"'Now, both men hailed from one village, the very village in which you say you have lived nearly all your life. - In the trouble and confusion of that awful voyage I mixed the messages up, and even yet I cannot tell you which man professed to be innocent and which guilty. But I meant to liave done my best to atone for my stupidity on my arrival in England, even though the only addresses I had were "My fatber, in Ayrford, Surrey." "During this speech of mine Ruth had risen to her feet, and, putting her hands on my shoulders, .stood looking at me with an expression in her eyes in which joy was strongly mingled with grief. " 'Our darling James is dead,' she said, irrepressible sobs choking her utterances as she spoke. 'You yourself have said it. But we would rather know James dead than disgraced. There need be no more fear of delivering your messages to the wrong people. Walter Blake '

" 'Blake ? Yes, Private Blake was one of the men.'.

"'I 'knew it! Well, Walter Blake had no need to protest his innocence, since no one had accused him of being guilty.' And if James Mervyn had really, been guilty he would have 'known better than to attempt to share the guilt with an ftonoraible man like my father, who is very different to the scamp old Mr. Blake had been proved to be. Apart from this, Walter Blake's message lo- J eates itself. We have a good deal of, fruit, bui not one pear tree. Mr. Blake's garden boasts the finest jargonelle in the country.' There could no longer be any doubt. My perplexity respecting the messages was at an end, and 'Ruth's mission w»s ail but fulfilled. She no longer refused me the right to .comfort her, and it was irr my company, as my affianced wife, that she told all there was to tell to her sorrowing father and mother. But before leaving Southampton I had taken | the precaution to wire full particulars to the vicar and the local police. I considered it advisable that the search for the missing jewel case should be made in the presence of the vicar before our advent on the spot. "The jewels were found under Mr. Blake's pear tree, and there was soon no longer any questions a* to who had been responsible for the theft. After his exposure, Mr. Blake deemed it advisable to leave the neighborhood, but, although he was a 'bankrupt, he had feathered his nest pretty well, and was still in comfortable circumstances, for some of his dishonestly-gained capital' had been invested in his wife's name ro the sorrow and discomfiture of his creditors. But it is hardly likely that he was happy, for he could scarcely ifail to grieve for the son who was so like .him in disposition. "'lf only poor James has survived,' said Mrs. Mervyn sadly, to me one day, 'how happy we might all have been! Are you quite sure he is dead?' " 'Well, 'I did not see him after death, as was the case with Private Blake, but his condition was hopeless, and a 'brother practitioner told me afterwards that he was dying.' " 'But none ever told you that he was dead?'

" Wo; there was unfortunately no need.'

" 'But while there is life there is hope, and he may not have died after all. Are there no nieans of finding out?' " "Yes; we can make assurance doubly sure by consulting the lists of dead and wounded at the Admiralty. Sergeant Monlton's name will, T fear, figure in both.'

"I was reluctant to re-awaken fruitless hopes. But I was ready and willing to do anything for the sorely-tried mother. I therefore journeyed up to town, and spent a long time at the Admiralty. But, though 1 found Sersreant Moulton's name in the 'list, of wounded, it wa=- not in the list of the dead. Greatly astonished, I made further search and enquiries, and ultimately learned that he had made a miraculous though tedious recovery. Indeed, he was even invalided to England, and was in hospital at Xetley. You may picture his joy when I visited him, and told him all there was to telll. And you may imagine how enraptured his parents and sister were, when he was restored to them, still weak it is true, but proud and happy at the thought of being able to come back openiy to his native place, and accept the good wishes and congratulations of all his old friends.

and T .postponed our wedding until James was strong enough to officiate as best man. He had gone through a great deal, ibut had, nevertheless, not had enough of the army. He remained in it from choice, though no longer as a non-com, He is now a lieutenant-col-onel on Balf-pay, and it is questionable who enjoys his tales of hair-breadth' escapes most—-himself or his charming wife. The ©ld .people have ling since paid the debt of Nature. They died' as they had lived—serenely, <beautifuMy—knowing no fear of the future, nor any regrets for the past. :As for Ruth' and myseilf, it is good to be able to say that all is well with us, and with our children."