Part 1
THE BALLAD of ENSIGN JOY
By E.W. Hornung
E. P. Dutton & Company
1917
THE BALLAD of ENSIGN JOY
[Ill 0001]
[Ill 0007]
[Ill 9011] IS is the story of
````Ensign Joy
````And the obsolete
`````rank withal
````That I love for each gentle English
`````boy
````Who jumped to his country's
`````call.
````By their fire and fun, and the
`````deeds they've done,
````I would gazette them Second to
`````none
````Who faces a gun in Gaul!)
|IT is also the story of Ermyntrude
````A less appropriate name
````For the dearest prig and the
`````prettiest prude!
````But under it, all the same,
````The usual consanguineous squad
````Had made her an honest child
`````of God--
````And left her to play the game.
|IT was just when the grind of
`````the Special Reserves,
````Employed upon Coast Defence,
````Was getting on every Ensign's
`````nerves--
````Sick-keen to be drafted
`````hence--
````That they met and played tennis
`````and danced and sang,
````The lad with the laugh and the
`````schoolboy slang,
````The girl with the eyes intense.
|YET it wasn't for him that she
`````languished and sighed,
````But for all of our dear deemed
`````youth;
````And it wasn't for her, but her
`````sex, that he cried,
````If he could but have probed
`````the truth !
````Did she? She would none of his
`````hot young heart;
````As khaki escort he's tall and
`````smart,
````As lover a shade uncouth.
|HE went with his draft. She
`````returned to her craft.
````He wrote in his merry vein:
````She read him aloud, and the
````Studio laughed!
````Ermyntrude bore the strain.
````He was full of gay bloodshed and
````Old Man Fritz:
````His flippancy sent her friends
`````into fits.
````Ermyntrude frowned with
`````pain.
|HIS tales of the Sergeant who
`````swore so hard
````Left Ermyntrude cold and
`````prim;
````The tactless truth of the picture
`````jarred,
````And some of his jokes were
`````grim.
````Yet, let him but skate upon
`````tender ice,
````And he had to write to her twice
`````or thrice
````Before she would answer him.
|YET once she sent him a
`````fairy's box,
````And her pocket felt the brunt
````Of tinned contraptions and
`````books and socks--
````Which he hailed as "a sporting
`````stunt!"
````She slaved at his muffler none
`````the less,
````And still took pleasure in mur-
`````muring, "Yes!
````For a friend of mine at the
````Front.")
|ONE fine morning his name
`````appears--
````Looking so pretty in print!
````"Wounded!" she warbles in
`````tragedy tears--
````And pictures the reddening
`````lint,
````The drawn damp face and the
`````draggled hair . . .
````But she found him blooming in
````Grosvenor Square,
````With a punctured shin in a
`````splint.
|IT wasn't a haunt of Ermyn-
`````trude's,
````That grandiose urban pile;
````Like starlight in arctic altitudes
````Was the stately Sister's smile.
````It was just the reverse with
````Ensign Joy--
````In his golden greeting no least
`````alloy--
````In his shining eyes no guile!
|HE showed her the bullet that
`````did the trick--
````He showed her the trick,
`````x-ray'd;
````He showed her a table timed to
`````a tick,
````And a map that an airman
`````made.
````He spoke of a shell that caused grievous loss--
````But he never mentioned a certain
`````cross
````For his part in the escapade!
|SHE saw it herself in a list next
`````day,
````And it brought her back to his
`````bed,
````With a number of beautiful
`````things to say,
````Which were mostly over his
`````head.
````Turned pink as his own pyjamas'
`````stripe,
````To her mind he ceased to em-
`````body a type--
````Sank into her heart instead.
|I WONDER that all of you
`````didn't retire!"
````"My blighters were not that
`````kind."
````"But it says _you_ 'advanced un-
`````der murderous fire,
````Machine-gun and shell com-
`````bined--'"
````"Oh, that's the regular War
````Office wheeze!"
````"'Advanced'--with that leg!--
`````'on his hands and knees'!"
````"I couldn't leave it behind."
|HE was soon trick-driving an
`````invalid chair,
`````and dancing about on a crutch;
````The _haute noblesse_ of Grosvenor
````Square
````Felt bound to oblige as such;
````They sent him for many a motor-
`````whirl--
````With the wistful, willowy wisp of
`````a girl
````Who never again lost touch.
|THEIR people were most of
`````them dead and gone.
