CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
HOW I MADE A LONG JOURNEY, AND REACHED THE HAPPIEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE.
One morning, in the autumn of the same year, a small cluster of menstanding on the deck of the troopship "Lizard," as she tumbled lazilyforward over the waves, descried in the far horizon before them a dimlow line of blue. My master was one of this cluster, and havingrecovered from the depression which had afflicted both his spirits andhis stomach during the early part of the voyage, now celebrated the"discovery of India" with a cry so outlandish, and other manifestationsof joy so extravagant (one of which was pitching one of the sergeants'caps overboard) that he was instantly summoned before the officer incommand, and ordered to remain below for the next twelve hours. Thiswas, I need hardly say, a disappointment to both of us.
All day long we heard overhead the crowding of footsteps, the clankingof chains, and the banging about of baggage. The men were paraded ondeck and one or two servants down where we were were very busy polishingthe officers' swords. Altogether it looked as if we were not intendedto remain an hour longer in Bombay than was necessary before marching tothe front. Indeed, the arrival of a newspaper on board, along with thepilot, created such a ferment among the officers and men that it wasevident something unusual had happened since we last heard the news.
When, towards evening, my master was allowed once more to come on deck,we were not long in discovering the cause of all this.
The Indian Mutiny, which had just broken out when we left England, hadsuddenly assumed enormous and hideous dimensions. The rebels, takingadvantage of their first success, seemed to have gone mad with a mostcruel madness. Helpless Englishwomen and children had been massacredand outraged; gallant Englishmen, overpowered by numbers, had been putto shameful deaths. One by one our strongholds had been surprised andcaptured; and, carrying all before them, the traitors bade fair to leaveEngland not so much as a foothold in India.
This was enough to make the blood of the tamest among us boil withindignation, and, as the dreadful truth, bit by bit, dawned on ourgallant fellows, their impatience became almost beyond control. Mymaster was in sad peril of another arrest by reason of his excitement.
"Show me the spalpeens! Show me 'em!" roared he, almost beside himself."Let me at 'em, Duck, ye blackguard; let me at 'em!"
And so saying he seized Mr Downie, who happened to be standing nearhim, and nearly shook the bones out of that unoffending hero's body.
"Do ye hear?" roared Paddy, quite out of his senses.
"I hear," said Downie, coolly, proceeding to take off his coat and tuckup his shirt-sleeves as if he were going to wash his hands.
"What's the gossoon about at all?" cried my master, taken aback by thisunexpected reply to his question.
"On'y going to smash you!" calmly replied the imperturbable Duck,beginning to spar--"so come on, my lad!"
That Patrick would have joyfully accepted the invitation I have nodoubt, had not an accident at that moment befallen him.
A trolly coming up behind, took him off his feet. To recover himself,he took a spring forward, and landed full on the top of the juniorensign of the regiment, a mild youth with a very little voice, and forthe next minute the two were rolling, one on the top of the other, overand over, along the wet deck, amid the laughter of everybody.
By the time Paddy had picked himself up, and helped the poor youngensign to his feet, his ardour was sufficiently damped. He apologisedwith as good grace as he could to his late victim, and made very humbleexcuses to the sergeant in charge, who, fortunately for him, hadwitnessed that the affair was an accident.
Duck Downie, however, with his coat off and his sleeves tucked up, stillawaited his man as if nothing had happened, and seemed surprised thatPaddy was not as eager as before for the fray. The latter, however,quite sobered by this time, merely cried out in the hearing ofeverybody,--
"Arrah! Downie, darlint, ye may put on your coat, because I forgive youthis onst; but, man dear, don't do it again!" and was thereby consideredby everybody to have had the best of the whole adventure.
Under such dignified circumstances did we set foot on Indian soil.
The reader will be surprised that I have never yet remembered that whenI last heard of him, Charlie, my first master, was in India. I didremember it often and often--during the voyage and after landing. Andyet I quite despised myself for imagining (as I did) that the next whiteface I saw would surely be his. India is a big place--a dreadfully bigplace--and the chances of finding any one particular person there areabout as great as of discovering a needle in a haystack. He might haveleft India long ago; he might have fallen in the massacres of the pastfew months; he might be somewhere right across the continent. And so,though I could not get rid of a vague sort of expectation, during thefirst few days of my being in India, I always laughed at myself for asimpleton for thinking such a chance possible.
However, we had no time for thinking just then. From the moment welanded in Bombay, and for a week or two afterwards, we were continuallyon the move. Long forced marches under a broiling sun, it was enough towear out any ordinary troops. But our men, and the column to which theywere now attached, formed no ordinary body of men. They were Englishmenhastening to the rescue, and nothing on earth could stop them. It wasstrange how slowly the news of those stirring times came to our ears.
