The Complete McAuslan. George Fraser MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ were due to leave the Island, two of them came down with one of those bugs which inhabit melons in foreign parts and give you gyppy tummy, or as they call it in India, Delhi Belly. They were packed off to bed and I read the others a lecture on the perils of overindulgence. It was good, strong stuff, and so influenced me personally that I declined to join Lieutenant Samuels in the celebratory dinner which he tried to press on me at the Officers’ Club that night.

      I regarded him with distaste. “Why aren’t you out sinking submarines or something?”

      “This is peace-time, boyo,” said he. “Anyway, we’re gettin’ a refit; we’ll be yere for weeks. I can stand it, I’m tellin’ you.” I doubted whether he could; the gin was obviously lapping against his palate and his complexion was like a desert sunrise. He insisted loudly on buying me a drink at least, and I was finishing it and trying not to listen to his gloating account of how he would spend the filthy amount of money he had won, when I was called to the ’phone.

      It was the Governor, excited but brisk. “MacNeill,” he said, “How’s your team?”

      Wondering, I said they were fine.

      “Excellent, capital. I think I can arrange another game for them, farewell appearance, y’know. That all right with you?”

      I was about to mention the two men in hospital, and that we wouldn’t be at full strength, but after all, we were here to play, not to make excuses. So I said, “Splendid, any time”, and before I could ask about our opponents and the where and when, he had said he would ring me later and hung up.

      Samuels, now fully lit, was delighted. “It never rains but it pours,” he exclaimed gleefully. “Send it down, David. Let’s see, put a packet on your boys—who they playin’? doesn’t matter—collect on that, crikeee, Jocko, what a killin’! I’ll plank the bet first thing … trouble is, they’re gettin’ to know me. Ne’mind, I’ll get my clerk to put it on, he can go in mufti.” He crowed and rubbed his hands. “Luv-ley little pongoes; best cargo I ever had!”

      It seemed to me he was taking a lot for granted; after all, our opponents might be somebody really good. But we’d beaten the best in the Island, so he probably couldn’t go wrong.

      So I thought, until I heard from the Governor’s aide late that night. “Two-thirty, at the Stadium,” he said. “Full uniform for you, of course, and do see, old man, that your Jocks are respectable. Can’t you get them to wear their hats on the tops of their heads? They tend rather to look like coalmen.”

      “Sure, sure. Who are we playing?”

      “Mmh? Oh, the other lot? The Fleet.”

      For a moment I didn’t follow. He explained.

      “The Fleet. The Navy. You know, chaps in ships with blue trousers.” He began to sing “Heart of Oak”.

      “But … but … but,” I said. “That’s like playing the Army. I mean, there are thousands of them. They’ll be all-professional … they’ll murder us … they …”

      “That’s what the Admiral thought,” said the aide, “but our Chief wouldn’t see it. Got rather excited actually; they’re still arguing in there; can’t you hear ’em? Amazing,” he went on, “how the Chief’s manner changes when he gets worked up about a thing like this; he sounds positively Scotch. What’s a sumph, by the way?”

      I wasn’t listening any longer. I was sweating. It wasn’t panic, or the fear of defeat. After all, we had done well, and no one could expect us to hold the Navy; we would just have to put on a good show. I was just concentrating on details—get the boys to bed quickly, two men in hospital, choose the team, balance it as well as possible. I ran over the reserves: Beattie, Forbes, McGlinchy, myself … Lord, the Fleet! And I had 14 to choose from. Well, barring miracles, we would lose. The Governor would be in mourning; that was his hard luck, if he didn’t know better than to pit us against a side that would be half First Division pros, and possibly even an internationalist. Suddenly I felt elated. Suppose … oh, well, we’d give them something to remember us by.

      I simply told the boys at bed-time who they were playing, and they digested it, and the corporal said:

      “Aw-haw-hey. Think they’re any good, sir?”

      “Not as good as we are.”

      “We’re the wee boys,” said the corporal, and the wee boys cried “Way-ull,” mocking themselves. They were pleased at the thought of another game, that was all. I doubt if their reaction would have been different if their opponents had been Moscow Dynamo or the Eye Infirmary.

      The corporal and I pored over the team all morning; the one doubtful spot was left wing, and after much heart-searching we fixed on McGlinchy, but the corporal didn’t like it. He at least knew what we were up against “an’ we cannae afford a passenger. If Ah thought he’d wake up mebbe half the match, O.K., but no’ kiddin’, sir, yon yin’s no’ a’ there.”

      “He’s all we’ve got,” I said. “Beattie’s a half-back, and I’m just not good enough. It’s got to be McGlinchy.”

      “Aye, weel,” said the corporal, “that’s so. But by half-time I’ll bet we’re wishin’ we’d picked … McAuslan, even.”

      In the unlikely event that we had been daft enough to do just that, we would have been disappointed. For when we embussed for the stadium McAuslan was mysteriously absent. We waited and swore, but he didn’t appear, so Beattie was detailed to run the touchline, and off we went. With any luck McAuslan had fallen in the harbour.

      The dressing-room was hot and sunny under the stand as we sat around waiting. The boys chewed gum and McGlinchy played “wee heidies” against the wall—nodding a ball against the partition like a boxer hitting a punch-ball. (“Close-mooth, tanner-ba’ merchant,” muttered the corporal.) Outside we could hear the growing rumble of the crowd, and then there was the peep of a whistle and the referee’s step in the passage, and the boys shifted and said, “Way-ull, way-ull,” and boots stamped and shorts were hitched, and outside a brass band was thumping out “Heart of Oak” and a great thunder of voices was rolling up as the Fleet came out, and the corporal sniffed and said:

      “Awright, fellas, let’s get stuck intae these matlows,” and I was left alone in the dressing-room.

      I went out by the street door and was walking along to the grandstand entrance when I came face to face with Samuels in the crowd that was still pouring into the ground. It was a shock: I hadn’t given him a thought since last night. Before I could say anything, he slapped me on the back, addressed me as Old Jocko, and said I was luv-ley.

      “Goin’ up to watch the slaughter?” he shouted. He was well ginned up. “The massacre of the innocents, hey?”

      “I like that,” I said. “You’ve won enough off them; you could at least show some sympathy.”

      “Who for?” he guffawed. “The other lot?”

      A horrible cold hand suddenly laid itself on the base of my spine.

      “The other lot,” I said. “You know who we’re playing?” “Been on the ship all mornin’, checkin’ stores,” he said, shaking his head. “Who’s the unfortunate party?”

      “Tell me,” I said carefully. “Have you put a bet СКАЧАТЬ