Nobby E-Book

Edgar Wallace

• Herausgeber: Edgar Wallace
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

SMITHY sat on the canteen table swinging his legs, and all that was best, brightest, and most noble in the First Battalion of the Anchester Regiment sat round listening.The glow of sunset lingered in the sky, but blue dusk sat on the eastern side of the barrack square; where, in the shade of the tall oaks—those oaks that had waved and rustled just as bravely when Clarendon of the 190th was preparing the regiment for the Peninsular Wars—the low-roofed married quarters twinkled with lights.A bugle call interrupted the narrative of the raconteur; a sharp, angry, slurred call that sent two of the company at a jog trot to the guard-room.But the interruption furnished at once a text and an illustration for Private Smith.He addressed the audience generally, but mainly his remarks were directed toward the only civilian present.

Leseprobe

Edgar Wallace

Nobby

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Table of contents

I. — NOBBY'S BEST GIRL

II. — AUTHORSHIP

III. — PRIVATE CLARK'S WILL

IV. — ON ADVERTISING

V. — ON PROMOTION

VI. — NO. 2 MAGAZINE

VII. — SMITHY—AMBASSADOR

VIII. — HOGMANAY

IX. — ON FINANCE

X. — THE HEROES

XI. — THE COMPETITORS

XII. — UNCLE JOE'S TRACT

XIII. — THE BAA-LAMB

XIV. — NOBBY'S DOUBLE

XV. — THE FIGHTING ANCHESTERS

XVI. — SECRET SIGNS

XVII. — THE FAITH OF PRIVATE SIMPSON

I. — NOBBY'S BEST GIRL

SMITHY sat on the canteen table swinging his legs, and all that was best, brightest, and most noble in the First Battalion of the Anchester Regiment sat round listening. The glow of sunset lingered in the sky, but blue dusk sat on the eastern side of the barrack square; where, in the shade of the tall oaks—those oaks that had waved and rustled just as bravely when Clarendon of the 190th was preparing the regiment for the Peninsular Wars—the low-roofed married quarters twinkled with lights. A bugle call interrupted the narrative of the raconteur; a sharp, angry, slurred call that sent two of the company at a jog trot to the guard-room. But the interruption furnished at once a text and an illustration for Private Smith. He addressed the audience generally, but mainly his remarks were directed toward the only civilian present. "Bein' married is like bein' a defaulter," he explained, and was so struck with the sagacity of his reasoning chat he repeated it. "When a soldier breaks out of barracks, or talks in the ranks, or does those things within this Act mentioned," Smithy was quoting the Army Act, "along comes an officer and sez, 'Private What's-your-name, you will be confined to barracks for seven days' an' the poor young feller has to do extra drill an' extra fatigues, an' answers his name regular every half-hour. "It's very nice breakin' out of barracks," continued Smithy inconsequently, "an' so is courtin', but the end is the same. Up you come before some one or other, an' punishment is as sure as daylight. If a feller was to ask me which I'd prefer—to be married or to go to prison, I'd say 'prison' like a shot; because it's shorter an' not so crowded.' Here Smithy paused to ruminate. "You can never trust a woman," he continued bitterly. "A woman is like the bright green birds of paradise you buy in Petticoat Lane—all right till you've had 'em a day or two, and the natural-born sparrer begins to wear through. I'm not talkin' out of the back of my head, as you suggest, Tiny, but from my own blessed experience. "When the Anchesters went to Dabbington there wasn't a nicer, smarter, or more friendly company on the face of the earth than 'B' Company. Nice respectable fellers they were, more like brothers than comrades. It was 'Lend us a pipe of shag, ole boy,' an' 'Certainly, ole feller,' an' 'Do you mind my borrowin' your best boots to go an' meet my girl in?' an' 'Let me clean 'em for you, ole chap,' till all the rest of the regiment used to come an' look through the winders of our barrack room to see us bein' polite to each other. "It was the talk o' the battalion; they used to call us the Gentlemanly B's' till a chap from 'G' Company went an' spoilt it by callin' us the 'Pretty Pollies'. "You don't know Dabbington, do you? It's a little garrison town with seventeen chapels, an' a market day. It wasn't exactly lively. Every year there was two select concerts an' a magic lantern lecture on 'My Visit to Rome' by the curate, but it wasn't exactly dull There was a sort of prejudice