One day we heard with a horror that I can never describe of that foulmassacre at Cawnpore, where in cold blood gentle English ladies andinnocent children had been brutally massacred, and their bodies flunginto a well. Then the news came of the achievements of that wonderfularmy of relief led by Havelock.
Day after day came the news of his march on Lucknow, where our besiegedfellow-countrymen lay. Every one knows of that heroic march. Inch byinch, almost, that handful of men fought their way, fighting a battle aday, and never yielding a step.
One day a horseman galloped into our camp in a great state ofexcitement. As he flung himself from his horse he shouted something,but we only caught the two words, "Havelock," "Lucknow." It was enough.Lucknow was saved! There rose cheer upon cheer at the news, and shoutupon shout. Men and officers alike waved their hats and shook hands,Paddy, as usual, let his feelings get the better of him, and nearlybroke Larry's spine with the joyful thump he gave it; indeed, it is safeto say our men were almost as proud as if they had themselves achievedthe relief.
Presently, however, there spread a rumour that though Lucknow was saved,it was not yet relieved.
Havelock had fought his way in, but until help arrived, he, too, wouldbe a prisoner within its walls; and almost in the same breath came thegrand news; our column was the one destined for this glorious work! Howour hearts beat! What mattered it now how long the marches were, andhow grilling the sun?
"Lucknow" was the cry; and that magic word sustained us in everyhardship and peril.
We reached Cawnpore at last, and there joined Sir Colin Campbell'sforce. The sight of this house of murder was simply maddening to themen. They left the place next morning with a sort of shudder, and settheir faces towards Lucknow. It was not till we were well on the marchthat I had leisure to look about me and notice how our force wasincreased.
Several now regiments were with us, and the commander-in-chief and hisstaff and heavy guns and siege trains accompanied the march. With theexception of a few skirmishes, my master had yet to learn what a battlewas. We crept on, halting sometimes, and sometimes pushing on, untilone jubilant afternoon the distant walls of Lucknow appeared in sight.Then indeed our brave fellows began to breathe again.
To-morrow would bring them to the city walls, and--what was equallyafter their hearts--face to face with the enemy. We bivouacked here forthe night.
Now it happened on this particular night that my master was on sentinelduty for the first time in his life, and mightily proud of his charge.There he stood as stiff as a poker, with his rifle at his side, and Iverily believe would have thought nothing of running his bayonet throughthe body
of the commander-in-chief if he had presented himself withoutthe password.
Patrick was not a dreamer; and as he looked across in the direction ofLucknow I don't suppose his meditations were of the loftiest kind. Heknew there would be a fight to-morrow, and so he was happy; he knew dutymight call him to action even to-night, and so he kept a very sharplook-out at his post; but otherwise his mind was profoundly untroubled.It was not so with me. On the eve of the battle I could not but feelthat in a few hours I might be ownerless, and in a dead man's pocket;and, as I looked back upon my strangely eventful life, I sighed, andhalf hoped, if he were slain, they would in mercy bury me with him, andso end my cares once and for all. Little I knew!
It was scarcely ten o'clock when Paddy was startled by approachingfootsteps. They belonged to an officer of our force who was returningat this hour from an outpost. Paddy eyed him suspiciously, and evenwhen he gave the word looked disappointed at not having the privilege ofusing his bayonet upon him. Just as he was going on his way, theofficer turned and said, in a voice which startled me,--
"Is it ten yet, my man?"
Why did the voice startle me? I could not see the speaker's face, butas he spoke I fancied myself back in the Randlebury schoolroom, and mymemory saw a bright-eyed boy I had known once whom I could almost havebelieved to be the speaker of these few words. Strange what fanciestake possession of one! Patrick, as he _had_ a watch, and had by thistime learned the mysterious art of telling the time, was not the man toanswer such a question as this at random.
"Hould my gun, cap'n," he said, "till I sthrike a light."
Fancy a sentinel asking an officer to hold his gun! I knew enough ofmilitary discipline to make me tremble at the thought of what wouldbecome of my unceremonious master.
But the officer, instead of flying into a rage, took the rifle andlaughed. That laugh reminded me more than ever of Randlebury.
"You're a pretty fellow," he said. "Is that the manners they teach youat home."
"I axe yer pardon, colonel, but--"
Here the officer laughed again--and oh! how my heart beat as I heardhim. "If I stay here much longer I shall get promoted to general, Isuppose," said he. "Look sharp and tell me the time."
Patrick, without another word, produced a light. The officer's face washalf turned as he did so, and I could not catch his features, but as heturned impatiently towards the sentinel the light fell full upon it, andwith a bound of astonishment I recognised in the swarthy, soldierlyofficer before me, no other than my oldest and dearest master, CharlieNewcome, of Randlebury.
