Four Feathers

W. Mason A. E.

Description

For centuries, presenting a comrade-in-arms with a feather was the ultimate censure and a stinging symbol of cowardice. When British soldier Harry Feversham decides to resign his post and leave the military, he is subjected to this humiliating ritual. Will his reputation ever be redeemed? Read The Four Feathers to find out.

Sujets

• Adventure (Guyana)
• Adventure

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775454380
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE FOUR FEATHERS
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A. E. W. MASON
 
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The Four Feathers First published in 1902 ISBN 978-1-775454-38-0 © 2011 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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The Four Feathers Chapter I - A Crimean Night Chapter II - Captain Trench and a Telegram Chapter III - The Last Ride Together Chapter IV - The Ball at Lennon House Chapter V - The Pariah Chapter VI - Harry Feversham's Plan Chapter VII - The Last Reconnaissance Chapter VIII - Lieutenant Sutch is Tempted to Lie Chapter IX - At Glenalla Chapter X - The Wells of Obak Chapter XI - Durrance Hears News of Feversham Chapter XII - Durrance Sharpens His Wits Chapter XIII - Durrance Begins to See Chapter XIV - Captain Willoughby Reappears Chapter XV - The Story of the First Feather Chapter XVI - Captain Willoughby Retires Chapter XVII - The Musoline Overture Chapter XVIII - The Answer to the Overture Chapter XIX - Mrs. Adair Interferes Chapter XX - West and East Chapter XXI - Ethne Makes Another Slip Chapter XXII - Durrance Lets His Cigar Go Out Chapter XXIII - Mrs. Adair Makes Her Apology Chapter XXIV - On the Nile Chapter XXV - Lieutenant Sutch Comes Off the Half-Pay List Chapter XXVI - General Feversham's Portraits Are Appeased Chapter XXVII - The House of Stone Chapter XXVIII - Plans of Escape Chapter XXIX - Colonel Trench Assumes a Knowledge of Chemistry Chapter XXX - The Last of the Southern Cross Chapter XXXI - Feversham Returns to Ramelton Chapter XXXII - In the Church at Glenalla Chapter XXXIII - Ethne Again Plays the Musoline Overture Chapter XXXIV - The End Endnotes
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To MISS ELSPETH ANGELA CAMPBELL June 19, 1902.
The Four Feathers
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[1]
Chapter I - A Crimean Night
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Lieutenant Sutch was the first of General Feversham's guests to reachBroad Place. He arrived about five o'clock on an afternoon of sunshinein mid June, and the old red-brick house, lodged on a southern slope ofthe Surrey hills, was glowing from a dark forest depth of pines with thewarmth of a rare jewel. Lieutenant Sutch limped across the hall, wherethe portraits of the Fevershams rose one above the other to the ceiling,and went out on to the stone-flagged terrace at the back. There he foundhis host sitting erect like a boy, and gazing southward toward theSussex Downs.
"How's the leg?" asked General Feversham, as he rose briskly from hischair. He was a small wiry man, and, in spite of his white hairs, alert.But the alertness was of the body. A bony face, with a high narrowforehead and steel-blue inexpressive eyes, suggested a barrenness ofmind.
"It gave me trouble during the winter," replied Sutch. "But that was tobe expected." General Feversham nodded, and for a little while both menwere silent. From the terrace the ground fell steeply to a wide levelplain of brown earth and emerald fields and dark clumps of trees. Fromthis plain voices rose through the sunshine, small but very clear. Faraway toward Horsham a coil of white smoke from a train snaked rapidly inand out amongst the trees; and on the horizon rose the Downs, patchedwith white chalk.
"I thought that I should find you here," said Sutch.
"It was my wife's favourite corner," answered Feversham in a quiteemotionless voice. "She would sit here by the hour. She had a queerliking for wide and empty spaces."
"Yes," said Sutch. "She had imagination. Her thoughts could peoplethem."
General Feversham glanced at his companion as though he hardlyunderstood. But he asked no questions. What he did not understand hehabitually let slip from his mind as not worth comprehension. He spokeat once upon a different topic.
"There will be a leaf out of our table to-night."
"Yes. Collins, Barberton, and Vaughan went this winter. Well, we areall permanently shelved upon the world's half-pay list as it is. Theobituary column is just the last formality which gazettes us out of theservice altogether," and Sutch stretched out and eased his crippled leg,which fourteen years ago that day had been crushed and twisted in thefall of a scaling-ladder.
"I am glad that you came before the others," continued Feversham. "Iwould like to take your opinion. This day is more to me than theanniversary of our attack upon the Redan. At the very moment when wewere standing under arms in the dark—"
"To the west of the quarries; I remember," interrupted Sutch, with adeep breath. "How should one forget?"