````They had only themselves to
````His pay was enough to marry
`````upon,
````As every Ensign sees.
````They would muddle along (as
`````in fact they did)
````With vast supplies of the _tertium
`````quid_
````You bracket with bread-and-
`````cheese.
`````please.
|THEY gave him some leave
`````after Grosvenor Square--
````And bang went a month on
`````banns;
````For Ermyntrude had a natural
`````_flair_
````For the least unusual plans.
````Her heaviest uncle came down
`````well,
````And entertained, at a fair hotel,
````The dregs of the coupled clans.
|A CERTAIN number of
`````cheques accrued
````To keep the wolf from the
`````door:
````The economical Ermyntrude
````Had charge of the dwindling
`````store,
````When a Board reported her
`````bridegroom fit
````As--some expression she didn't
`````permit . . .
````And he left for the Front once
`````more.
|HIS crowd had been climbing
`````the jaws of hell:
````He found them in death's dog-
`````teeth,
````With little to show but a good
`````deal to tell
````In their fissure of smoking
`````heath.
````There were changes--of course
`````--but the change in him
````Was the ribbon that showed on
`````his tunic trim
````And the tumult hidden be-
`````neath!
|FOR all he had suffered and
`````seen before
````Seemed nought to a husband's
`````care;
````And the Chinese puzzle of mod-
`````ern war
````For subtlety couldn't compare
````With the delicate springs of the
`````complex life
````To be led with a highly sensitised
`````wife
````In a slightly rarefied air!
|YET it's good to be back with
`````the old platoon--
````"A man in a world of men"!
````Each cheery dog is a henchman
`````boon--
````Especially Sergeant Wren!
````Ermyntrude couldn't endure his
`````name--
````Considered bad language no lien
`````on fame,
````Yet it's good to--hear it
`````again!
|BETTER to feel the Ser-
`````geant's grip,
````Though your fingers ache to
`````the bone!
````Better to take the Sergeant's tip
````Than to make up your mind
`````alone.
````They can do things together, can
````Wren and Joy--
````The bristly bear and the beard-
`````less boy--
````That neither could do on his
`````own.
|BUT there's never a word
`````about Old Man Wren
````In the screeds he scribbles
`````to-day--
````Though he praises his N.C.O.'s
`````and men
````In rather a pointed way.
````And he rubs it in (with a knitted
`````brow)
````That the war's as good as a pic-
`````nic now,
````And better than any play!
|HIS booby-hutch is "as safe
`````as the Throne,"
````And he fares "like the C.-in-
````Chief,"
````But has purchased "a top-hole
`````gramophone
````By way of comic relief."
````(And he sighs as he hears the
`````men applaud,
````While the Woodbine spices are
`````wafted abroad
````With the odour of bully-beef.)
|HE may touch on the latest
`````type of bomb,
````But Ermyntrude needn't
`````blench,
````For he never says where you hurl
`````it from,
````And it might be from your
`````trench.
````He never might lead a stealthy
`````band,
````Or toe the horrors of No Man's
````Land,
````Or swim at the sickly stench. . . .
|HER letters came up by
`````ration-cart
````As the men stood-to before
`````dawn:
````He followed the chart of her
`````soaring heart
````With face transfigured yet
`````drawn:
````It filled him with pride, touched
`````with chivalrous shame.
````But--it spoilt the war, as a first-
`````class game,
````For this particular pawn.
|THE Sergeant sees it, and
`````damns the cause
````In a truly terrible flow;
````But turns and trounces, without
`````a pause,
````A junior N. C. O.
````For the crime of agreeing that
````Ensign Joy
````Isn't altogether the officer boy
````That he was four months ago!
|AT length he's dumfounded
`````(the month being May)
````By a sample of Ermyntrude's
`````fun!
````"You will kindly get leave _over
````Christmas Day_,
````Or make haste and finish the
````But Christmas means presents,
`````she bids him beware:
````"So what do you say to a son and
`````heir?
````I'm thinking of giving you
````Hun!"
|WHAT, indeed, does the
````Ensign say?
````What does he sit and write?
````What do his heart-strings drone all day?
````What do they throb all night?
````What does he add to his piteous
`````prayers?--
````"Not for my own sake, Lord, but
`````--_theirs_,
````See me safe through ..."
|THEY talk--and he writhes
`````--"of our spirit out here,
````Our valour and all the rest!