The strange presentiment, then, was true--I had found him after so longa time! But what if he should not see me? What torment to be so nearand yet so far! And how was it likely he would take notice of a commonprivate's watch, and if he did, how was it likely at this distance oftime he would remember poor me? Jim, I know, had told him of thestrange way in which I had come into his hands, and would certainly havealso told him about losing me. He must, therefore, long ago have givenup all thoughts about me, or if he ever remembered me it would be as onedead.
My master took me out and held me up to the light.
"It'll be about five minutes past ten, your honour, by my watch."
"Thank you. Good--hullo?"
He had seen me! His eyes were suddenly riveted upon me, and he seemedglued to the spot where he stood.
"Did your honour plaze to spake?" asked Paddy, proceeding to put me backinto his pocket.
"My old watch!" cried Charlie, springing forward, and catching hold ofmy master's hand. "Give it to me!"
Paddy's surprise was unbounded. At first he deemed the man mad, thendrunk, then gradually it dawned upon him this was not an officer at all,but a highwayman in disguise, seeking to take advantage of his solitudeto rob him.
In an instant he sprang back, and, seizing his rifle, levelled thebayonet to within an inch of Charlie's heart.
"Now, ye thievin' blackguard," said he, "move an inch and I'll stick yelike a pig. Arrah! but ye came to the wrong boy when ye thought to playyour tricks on me! Stan' still now, or as sure as you're alive you're adead man;" and he gave Charlie a suggestive touch with the point of hisweapon, which showed plainly he had every intention of being as good ashis word.
Here was a predicament! and I could do nothing to help.
Charlie, fairly penned in a corner, was at a loss what to say or do. Hebegan in an angry strain,--
"Don't be a fool, sir; do you--"
"Howld yer tongue!" roared Paddy, giving another poke with his bayonet.
Then Charlie attempted to laugh, which enraged the sentry all the more.
"Is it mock me, ye would, as well as rob me, ye foul-mouthed spalpeen,you?" he cried.
"I don't want to rob you," put in Charlie.
"Faith and I'll see ye don't," retorted the Irishman.
"Listen to me an instant," besought Charlie.
"The sorra a word. Ye shall say it all before the gineral the morrow,for there I'll take ye."
For some moments Charlie stood in this awkward fix, not daring to stir,or even to speak, and with every prospect of spending the night with abayonet point within an inch of his body.
Suddenly, however, a brilliant idea occurred to him. If I really washis old watch, as he fancied, this man had possibly found me whereHalliday had lost me.
It was a bare chance every way, but he determined to try it.
"So you are from Seatown!" he suddenly exclaimed.
The rifle literally dropped from the astonished sentry's hand.
"Who told ye that?" he almost shrieked.
"Never mind," said Charlie, following up the advantage, and softlystepping out of his corner. "It's two years since you left, isn't it?"
Patrick was "dumfoundered." This man must be in league, surely, withthe powers of darkness!
"_Now_ do you know why I want that watch?" said Charlie sternly, at thesame time quietly picking up the dropped rifle. The tables were fairlyturned now. The wretched Patrick, whose conscience had more than oncesmitten him about the way in which he had become possessed of me, lookedthe picture of terror--not at the bayonet, but at the man who held it.
He drew me from his pocket with trembling hands, and holding me out atarm's length, cried,--
"Arrah, arrah! take him, gineral, take him. How was I to know you wasthe gentleman dropped him there? Who'd have--"
By this time Charlie had seized me and taken me to the light. In aninstant he stripped me of my coat, and there, with bounding heart, readhis own initials, scratched years ago with his own boyish hand, in thedormitory of Randlebury.
"It _is_ it!" he shouted; "my old watch! Who would have thought itpossible!"
Then turning to the trembling Paddy, he said, in a voice almost unsteadyin its eagerness,--
"My man, what will you sell me this watch for?"
Paddy looked more astonished than ever.
"Sure it's your honour's own."
"It was once, but it's yours now. But I'll give you a ten-pound notefor him and a gold watch besides if you'll let me have him back."
Imagine Paddy's astonishment.
"Sure Duck Downie says it's not worth thirty shillings--"
"Who cares for Duck Downie?" shouted Charlie, pulling out his purse."Here's the money, and if you come to Lieutenant Newcome's tent when youare off duty you shall have the watch."
And so saying, and not waiting for another word, he darted off, with mestill in his hands, leaving Paddy fairly stupefied with amazement, andwith only presence of mind enough left to pick up his rifle and make aroyal salute to the retreating form of my first and last and dearestmaster.
The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch Page 27