against soldiers in some quarters, an' in other quarters there was a feelin' that the soldier ought to be rescued from sin. A feller named Rogers, a young feller with spectacles, used to run a sort of Rescue Home, where the troops could be kept out of the nice, bright, sinful public-houses by bein' given a cup of coffee and last week's  to read in a tin mission-hall. As a matter of fact, the public-houses in Dabbington wasn't so bright or lively, an' when young Mr. Rogers came round barracks an' began talkin' about the 'arty welcome, come-one, come-all, that was waitin' for us round the comer, Nobby Clark up an' sez 'We'll be round there to-night.' "Young Mr. Rogers was highly delighted, an' said if we got there by seven-thirty, we'd be in time for the bright little half-hour service that the proceedin's started with. "So me an' Nobby turns up soon after eight, an' there was Mr. Rogers waitin' to shake hands an' as pleased as Punch to see us, though a bit disappointed we hadn't come earlier. "'What have you let us in for?' I sez to Nobby as we walked in after Mr. Rogers. "'Close thy mouth,' sez Nobby, who always gets religious in a church. We was the only soldiers in the place, an' I felt a bit uncomfortable, but Nobby seemed to enjoy it. There was a lot of civilians present. Nice young ladies, an' young gentlemen in frock coats, an' they all got very friendly. One young gentleman with a very red face sez to Nobby: 'Brother, I extend the hand of friendship to you,' an' Nobby sez, 'Thank you, brother, the same to you.' "'I suppose,' sez the young gentleman, 'you don't often see bright faces round you?' "'Not so bright as yours,' sez Nobby, an' the young gentleman looked very 'ard at him. "Then Mr. Rogers made a speech an' said he welcomed these two young military men, an' hoped they would be the advance guard—he believed that was the military term (applause) of the Army element in Dabbington (Applause). "So then we played games. There was one game that two of the nicest young ladies knew, an' they offered to teach me an' Nobby. I picked it up at once; it was a silly sort of game, played on a lop-sided draught-board, an' one piece hopped over another piece. But Nobby couldn't seem to learn it at all, an' the two young ladies sat on each side of him, guiding his hand for half an hour, and even then he was still makin' mistakes. By an' by, Mr. Rogers came up to us an' asked Nobby if he could sing. Nobby said he'd got a cold, but he'd do his best, an' everybody started clappin'. One of the nice young ladies went to the piano an' Nobby leant over and hummed the tune to her for about ten minutes. It seemed to me that he kept on hummin' different tunes, but I might have been mistaken. "I was a bit nervous, for old Nobby only knows three songs, 'Who Wouldn't be a Lodger?' 'All Through Going to Margate on a Sunday,' an' a sentimental song about a girl an' a soldier. "I tell you I was a bit relieved when be said he couldn't sing without his music, an' promised to come another night. "I asked Nobby how he'd enjoyed hisself as we was goin' home, an' he said First class, in an absent-minded way. I forgot to tell you that her name was Miss Elder—the girl who taught him to play 'Hoppit,' an' played the piano. "Next day me an' Nobby went out of barracks an' strolled round town. When we came to a music shop Nobby sez, 'Hold hard, Smithy, let's go in an' buy a bit of music.' "'What for?' I sez, amazed. "'To sing,' sez Nobby. "'Don't waste your money,' I sez, but Nobby went in, an' I followed. There was a young lady behind the counter; she wore spectacles, too, an' she sez in a voice about the size of an orange pip: 'What can I do for you?' "'I want a song,' sez Nobby. 'A good religious song with easy words, for about fourpence.' The young lady shook her head. "I'm afraid we haven't got anything at that price,' she sez. 'Nothing under one an' fourpence.' "'Come away, Nobby,' sez I. ' Don't waste your money.' But Nobby wouldn't come. "'You ain't got anything that's a bit soiled or second hand, I suppose?' he sez, and the girl said she didn't think she had, but she'd look. "So she turned over a lot of music, an' every time she turned one over she said 'No' 'an 'I'm afraid not,' an' 'I'm sorry, but I don't think—' in her little voice  big as an orange pip. "By and by she stopped an' pulled out a sheet of music that was rather sunburnt about the edge. "'You can have this for fourpence, if it'll suit,' she sez. "'What's it called?' sez Nobby. "So she said some name that I couldn't catch. "'What's that?' sez Nobby, lookin' a bit disappointed. "'Ora pro nobis,' sez the young lady. It's Latin.' "Nobby shook his head. 