"At that very moment Harry was born in this house. I thought, therefore,that if you did not object, he might join us to-night. He happens to beat home. He will, of course, enter the service, and he might learnsomething, perhaps, which afterward will be of use—one never knows."
"By all means," said Sutch, with alacrity. For since his visits toGeneral Feversham were limited to the occasion of these anniversarydinners, he had never yet seen Harry Feversham.
Sutch had for many years been puzzled as to the qualities in GeneralFeversham which had attracted Muriel Graham, a woman as remarkable forthe refinement of her intellect as for the beauty of her person; and hecould never find an explanation. He had to be content with his knowledgethat for some mysterious reason she had married this man so much olderthan herself and so unlike to her in character. Personal courage and anindomitable self-confidence were the chief, indeed the only, qualitieswhich sprang to light in General Feversham. Lieutenant Sutch went backin thought over twenty years, as he sat on his garden-chair, to a timebefore he had taken part, as an officer of the Naval Brigade, in thatunsuccessful onslaught on the Redan. He remembered a season in Londonto which he had come fresh from the China station; and he was curious tosee Harry Feversham. He did not admit that it was more than the naturalcuriosity of a man who, disabled in comparative youth, had made a hobbyout of the study of human nature. He was interested to see whether thelad took after his mother or his father—that was all.
So that night Harry Feversham took a place at the dinner-table andlistened to the stories which his elders told, while Lieutenant Sutchwatched him. The stories were all of that dark winter in the Crimea, anda fresh story was always in the telling before its predecessor wasended. They were stories of death, of hazardous exploits, of the pinchof famine, and the chill of snow. But they were told in clipped wordsand with a matter-of-fact tone, as though the men who related them wereonly conscious of them as far-off things; and there was seldom a commentmore pronounced than a mere "That's curious," or an exclamation moresignificant than a laugh.
But Harry Feversham sat listening as though the incidents thuscarelessly narrated were happening actually at that moment and withinthe walls of that room. His dark eyes—the eyes of his mother—turnedwith each story from speaker to speaker, and waited, wide open andfixed, until the last word was spoken. He listened fascinated andenthralled. And so vividly did the changes of expression shoot andquiver across his face, that it seemed to Sutch the lad must actuallyhear the drone of bullets in the air, actually resist the stunning shockof a charge, actually ride down in the thick of a squadron to where gunsscreeched out a tongue of flame from a fog. Once a major of artilleryspoke of the suspense of the hours between the parading of the troopsbefore a battle and the first command to advance; and Harry's shouldersworked under the intolerable strain of those lagging minutes.
But he did more than work his shoulders. He threw a single furtive,wavering glance backwards; and Lieutenant Sutch was startled, and indeedmore than startled,—he was pained. For this after all was MurielGraham's boy.
The look was too familiar a one to Sutch. He had seen it on the faces ofrecruits during their first experience of a battle too often for him tomisunderstand it. And one picture in particular rose before hismind,—an advancing square at Inkermann, and a tall big soldier rushingforward from the line in the eagerness of his attack, and then stoppingsuddenly as though he suddenly understood that he was alone, and had tomeet alone the charge of a mounted Cossack. Sutch remembered veryclearly the fatal wavering glance which the big soldier had thrownbackward toward his companions,—a glance accompanied by a queer sicklysmile. He remembered too, with equal vividness, its consequence. Forthough the soldier carried a loaded musket and a bayonet locked to themuzzle, he had without an effort of self-defence received the Cossack'slance-thrust in his throat.
Sutch glanced hurriedly about the table, afraid that General Feversham,or that some one of his guests, should have remarked the same look andthe same smile upon Harry's face. But no one had eyes for the lad; eachvisitor was waiting too eagerly for an opportunity to tell a story ofhis own. Sutch drew a breath of relief and turned to Harry. But the boywas sitting with his elbows on the cloth and his head propped betweenhis hands, lost to the glare of the room and its glitter of silver,constructing again out of the swift succession of anecdotes a world ofcries and wounds, and maddened riderless chargers and men writhing in afog of cannon-smoke. The curtest, least graphic description of thebiting days and nights in the trenches set the lad shivering. Even hisface grew pinched, as though the iron frost of that winter was actuallyeating into his bones. Sutch touched him lightly on the elbow.
"You renew those days for me,