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About twenty minutes after the Germans had disappeared, something from the rear grabbed me by the foot. I nearly fainted with fright. Then a welcome whisper in a cockney accent. "I s'y, myte, we've come to relieve you." Wheeler and I crawled back to our trench, we looked like wet hens and felt worse. After a swig of rum we were soon fast asleep on the fire step in our wet clothes.
He took his place at the end of the file of men, and as he did so, the man in front of him, a fringe-haired, quick-eyed youth with a muffler round his neck, turned and greeted him. "'Illoa, myte!" he said with the cheery friendliness of the East End. "You come too, eih?" Gilbert answered, "Yes, I thought I might as well!" "Well 'ave to wyte a 'ell of a time," the Cockney went on.
"'E wasn't goin' to give hup 'is chawnce at the bleedin' myte, not 'im! 'E 'ad a score to settle with that blighter, so 'e 'ad. The Nigger could 'arve the bloomin' second myte, that's wot." Nigger was so incensed he got up and left the foc'sle, leaving the last word to the spy.
There were wild encounters. "Wot tcher, myte? Wot's yer amoosemint now?" "Silence, you evil liver, you gambler, you son of Belial!" "Stou thet now d'ye want a kepple er black eyes or a pench on the nowze?" At nine o'clock the police of Westminster, being unable to disperse the crowd, seat to Scotland Yard for the mounted constabulary.
At midday service in the church the brothers sang the Easter hymn, and a mighty longing took hold of John Storm for his own resurrection from his living grave. Next day there was much coming and going between the world outside and the adjoining cell, and late at night there were heavy and shambling footsteps, and even some coarse and ribald talk. "Bear a 'and, myte."
There was only the swift rattling of mail cars running to the Post Office, the heavy clank of country carts crawling to Covent Garden, the measured tread of policemen, and the muddled laughter of drunken men and women by the coffee stands at the street corners. "'Ow's the deluge, myte? Not come off yet? Well, give us a cup of cawfee on the strength of it."
They disappeared through a door at the back which led into a yard, for, like rats, the human vermin always have a second way out of their holes. In half a minute the cellar was nearly empty. Only the banker and the woman and one young man remained. The young man was Charlie. "What cheer, myte?" he said with an air of unconcern. "Is it trecks ye want, sir?
The old woman stood at her door wiping her eyes on her apron, and her son was behind with a face that was now red from other causes than drink and rage. "Good-bye, Mrs. Pincher; I may see you again soon." Hearing this, the young swaggerer stopped his step-dancing and cried: "What cheer, myte? Was it a blowter and a cup of cawfy?"
He looked up and greeted me with "I s'y, myte, want to tyke on?" I looked at him and answered, "Well, whatever that is, I'll take a chance at it." Without the aid of an interpreter, I found out that Tommy wanted to know if I cared to join the British Army. He asked me: "Did you ever hear of the Royal Fusiliers?" Well, in London you know.
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