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Post by sleepingdragon on May 3, 2009 22:24:17 GMT
Don frowned as Warder Smith led him past the treadmills and towards the Governor's office. He might have asked what was going on, but, he thought, he would be finding out in a moment anyhow.
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Post by Idris on May 4, 2009 22:21:33 GMT
Warder Smith knocked on the door, and they entered upon the governor’s invitation. His office was the only comfortable room in the prison, with carpets on the floor and curtains at the windows. Books and papers were stacked high on the large desk, behind which the man himself, heavy-set and balding, sat writing.
They were expected to stand in silence until he had finished. Eventually he signed his name, picked up what appeared to be a letter, and looked at Don over his spectacles.
“You are Donald McGregor, late of the 7th Fusiliers?” The governor raised bushy eyebrows but did not seem to expect an answer, for he went on almost immediately, looking down at the paper in front of him, “And you saw action in Zululand with the 24th Foot.”
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 6, 2009 21:30:34 GMT
Don stood silently while the Governor read and eventually addressed him. Don hesitated before replying, "I am Donald McGregor."
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Post by Idris on May 6, 2009 22:28:58 GMT
The governor gave Don a hard stare, then grunted as if displeased. He held up the paper in one hand.
“I have here a letter from Lieutenant Bromhead. Apparently he took it upon himself to write to a number of influential men, including Sir William Vernon Harcourt himself, requesting that extenuating circumstances be taken into account in your case. In this letter he speaks of your bravery in defending the hospital at Rorke’s Drift during the Zulu attack.”
The governor’s cold eyes looked up at Don as if he found this hard to credit.
“He appears to believe that this justifies your attack on your commanding officer. And it would seem that that the Secretary of State for Home Affairs agrees with him.”
The governor dropped the letter with a disgusted look, and picked up another paper on which Don could see a large official seal.
“This document is your release. Collect your belongings and Warder Smith will escort you to the gate.” He rolled up the paper and held it out to Don.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 7, 2009 15:43:20 GMT
Don gazed at the governor in complete disbelief. He waited for several seconds before taking the document, as if expecting that the whole thing were some cruel ruse. Don looked over the release document to ensure that it did, in fact, release him from Wandsworth, and to his astonishment found that it did indeed do so. "Thank..." Don began to say, but he trailed off. The governor was plainly unhappy with the whole business and was simply unwilling to expend much effort in stopping it, so he deserved thanking no more than Don deserved releasing.
...he speaks of your bravery in defending the hospital at Rorke's Drift... Well of course he had defended the hospital - until the Zulus attacked he'd been a patient in it. Don had spent most of the battle shaking with illness and fear behind rocks or walls, taking occasional pot shots that he suspected had not come close to hitting anything, though he would never know. He had scarcely been brave. For all the reasons that might have justified striking Captain Riley, Rorke's Drift was probably the least of them.
The governor would neither understand nor care, however, so Don turned and made his way out of the room, still buzzing with shock.
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Post by Idris on May 8, 2009 23:08:06 GMT
As Warder Smith shepherded Don away from the governor’s office, a loud rattling could be heard in the distance. Don knew that this was the sound of the cage-like structure which carried the prisoners’ food from the kitchen on the lowest level. They shortly came across the cage itself, and two prisoners, overseen by a grumbling warder, who were sullenly unloading trays and cans of tea and loaves of dark bread.
Warder Smith held back, letting the men take their burdens and move off in front of them. At each cell, the group stopped and prepared a tray with some of the meagre fare, whereupon the warder opened a hatch in the cell door, took the tray roughly and thrust it through, slamming the hatch and locking it in the same movement.
Normally the men ate in exhausted silence. Not on this day however. A sudden crash made Don start. Something was happening ahead of him – there seemed to be struggling bodies in the corridor.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 10, 2009 13:17:32 GMT
Don walked along in silence, still stunned by his sudden release. He scarcely noticed the handing out of the food until he heard the sudden crash ahead of him and he was jolted back into reality. Don glanced at Warder Smith, his muscles tightening in anticipation of violence.
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Post by Idris on May 11, 2009 21:26:47 GMT
Whatever was going on, it was like a flame to tinder. Prisoners began to hammer their metal trays on the doors of their cells or against the stone floors, and shout out fearful imprecations. There was a short blast on a whistle – the warders’ alarm call - but it was cut off almost immediately.
“Stay there!” Smith ordered Don as he drew his truncheon and advanced towards the fray. It was hard to see exactly what was happening, but a body in uniform was lying on the ground.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 15, 2009 20:30:59 GMT
Looking around him warily, Don stayed where he was.
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Post by Idris on May 15, 2009 22:13:54 GMT
Ahead of him, the mess resolved itself. A warder lay on the ground, another was struggling with one of the two prisoners who had been serving the meals. The other must have retrieved the keys from the downed warder, for he was busy opening the door of one of the cells.
Smith ran in and smashed his truncheon down on the man’s head, but as he fell the cell door swung open and a huge man charged out. Don recalled seeing this man on the treadmill – he was strong as an ox and never seemed to tire. As Don watched, he hammered his fist into Smith, but surprisingly the warder stayed upright, though he circled the giant warily.
The fight between the other warder and prisoner suddenly resolved itself as the warder fell, blood gouting from his throat. Now Don could see the weapon that had been used. A cleaver – it must have come from the kitchen. His opponent out of the way, the prisoner began to close in on warder Smith, the cleaver ready to strike.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 16, 2009 12:41:11 GMT
Don had little time to think. The two might well turn on him when Warder Smith went down - against such odds he no doubt would. Don charged in towards the big unarmed man, hitting him from the opposite side of Warder Smith.
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Post by Idris on May 17, 2009 16:19:33 GMT
Just as Don reached him the big man moved, and Don’s punch to the kidneys caught only cloth. The giant roared and turned round, his fist smacking into Don’s head - fortunately with only a glancing blow, although it still made his teeth rattle.
Meanwhile the other prisoner – who Don could now see was built more along the lines of a sneak-thief than a thug - swung his cleaver desperately at Smith, but the warder deftly dodged away. Smith retaliated with a smart clip to his opponent’s arm, trying to force him to drop the weapon. The prisoner grimaced but clung on tight.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 17, 2009 16:29:49 GMT
Don gritted his teeth and punched back at the man, landing a light blow. "Help me take him down!" he shouted at Smith.
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Post by Idris on May 17, 2009 17:17:22 GMT
Smith avoided the wildly slashing cleaver, more narrowly than before, but seeing Don pressed heavily, he turned on the big man. With a savage grunt, Smith brought his truncheon down with great force on the back of the giant’s head, who swayed for a moment and then pitched forward onto the ground.
Smith grinned at Don and stepped up beside him to face the man with the cleaver. But as he did so, the apparently unconscious prisoner leapt up from the floor with the keys in his hand and dashed down the corridor, Smith’s truncheon missing him by a hair’s breadth as he was caught unawares.
The other prisoner swung the cleaver from side to side, standing his ground though he was plainly terrified.
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Post by sleepingdragon on May 17, 2009 17:25:51 GMT
Thinking quickly, Don bent down and picked up the big prisoner that Smith had just knocked unconscious. Holding him up in front of him like a shield, Don barrelled towards the man with the cleaver.
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