````There's my poor, lonely, delicate
`````dear,
````As brave as the very best!
````We stand or fall in a cheery
`````crowd,
````And yet how often we grouse
`````aloud!
````She faces _that_ with a jest!"
|HE has had no sleep for a day
`````and a night;
````He has written her half a
`````ream;
````He has Iain him down to wait for
`````the light,
````And at last come sleep--and a
`````dream.
````He's hopping on sticks up the
`````studio stair:
````A telegraph-boy is waiting there,
````And--that is his darling's
`````scream!
|HE picks her up in a tender
`````storm--
````But how does it come to pass
````That he cannot see his reflected
`````form
````With hers in the studio glass?
````"What's wrong with that mir-
`````ror?"' he cries.
````But only the Sergeant's voice
`````replies:
````"Wake up, Sir! The Gas--
`````the Gas!"
|IS it a part of the dream of
`````dread?
````What are the men about?
````Each one sticking a haunted
`````head
````Into a spectral clout!
````Funny, the dearth of gibe and
`````joke,
````When each one looks like a pig
`````in a poke,
````Not omitting the snout!
|THERE'S your mask, Sir! No
`````time to lose!"
````Ugh, what a gallows shape!
````Partly white cap, and partly
`````noose!
````Somebody ties the tape.
````Goggles of sorts, it seems, inset:
````Cock them over the parapet,
````Study the battlescape.
|ENSIGN JOY'S in the second
`````line--
````And more than a bit cut off;
````A furlong or so down a green
`````incline
````The fire-trench curls in the
`````trough.
````Joy cannot see it--it's in the bed
````Of a river of poison that brims
`````instead.
````He can only hear--a cough!
|NOTHING to do for the
````Companies there--
````Nothing but waiting now,
````While the Gas rolls up on the
`````balmy air,
````And a small bird cheeps on a
`````bough.
````All of a sudden the sky seems full
````Of trusses of lighted cotton-wool
````And the enemy's big bow-
`````wow!
|THE firmament cracks with
`````his airy mines,
````And an interlacing hail
````Threshes the clover between our
`````lines,
````As a vile invisible flail.
````And the trench has become a
`````mighty vice
````That holds us, in skins of molten
`````ice,
````For the vapors that fringe the
`````veil.
|IT'S coming--in billowy swirls
`````--as smoke
````From the roof a world on fire.
````It--comes! And a lad with a
`````heart of oak
````Knows only that heart's de-
`````sire!
````His masked lips whimper but one
`````dear name--
````And so is he lost to inward shame
````That he thrills at the word:
````"_Re-tire!_"
|WHOSE is the order, thrice
`````renewed?
````Ensign Joy cannot tell :
````Only, that way lies Ermyntrude,
````And the other way this hell!
````Three men leap from the pois-
`````oned fosse,
````Three men plunge from the para-
`````dos,
````And--their--officer--as well!
|NOW, as he flies at their fly-
`````ing heels,
````He awakes to his deep dis-
`````grace,
````But the yawning pit of his shame
`````reveals
````A way of saving his face:
````He twirls his stick to a shep-
`````herd's crook,
````To trip and bring one of them
`````back to book,
````As though he'd been giving
`````chase!
|HE got back gasping--
````"They'd too much start!"
````"I'd've shot 'em instead!"
`````said Wren.
````"That was your job, Sir, if you'd
`````the 'eart--
````But it wouldn't 've been you,
`````then.
````I pray my Lord I may live to see
````A firing-party in front o' them
`````three!"
````(That's what he said to the
`````men.)
|NOW, Joy and Wren, of
`````Company B,
````Are a favourite firm of mine;
````And the way they reinforced A,
````C, and D
````Was, perhaps, not unduly fine;
````But it meant a good deal both to
````Wren and Joy--
````That grim, gaunt man, but that
`````desperate boy!--
````And it didn't weaken the Line.
|NOT a bad effort of yours,
`````my lad,"
````The Major deigned to declare.
````"My Sergeant's plan, Sir"--
````"And that's not bad--
````But you've lost that ribbon
`````you wear?"
````"It--must have been eaten away
`````by the Gas!"
````"Well--ribbons are ribbons--
`````but don't be an ass!
````It's better to do than dare."
|DARE! He has dared to de-
`````sert his post--
````But he daren't acknowledge
`````his sin!
