here. Their wounds are rotting, they are dying like animals." She
recognized the rising hysteria in her voice, and she cut herself off.
"Miss Camberwell. The train I am sorry. I sent it to you.
With supplies. Medicines. Another doctor. It left Dessie yesterday
morning, and passed the crossroads here yesterday evening on its way
down the gorge to Sardi-"
"Where is it, then?" demanded Vicky. "We must have it.
You don't know what it's like here."
"I'm sorry, Miss Camberwell.
The train will not reach you. It was derailed in the mountains fifteen
miles north of Sardi. Ras Kullah's men the Gallas were in ambush.
They had torn up the tracks, they have Fired everybody aboard and
burned the coaches." There was a long silence between them, only the
static hissed and buzzed across the wires.
"Miss Camberwell. Are you there?"
"Yes."
"Do you understand what
I am saying?"
"Yes, I understand."
"There will be no train." "No." Ras
Kullah has cut the road between here and Sardi."
"Yes."
"Nobody can reach you and there is no escape from Sardi up the railway
line.
Ras Kullah has five thousand men to hold it. His position in the
mountains is impregnable. He can hold the road against an army."
"We are cut off," said Vicky thickly. "The Italians in front of us.
The
Gallas behind us." Again the silence between them, then Lij Mikhael
asked, "Where are the Italians now, Miss Camberwell?"
"They are almost at the head of the gorge, where the last waterfall
crosses the road-"
She paused and listened intently, removing the receiver from her ear.
Then she lifted it again. "You can hear the Italian guns. They are
firing all the time now. So very close."
"Miss Camberwell, can you get a message to Major Swales?"
"Yes."
"Tell him I need another eighteen hours. If he can hold the Italians
until noon tomorrow, then they cannot reach the crossroads before it is
dark tomorrow night. It will give me another day and two nights. If
he can hold until noon, he will have discharged with honour all his
obligations to me, and you will all have earned the undying gratitude
of the Emperor and all the peoples of Ethiopia. You, Mr. Barton and
Major Swales."
"Yes," said
Vicky. Each word was an effort.
"Tell him that at noon tomorrow I shall have made the best arrangements
I can for your evacuation from Sardi. Tell him to hold hard until
noon, and then I will spare no effort to get all of you out of
there."
"I will tell him."
"Tell him that at noon tomorrow he is to order all the remaining
Ethiopian troops to disperse into the mountains, and I will speak to
you again on this telephone to tell you what arrangements I have been
able to make for your safety." Lij
Mikhael, what about the wounded, the ones who cannot disperse into the
hills?" The silence again, and then the Prince's voice, quiet but
heavy with grief.
"It would be best if they fell into the hands of the Italians rather
than the Gallas."
"Yes,"she agreed quietly.
"There is one other thing, Miss Camberwell." The Prince hesitated,
and then went on firmly, "Under no circumstances are you to surrender
yourselves to the Italians. Even in the most extreme circumstances.
Anything-" he emphasized the word, "anything is preferable to that."
?
"I have learned from our agents that sentence of death has been passed
on you, Mr. Barton and Major Swales. You have been declared agents
provocateurs and terrorists. You are to be handed over to Ras
Kullah for execution of sentence. Anything would be better than
that."
"I understand," said Vicky softly, and she shuddered as she thought
of
Ras Kullah's thick pink lips, and the soft bloated hands.
"If everything else fails, I will send an-" his voice was cut off
abruptly, and now there was no hiss of static across the wires, only
the dead silence of lost contact.
For another minute Vicky tried to re-establish contact, but the handset
was mute and the silence complete. She replaced it on its cradle, and
closed her eyes tightly for a moment to steady herself. She had never
felt so lonely and tired and afraid in her entire life.
Vicky paused as she crossed the yard to the warehouse, and she looked
up at the sky. She had not realized how late it was. There were only
a few hours of daylight left but the cloud seemed to be breaking up.
The sombre grey roof was higher, just on the peaks, and there were
light patches where the sun tried to penetrate the cloud.
She prayed quietly that it would not happen. Twice during these last
desperate days, the cloud had lifted briefly, and each time the
Italian bombers had come roaring at low level up the gorge. On both
occasions, the terrible damage they had inflicted had forced Gareth to
abandon his trenches and pull back to the next prepared position, and a
flood of wounded and dying had engulfed them here at the hospital.
"Let it rain," she prayed. "Please God, let it rain and rain."
She bowed her head and hurried on into the shed, into the stench and
the low hubbub of groans and wails. She saw that Sara was still
assisting at the plain wooden table, inadequately screened by a
