and remote, and she could hardly catch the words, for the rain still
rattled on the iron roof above her head. 'I am at the Dessie
crossroads.'
'The train,' she said, her voice firming. Lij Mikhael,
where is the train you promised? We must have medicine antiseptic,
anaesthetic don't you understand? There are six hundred wounded men
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.'