````He has dared to face Wren with
`````a lying boast--
````But Wren is not taken in.
````None sings his praises so long
`````and loud--
````With look so loving and loyal
`````and proud!
````But the boy sees under his
`````skin.
|DAILY and gaily he wrote to
`````his wife,
````Who had dropped the beati-
`````fied droll
````And was writing to him on the
````Meaning of Life
````And the Bonds between Body
`````and Soul.
````Her courage was high--though
`````she mentioned its height;
````She was putting upon her the
````Armour of Light--
````Including her aureole!
|BUT never a helm had the lad
`````we know,
````As he went on his nightly raids
````With a brace of his Blighters, an
````N. G O.
````And a bagful of hand-grenades
````And the way he rattled and
`````harried the Hun--
````The deeds he did dare, and the
`````risks he would run--
````Were the gossip of the Bri-
`````gades.
|HOW he'd stand stockstill as
`````the trunk of a tree,
````With his face tucked down
`````out of sight,
````When a flare went up and the
`````other three
````Fell prone in the frightening
`````light.
````How the German sandbags, that
`````made them quake,
````Were the only cover he cared to
`````take,
````But he'd eavesdrop there all
`````night.
|MACHINE-GUNS, tapping
`````a phrase in Morse,
````Grew hot on a random quest,
````And swarms of bullets buzzed
`````down the course
````Like wasps from a trampled
`````nest.
````Yet, that last night!
````They had just set off
````When he pitched on his face with
`````a smothered cough,
````And a row of holes in his chest.
|HE left a letter. It saved
`````the lives
````Of the three who ran from the
````Gas;
````A small enclosure alone survives,
````In Middlesex, under glass:
````Only the ribbon that left his
`````breast
````On the day he turned and ran
`````with the rest,
````And lied with a lip of brass!
|BUT the letters they wrote
`````about the boy,
````From the Brigadier to the
`````men!
````They would never forget dear
````Mr. Joy,
````Not look on his like again.
````Ermyntrude read them with dry,
`````proud eye.
````There was only one letter that
`````made her cry.
````It was from Sergeant Wren:
|THERE never was such a fear-
`````less man,
````Or one so beloved as he.
````He was always up to some daring
`````plan,
````Or some treat for his men and
`````me.
````There wasn't his match when he
`````went away;
````But since he got back, there has
`````not been a day
````But what he has earned a
````V. C
|A CYNICAL story? That's
`````not my view.
````The years since he fell are
`````twain.
````What were his chances of coming
`````through?
````Which of his friends remain?
````But Ermyntrude's training a
`````splendid boy
````Twenty years younger than En-
`````sign Joy.
````On balance, a British gain!
|AND Ermyntrude, did she
`````lose her all
````Or find it, two years ago?
````O young girl-wives of the boys
`````who fall,
````With your youth and your
`````babes to show!
````No heart but bleeds for your
`````widowhood.
````Yet Life is with you, and Life is
`````good.
````No bone of _your_ bone lies low!
|YOUR blessedness came--as
`````it went--in a day.
````Deep dread but heightened
`````your mirth.
````Your idols' feet never turned to
`````clay--
````Never lit upon common earth.
````Love is the Game but is _not_ the
````Goal:
````You played it together, body and
`````soul,
````And you had your Candle's
`````worth.
|YES! though the Candle light
`````a Shrine,
````And heart cannot count the
`````cost,
````You are Winners yet in its tender
`````shine!
````Would _they_ choose to have
`````lived and lost?
````There are chills, you see, for the
`````finest hearts;
````But, once it is only old Death
`````that parts,
````There can never come twinge
`````of frost.
|AND this be our comfort for
````Every Boy
````Cut down in his high heyday,
````Or ever the Sweets of the Morn-
`````ing cloy,
````Or the Green Leaf wither
`````away;
````So a sunlit billow curls to a crest,
````And shouts as it breaks at its
`````loveliest,
````In a glory of rainbow spray!
|BE it also the making of
````Ermyntrude,
````And many a hundred more--
````Compact of foibles and forti-
`````tude--
````Woo'd, won, and widow'd, in
````War.
````God, keep us gallant and unde-
`````filed,
````Worthy of Husband, Lover, or
`````--Child...
````Sweet as themselves at the
`````core!
End of Project Gutenberg's The Ballad of Ensign Joy, by E.W. Hornung