'Give me one in English, please, miss. I haven't talked Latin for years.' "'But the song's in English,' said the girl. There are only three words in Latin.' "'How do you say 'em, miss?' asked Nobby, an' the young lady explained. "'Thanks, I'll take the song,' sez Nobby, brightenin' up; so he paid his fourpence an' we walked back to barracks. "We went over to the canteen an' found Fatty Morris, the chap that plays first cornet, an' asked his advice about learnin' the music, an' Fatty promised to run over it with Nobby the next day. "So, sure enough next afternoon we all went down into the back field, me an' Nobby, an' Fatty, an' started. "First of all Fatty run over the song by hisself, an Nobby practised the words a bit. By the time Fatty had got the song by heart an' had worked in two or three little trembly bits that wasn't in the music, all the chaps in barracks had strolled down to find out who was ill. Nobby pretended not to notice them, but they made him a bit nervous, an' when Fatty said he'd got the music all right, an' that Nobby could go ahead with the words, Nobby turned round to the crowd an' asked 'em what they wanted. "'We've come to hear the music,' said Spud Murphy, who was one of the fellers. 'What are  goin' to do?' "'I'm goin' to sing,' seZ Nobby, very short, an' Spud pretended to stagger back, an' all the other chaps got ready to run. "'Save the women an' children,' sez Spud, foldin' his arms. 'I'll be the last to leave the ship—to every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late, an' how can man die better than—' "'You close your face, Spud Murphy,' said Nobby, gettin' red. 'Nobody asked you to come here.' "But Spud took no notice of what Nobby said, an' continued to act the goat, an' there would have been a rough house, only at that minute Corporal Boyle happened to stroll up, an' asked Spud if he was the funny man on duty, an' told him to give the soft-sighing breezes a chance of making theirselves heard. So Spud took the hint an' dried up, an' Nobby, who was gettin' redder an' redder, started to practise. "Nobby's got a very nice, strong voice, but you could hear the cornet quite plain. "In a couple o' days he'd got the song off by heart, an' on the last day of the practice every chap in barracks went down into the playin' field to hear him. "Everybody was very curious to know where Nobby was going to sing, but we kept it dark. "Spud Murphy started a rumour that it was to be in the Albert Hall—but we kept it dark. "Then Spud Murphy an' a lot of other chaps—mostly of 'G' Company—'Dirty G,' we call 'em—said they'd foller us about till they found the place, an' for nearly a week me an' Nobby couldn't go out for a walk without twenty or thirty fellers walkin' behind in double rank. Wherever we went, they went. It got a bit monotonous, so I didn't blame Nobby when he slipped out of barracks once or twice without me an' went for a solitary ramble—so he said. Well, one night, off we went to the Soldiers' Rescue Home, an' the young ladies an' gentlemen were highly delighted to see us. "'I'm much obliged to you,' sez Mr. Rogers, for bringin' your gallant comrades with you,' pointing to Spud Murphy an' about twenty fellers who were standin' at the door, lookin' rather uncomfortable. "You see, they never suspected that Nobby was goin' to sing at a sort o' church, and they would probably have gone away, only young Mr. Rogers bagged 'em before they had a chance. "So they all come in, walkin' on tip-toe an' speakin' in whispers; but one of the young ladies—not our one —went down an' talked to 'em an' showed 'em how to play Hoppit.' "Then Nobby's turn came to sing, an' Miss Elder went to the piano. As a matter of fact, I began to get nervous myself, especially as I saw Spud an' the other fellers sittin' up with a grin. Nobby's voice is good enough, but there's a lot of it, an' what with singin' against a cornet an' singin' in the open air, I expected him to lift the roof off. "But lo! an' behold! he sang as soft as soft can be, an' I could see that Spud an' the other fellers were disappointed. It was a song about a kid who died in the snow, an' it brought tears into your eyes to hear Nobby sing 'Horror!' in a quavery voice. "After it was over everybody clapped, but I was lookin' at Spud. "'Did you see that?' whispers Spud, when Nobby did a bow. 