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Zurich Herald, 1954-04-08, Page 7THE LAST o- AROUND • e • A Complete Story by B. L. Jacot The corporal was sitting on the upturned edge of an empty grenade box with his chin in his hand. He watched two sap- pers slamming heavy chunks of timber home in the stony earth with some kind of a pneumatic rammer they were issued with for the purpose. They were speaking with a strong Glasgow accent, and that accent in this place seemed all wrong to the corporal. Corporal King was a Londoner, from Ac- ton . . . but he could not have told you why he knew by some sort of instinct that the accent was wrong for this place. It was a windy sort of autumn day with lazy clouds drifting across a strtch,of deep blue sky. The mountains and the sharp - looking forests of pine looked as if they had been caught in an unwary moment and pinned by time. The place looked fixed and incapable of movement, like a picture postcard. But there was movement • surely enough: and menace, too. A phoney set-up. Big yellow and blue Korean butterflies drifted over the gorse-like•sort of blossom' on the shrubs and little brown bees Iike bullets whanged through the scented air. It Didn't Make Sense Sometimes the hills looked so close you could reach out your arm and touch them. Sometimes they looked as far away as the mountains of the moon. Near Or far, they looked peaceful, yet in this valley the mortars and the guns were ready and waiting. Rocket batteries and flame-throwers, too. They had everything here and yet all the natural things like the bees and the birds did not know it. It didn't make sense to the cor- poral. A droning sound filled the air a busy, prosperous, peace- time sound of a swamill. A long, whining crescendo — then peri- od. Whee-ee-eeyee-ee — y o n k. Silence, then repeated. "The Americans have every- thing," the corporal was think- ing. "They even have a sawmill up here in the front line to cut the timber and build the strong- point stronger. . . " Corporal King got to his feet. He had been puzzled ever since he got out here and the set-up of war troubled him. He was a man with a simple mind. In- stinctively, he knew he had not much mental scope — his intel- ligence was limited and he had to make the best of what he had, so he liked to get things straight in his mind. He liked to know what he was dealing with, and something about this business here did not make sense. At various strong -points round these hills you had clusters of men ready to tear the guts out out of any living thing on the other side. The side they were fighting against. But it all de- pended which side that was. Who decided which was which? It worried the corporal. He got up from his box as the Glasgow boys went on to work at another point. "You all right down there, Ginger?" he called; and a voice answered him, im- politely. "All right, all right!" the coropral said: he was in charge of these men. "Hold everything till I get back, I'in taking a last look round before the sergeant comes along." "Okay, cholly" a voice said, and the corporal rubbed his palms over his thighs to get rid of the sweat and picked up his automatic rifle. The emplacement was well camouflaged at the edge of a wood, and the corporal follow- ed a track winding along the side of the valley. He knew he could get away for half an hour or so by himself, as he liked to do. Nothing much had hap- pened in this sector for weeks. You would never think there were hundreds of men in the valley with their mortars point- ed and the flame-throwers set up. The only sound now was the chug -chug of the American por- table diesels giving the power for the pneumatic. There was not much risk of meeting the enemy in these slopes and the corporal doubted if he would even be fired at if seen. Never- theless, he kept his eyes skin- ned. When you got away from the rest of the boys and you had only the trees and things round you the place got more real — or so the corporal thought. He came to the place where once there had been a wooden bridge over the gully and look- ed round carefully before tight- roping the single plank. The pines closed in on him now and the war seemed a hundred miles away. You might be anywhere in these trees. As he climbed, the pines gave way to cedars on the more open slopes, then carne the rocky valley he had stumbled on a few weeks ago. The cedars seemed to roof a little world of their own, and the corporal liked to find his way here to 'this secluded spot, and sit and think about things. For it was here he had chanced on the cave. Here were the stream and the cedars ... and the cave that was part of the mountains it- self. There had been someone living in the cave for a very long time — the corporal knew this, but he couldn't have told you how he knew it. He had found the place one afternoon when he had lost himself on a patrol — the broken bridge with