'Did you see that?' he sez, when Nobby closed the young lady's music. 'Did you see that?' he sez fiercely, when Nobby handed the young lady down from the platform. I must confess I was a bit puzzled to know where Nobby got his manners from. But we soon found out. This Miss Elder come along to us by an' by, an' she asked Spud how he liked the song. Spud was a bit put out by her speakin' to him, an' grinned an' twisted his moustache, an' said in a haw-haw voice that it wasn't loud enough. "'Do you think so, Mr. Spud?' said the young lady, quite surprised. 'Why, I—' "'His name's Murphy,' interrupted Nobby, who was lookin' rather agitated. "'I'm sorry, Mr. Murphy; but do you really think so?' the young lady went on. 'Why, when he came—' "Nobby was very rude, for he interrupted the young lady again. "'Don't take any notice of what Spud—I mean Murphy—says, miss,' he said; but, somehow, Spud had got an idea, an' instead of takin' offence at what Nobby said, he went on talkin' to the young lady. "'Yes, miss?' he sez, politely. 'You was sayin' that when Mr. Clark came—' "And then it came out that Nobby had been goin' to Miss Elder's house to practise his songs in the evening. "'He's goin' to join the choir,' sez Miss Elder. "I looked at Nobby, very sad, for now I understood all about his 'solitary rambles.' "'Joined the choir, has he?' sez Spud. 'Well, miss, I should like to join the choir too'; an' all the other fellers said they'd like to join—all except little Billy Morgan, who was a bit afraid of Nobby, an' didn't like the way be was glarin' at him. "It's gospel truth," asserted Smith earnestly; "but before the end of the week half the bloomin' regiment applied to join the choir. You see, it came out that there was choir practice on Thursday and refreshments provided, and that all the nice young ladies in town were members. Fourteen men paraded at orderly room, and asked to be allowed to change their religion. "'What religion do you want?' sez the Colonel to young Jerry Jordan, an' Jerry said he didn't know exactly, but he thought it was the third chapel on the right as you went up the High Street. "'Next door to the little tobacco shop,' all the other fellers chimed in. "The Adjutant, who was standin' by, didn't say a word till the Colonel had gone, an then he sez, quiet— "'What's the little game?' and all the fellers said, one after another, 'Nothing, sir.' "'What's the attraction?' sez the Adjutant. 'Free drinks?' An' all the fellers said, 'No, sir,' very indignant. "'What is your present religion?' sez the Adjutant to Jerry. "'Follow the band, sir,' sez Jerry, meanin' Church of England. "'And yours?' "' Methodist, sir,' sez Private Cohen, a young feller from Whitechapel. "'I'm goin' to find out all about it—fall out!' sez the Adjutant. He found out soon enough, for in a week the regiment was singin' mad. 'F' Company was the bass company, because they wasn't so well fed as the others, an' consequently their voices was rumbly. 'A' Company was the tenor company, because they were mostly fat duty men.* As soon as ever parade was over, chaps used to get together an' start practisin', an' once, some fellers from 'H' got together under our windows at  an' sung, 'Awake, awake, put on your strength; put on your beautiful garments.' They got seven days C.B. for creatin' a disturbance in barracks. "All this time Nobby was gettin' thicker an' thicker with Miss Elder. She introduced him to her father an' mother an' family, an' Nobby used to go there to tea on Sundays, an' carry the books home after the service. An' Nobby stopped goin' to the canteen, an' sounded his aitches, an' bought a nail-brush. An' when they had choir practice at Miss Elder's house, Nobby would stay behind to help wash up the cups with Miss Elder. Me an' Spud Murphy volunteered to stay behind once, but Nobby wouldn't hear of it. He asked me as a great favour not to queer his pitch, an' he told Spud in private that if he ever volunteered again, there'd be trouble. "'I'm now a good Christian, leadin' the better life,' sez Nobby; 'but if I ever hear you talkin' about stayin' behind to wash up the cups, I'll knock bits off you, you putty-eyed blitherer.' "So Spud was persuaded to stay away. "The choir was a big success, although the young fellers at the chapel who resigned sooner than sit next to red-coats got very nasty, an' used to laugh when Nobby sang a solo (by request). I spoke to one of 'em about it, one night after chapel. "'You look after your singin', my good man,' he sez, very haughty. It was the red-faced young gentleman who welcomed us to the Soldiers' Rescue Home, an' he'd been very cool to me an' Nobby. We was walkin' along a quiet street when I up an' spoke to him. "'Look here!' he sez, very hot. 