the single plank across the gully. And he had come to the. cedars and the rocks in the lit- tle hidden valley, and for the first time he had sat down In the cave. Peace And Quiet In fact, the corporal spent the night there. He was there and he 'was weary, so he stayed.. He entered . the cave, now and unslung the automatic weapon. from his shoulder. The sand was soft under his feet and the sense of peace and well-being immediately made itself felt. It felt good to be in this place It felt like when a noise that has been hammering at your head for hours suddenly stopped. The quiet that comes is almost beyond belief. So was the peace and quiet of this place. The corporal's eyes went quickly over the cave. Even he knew enough to realize that this had been the cave of a holy man. It was filled with a greenish light and all there was to see was. the shelf that had been a sleeping place, the stretch of sand, and the other ledge that was like an altar be- fore the fiat slab of rock. On the rockface was the picture some- one had painted. It was that, that really ook hold of you — the picture. A long time ago someone had tak- en a lifetime trying to put what he thought about things into the picture . . . and anything like that is bound to have something: Whatever that something was it reached out and gathered you in. The picture showed you trees in the scratchy Chinese way and temples and little bridges and clouds with the birds sailing on . . . nothing that you could not see for yourself if you looked round those hills. But you could tell the man who did the paint- ing was a holy man who had Anything For A Smoke — A news messenger in Paris, France, tries an old oriental system to keep the rain off his cigiaret. Dust Dance — Farms weren't the only things that took a beating in the recent Texas dust storm. High winds (65 m.p.h.) twisted this Seventh Day Adventist Church in Fort Worth and sent the chairs skyward. The' roaring winds picked up everything that wasn't anchored securely. White specks in the picture are debris carried by the winds. got something you yourself hadn't. It was in - the picture, and the corporal liked to sit and look at the picture he had found. Kill — Or Be Killed Now he took the dead flowers out of the tin on the altar ledge and picked the celandines . he had gathered on the way along out of his hat. He arranged the flowers on the ledge. He would have shrunk in shame from the thought of be- ing seen by any of the others doing a thing like this, but the first time he put flowers in front of the picture there seemed to be nothing silly in the idea. He liked the picture; and the old chap who did it had taken a lot of pains, so to add a few flowers — well, why not? It made sense, anyway, when you got to sitting in the cave. The corporal settled down to think about things, this after- noon. He was thinking that sometimes you would see the birds like a cloud and one bird would be there and it would turn and the, whole sky would swing round to turn, too. And the same with sheep . some- times a sheep leading the rest would jump over nothing and then the' rest would jump aver nothing, too. You did what the sheep up in front did. But if you -lived by yourself like this old, holy man, and got away from the rest, you could think your own thoughts and live your own life in your own way and maybe see things dif- ferently — like in the picture. The corporal had got this far in the quiet of the afternoon when his blood suddenly froze, for he heard the sound of a step and a shadow fell over the en- trance to the cave. There was the .distinctive cap on the head and those stiff shoulder -boards. The corporal's disciplined re- action was immediate. In the face of the enemy you kill or you are killed. His scattergun ripped through the quiet, like a pagan trump out of hell, sending the echoes shrieking over the valley... . At the same moment the cor- poral saw the enemey's pistol blaze and a hammer blow struck him in the chest, so that two men fell together to lie in the sand of the cave. The incident 'had all the inevitable precision of ' war in which no act is re- vocable. But before the cor- poral died he had a moment of revealing light. What had been vaguely wor- rying him at the back of his mind was the half -formed thought that he did not remem- ber;,; gathering the little moun- tain pansies he had tipped out of the tin on the ledge. The thought had been there worry- izrg Khim a little as he sat. Now, in, his last moment, he knew 'MAW for he caught a• flash as he fell of the other man with they pistol in one hand and a newly gathered bunch of moun- _ tain pansies in the other.—From "Tit -Bits." WHO WAS THE IVIWRDERER OF THIS FAr' MER Farmer Jonathan May wrest- led with his startled horse as the two men lurking in the hedge sprang upon him. Before he could raise his crop to defend himself he was dragged from his mount and set upon. He col- lapsed on the ground half -stun- ned. No longer young, though .a powerful son of Devon, May was no match for two younger men. He shook off his stupor and gave battle to his assailants, but it was two to one, and the farm- er had dined well at the "White Hart," Moretonhampstead, after paying a visit to the fair. He fell again under a rain of blows, and rolled helplessly to where Jacob's Well poured its .little stream of clear water into the ditch. Two figures fled into. the night. Then all was still. A party of fourcame singing down a by -lane on the moor. They weremerry, for they, too, had been to the fair, had watched the wrestler Avery, had seen the thimble man do his tricks. Then, s u d d e n! y, cantering slowly down the lane towards them came a riderless horse. "Why, that's Jonathan May's horse!" exclaimed Nick Tavern- er. "So it is!" exclaimed his wife. "He must have had a drop and been thrown!" Nick Taverner mounted the horse and rode into Moreton- hampstead. He roused the land- lord of the "White Hart," and Mr. Moses Harvey, solicitor and crony of Farmer May. Thus it was that the dying farmer was found some hours later, foully battered by un- known assailants. "Go through every room in every lodging house. Question closely every man and woman of all this riff-raff which has in- fested our town for the fair," declared Attorney Moses Har- vey, "If I have to spend every penny piece of my fortune to do it, I'll bring the murderers of my poor friend to justice!" The two constables found xnore than one odd bird during their house -to -hoose connb-out. There e was, for example, the wrestler, Avery, a .doubtful character; and the drab with whom he travell- ed from fair to fair, Elizabeth Harris. When dawn broke the town lock-up was crowded. But it was a panic business and no evidence was forthcoming of the guilt of any of the detained people. Two months passed; then Avery the wrestler was convict- ed of a robbery and sent to pris- on. Elizabeth Harris, without any means of support, took to begging and thieving and was convicted and put in prison. One morning she asked to see the''prison governor. "Oh, sir," she began, "1 'ad a turrible nightmare in which the pore Farmer May did come to me and say 'e would strangle me if I didna tell all I knows." The govenor was all ears. This might well be it! The story was simple. Said Elizabeth: she had had a row with Avery that night, and left him and wandered forth, and there, by Jacob's Well, had actu- ally been crouching by the hedge as the two men committed the murder. "Do you know them?" asked the governor. "Oh, yes, sir, one was him they call Buckingham . Joe, t'other was Dick Turpin." One hundred pounds reward! Little groups read the notice outside the town police stations of every town in Southern Eng- land. A month passes. Two Hun- dred Pounds Reward! Still no arrest. And then Buckingham Joe, tall, fair, handsome and well- • dressed in bottle -green coat and yellow waistcoat, is arrested. A few days pass and then a vagrant, dossing in Deptford, is brought into Deptford police r' station for questioning. "Do you pass as Dick Turpin?" the sergeant asks him. "That's right, guv'nor," admits the undersized little man with but two teeth in his head and the appearance of a chronic down- and-out. "When were you last in Dev- onshire?" "Devonshire? Why, I never been in the place!" "Very well. Where were you last July?" "Ah, I knows wot, you want me for that murder." "What makes you think that?" "Why, there's that there re- ward notice right behind you, guv-nor." "But I said nothing about any murder." It was enough. Dick Turpin, so-called in derision, whose real name was Edmund Galley, and who made a wretched living about the racecourses, was post- ed down to Exeter. In the following July, together with Buckingham Joe, alias Tho- mas Oliver, he was put on trial at Exeter before Mr. Justice Williams. Now, there was little evidence against either prisoner, and all turned upon the statement of Elizabeth Harris. She stepped brazenly into the witness box, for so far all had gone well with her story and she had been let out of prison. But it was then that this dramatic exchange took place. Counsel: "What made you turn and follow Farmer May that night?" Elizabeth: "Nothing in .par- ticular." Counsel: "Did you speak to the prisoners? Did you raise an alarm, having witnessed the murder?" Elizabeth "They would have taken my Iife. I was frightened." Counsel: "You knew by giving this evidence you would be par- doned?" Elizabeth: "Oh, no. I never wished it." Judge: "Do you wish to put any questions to this witness, prisoners?" Galley (vehemently): "Can you look at me with a clear con- science and say you see me do that to this man?" Elizabeth: "I did. You know I did." Galley: "Did you ever see me with this man?"