'Me an' several other young gentlemen have gone to a lot of trouble to rescue you fellers from sin, an' now you ain't satisfied with bein' rescued, but you must go an' monopolize our young lady friends, an' cold shoulder us out of the choir!' I didn't say anything for a while. 'Blessed feather-bed soldiers, I call you,' he said bitterly. 'Blessed namby-pamby soldiers. I call you!' "'Me?' I sez. "'Yes,' he sez, reckless. 'You, if you like.' "I didn't like to hit him, because I was afraid he'd cry; but I proved that I was no Christian, an' he told me I ought to be ashamed to use such language on a Sunday night. "Mind you," said Smithy impartially, "I'm not one to run down a soldier because he's a Christian. All these stories you hear about Christians havin' boots thrown at 'em because they say their prayers in the barrack-room is rot. It makes you uncomfortable to see a feller sayin' his prayers in public, an' it makes you feel uncomfortable to hear a feller blaspheme; but it's the same kind of uncomfortableness. "I chucked up the choir myself, because they found out that I couldn't sing—only eat an' drink at the choir practice, an', to tell you the truth, I was a bit sore with Nobby. So what with hints from Miss Elder about my voice, an' hints from Nobby about my appetite, I gave up goin'. But one day along comes Nobby, seemin' very excited. "'Come to choir practice to-night, Smithy,' he sez. "'Thanks,' I sez, rather cold; 'but I've had my tea.' "'Come along,' sez Nobby; 'there's goin' to be no end of a do to-night.' "'Thank you, Private Clark,' I sez haughtily; 'but I haven't forgotten your remarks about the currant cake.' "Anyway, he persuaded me. It seemed that Mrs. Elder was goin' to make some grand announcement to the choir, an' was givin' a sort o' stand-up supper to celebrate it, so I went along. "Nobby was a bit excited an' a bit mysterious, but I didn't take much notice, an' then he started askin' if he told me something whether I'd keep it dark. So I said 'Yes.' So he said, 'Will you take your dying oath?' I said 'Yes.' So after he told me I was the greatest friend that he had, an' that he'd break my jaw if I ever breathed a syllable, he let out that he was in love. Laugh! I thought I'd break a blood vessel. Nobby got very fierce, an' after sayin' a lot of unnecessary things, he asked me if I thought I was a gentleman, so I said 'No.' "He'd fallen in love with Miss Elder, an' was goin' to speak to her that night. This sobered me down a bit. 'She's much too good for you, Nobby,' I sez; 'she plays the piano, for one thing.' "It was a mad sort of idea, but Nobby seemed struck with it. He hadn't said a word to her about it, but he was goin' to take advantage of the party. "I must say that Mrs. Elder did the thing in style. Cake and thin bread an' butter, and jam. Mr. Elder belongs to the Chapel an' takes the plate round an' keeps a provision shop in the High Street. He was waitin' for us, smilin' and shakin' hands as friendly as possible. Mr. Rogers was there too, but he looked nervous. "After we'd had a hymn or so, and finished off the grub, Mr. Elder said he'd got a few words to say to his dear young friends. He said there was a time for eatin' an' a time for sleepin', a time for buryin' an' a time for givin' in marriage. Nobby said, 'Hear, hear,' before he could stop hisself, an' then looked out of the window, pretendin' it wasn't him. "'I have to announce the engagement of my dear daughter'—Nobby sat up straight, with his mouth open—'with our dear young friend and fellow-worker, Mr. Anthony Rogers.' "I didn't look at Nobby till we got outside. "We walked along for about a mile before he said a word. "'That's a woman!' he sez bitterly. 'After what I've done, too! Sat in a bloomin' choir, an' all the time I never once missed sayin' "Amen"' "He didn't say anything more for a long time, but he seemed to be thinking a lot, and whenever I looked at him he managed to turn his head away. I didn't like to press him, but presently he sez in a queer kind of voice— "'Washed the bloomin' cups, cut the cake, made the fire burn up, carried her books, an' sang anthems,' he sez after a bit. "We went into barracks together, an' turned down the road that leads to the canteen."