—pointing to the other occupant of the dock. Elizabeth: "Oh, yes—at Bridg- water fair, together you were." Galley (with great emphasis): "My Lord, she mistakes me fOr another man. I never was in Devonshire in my life till I was brought to this prison. God Al- mighty knows I am not the man!" Elizabeth; "I'm quite sure you're the man." Galley (to judge): "There, my lord, to gain her freedom she swears my life away. I never see that woman in my life" Judge to Elizabeth): "Wit- ness, attend. Have you any doubt as to the men you saw commit this murder?" Elizabeth: "None, my lord!" They say that a good charac- ter stands a man well in his hour of need. But neither of the men charged with the murder of Far- mer May had that. Both were rascals. Yet a rascal may have qualities that surpass in their ex- cellence those of men of blame- less life. Buckingham Joe was to prove this now. It was curious that so soon as Elizabeth Harris had identified Dick Turpin (Edmund Galley), other witnesses came forward tO support her evidence, not one or two, but a number. When Galley was called on for his defence, he struck his hands on the dock and cried in a loud voice: "I call on God to witness that I know no more about the murder than you, my lord. I do suffer here through false swear- ing, and by persons who know nothing of me and never saw me before. God knows that I am in- nocent. He will receive my soul!" During the trial the two men had not spoken to one another except that Galley had several times implored Buckingham Joe to tell the judge he did not know him at fila!, Now Buckingham Joe began his defence, He said: f°I've never before set eyes on this so-called Dick Turpin"—and there was contempt in his voice that he should be thought capable of as- sociating with such a scarecrow of a man. Both men were sentenced' tO death, It was a foregone conclu- sion. It was then that Buckingham Joe, scoundrel, highwayman and murderer, revealed one redeem- ing quality—a love of fair play. Pointing to the cowering Gal- ley beside him, then turning to the judge, grave beneath the black cap, he said in a loud voice: "You are innocent! It is now all over with us, but you will be hung innocent. My lord, you are not going to send an innocent man to his death? My lord, do you think if I was going out to do a deed like that I should take a weak little fellow like this for my companion?" The most sensational murder trial of the last century had come to an end. The two prisoners, one still protesting his innocence, were hustled from the dock. But Edmund Galley did not swing. His sentence was com- muted to transportation for life. Surely, a confession of Oficial doubts? Nor was that the end. In England, when dubious jus- tice is meted out in the criminal courts, there nearly always ap- pears a champion for the vic- tint: So it was now, when a great soul, Thomas Latimer, known as the Cobbett of the West, receiv- ed from the Australian penal settlement a pathetic letter f. om Galley. It convinced him that a miscarriage of justice had oc- curred, He began a campaign to secure the victim's release. And he fought until in the end he got the whole trial reviewed. The end, a belated but harpy one, came on a Friday evening, July 25, 1879, when the Home Secretary rose in the House of Commons and announced that Her Majesty had been pleased to grant a free pardon to Edmund Galley. What subsequently happened to Edmund Galley we do not know; nor do we know whether Elizabeth Harris ever paid the penalty of her terrible crime in forswearing herself in the matter of the Murder at Jacob's Well. --From an article in "Tit -Bits," by John England. British Shows Plans have been completed and arrangements are now well underway for a group of Cana- dians interested in agriculture and representing the Royal Ag- ricultural Winter Fair to visit Europe in June and July and to attend t h e Highland Show at Dumfries and the Royal Show at Windsor. The tour will be conducted by James . R. Johnston, secretary of the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair, Toronto, and the party will sail from Montreal aboard the Empress of France on June 15. The return trip will be aboard the Empress of Scotland, sailing from Liverpool. on July 30. "This is the first time a trip of this kind has been attempt- ed," Mr. Johnston pointed out. "Year after year more agricul- turists from Canada visit the continent and more exhibitors and visitors from the British Isles and Europe come, here to see the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair. As a result, we have received special invitations to attend the English and Scot- tish Royals and this is the rea- son an organized tour is being made. In all, approximately 25 persons will comprise the party although our total complement has not yet been filled." Old Smoky -- Holding one oil grandpa's favorite meerschaum pipes is pretty Gus Spelvin. Both Gus and the pipe were featured attractions at the National An tiques Show.