by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER IV.
A TOUGH CUSTOMER.
Like most boys who are fond of play, Tom and Peter Scudamore werecapable of hard work at a pinch, and during the three weeks thatthey spent at Portsmouth they certainly worked with a will. They hadnothing to do in the way of duty, except to practice the bugle, andthis they did with a zeal and perseverance that quite won the heartof Corporal Skinner, and enabled him to look upon Captain Manley'stwo guineas as good as earned. But even with the best will and thestrongest lungs possible, boys can only blow a bugle a certain numberof hours a day. For an hour before breakfast, for two hours beforedinner, and for an hour and a half in the evening they practiced, theevening work being extra, alone with their instructor. There remainedthe whole afternoon to themselves. Their employment of those hours hadbeen undertaken at Peter's suggestion.
"Look here, Tom," he said, at the end of the first day's work, "fromwhat the corporal says, we shall have from one till about five toourselves. Now, we are going to Spain, and it seems to me that itwould be of great use to us, and might do us a great deal of good, toknow something of Spanish. We have got four pounds each left, and Idon't think that we could lay it out better than in getting a Spanishmaster and some books, and in setting to in earnest at it. If we workwith all our might for four hours a day with a master, we shall havemade some progress, and shall pick up the pronunciation a little. Idare say we shall be another ten days or a fortnight on the voyage,and shall have lots of time on our hands. It will make it so mucheasier to pick it up when we get there if we know a little to startwith."
"I think it is a capital idea, Peter; I should think we are prettysure to find a master here."
There was no difficulty upon that score, for there were a large numberof Spanish in England at the time; men who had left the country ratherthan remain under the French yoke, and among them were many who wereglad to get their living by teaching their native language. There weretwo or three in this condition in Portsmouth, and to one of these theboys applied. He was rather surprised at the application from the twoyoung buglers--for the uniforms were finished twenty-four hours aftertheir arrival--but at once agreed to devote his whole afternoons tothem. Having a strong motive for their work, and a determinationto succeed in it, the boys made a progress that astonished boththemselves and their teacher, and they now found the advantage oftheir grounding in Latin at Eton. Absorbed in their work, they sawlittle of the other boys, except at meals and when at practice.
One evening when at supper, one of the buglers, named Mitcham, a ladof nearly eighteen, made some sneering remark about boys who thoughtthemselves above others, and gave themselves airs. Tom saw at oncethat this allusion was meant for them, and took the matter up.
"I suppose you mean us, Mitcham. You are quite mistaken; neither mybrother nor myself think ourselves better than any one, nor have weany idea of giving ourselves airs. The fact is--and I am not surprisedthat you should think us unsociable--we are taking lessons in Spanish.If we go with the regiment it will be very useful, and I have heardit said that any one who lands in a foreign country, and who knows alittle of the grammar and pronunciation, will learn it in half thetime that he would were he altogether ignorant of both. I am sorrythat I did not mention it before, because I can understand that itmust seem as if we did not want to be sociable. I can assure you thatwe do; and that after this fortnight is over we shall be ready to beas jolly as any one. You see we are altogether behindhand with ourwork now, and have got to work hard to put ourselves on your level."
Tom spoke so good-temperedly that there was a general feeling in hisfavor, and several of them who had before thought with Mitcham, thatthe new-comers were not inclined to be sociable, felt that they hadbeen mistaken. There was, however, a general feeling of surpriseand amusement at the idea of two boys voluntarily taking lessons inSpanish. Mitcham, however, who was a surly-tempered young fellow, andwho was jealous of the progress which the boys were making, and of thegeneral liking with which they seemed to be regarded, said,--
"I believe that's only an excuse for getting away from us."
"Do you mean to say that you think that I am telling a lie?" Tom askedquietly.
"Yes, if you put it in that way, young 'un," Mitcham said.
"Hold your tongue, Mitcham, or I'll pull your ears for you," CorporalSkinner said: but his speech was cut short by Tom's putting one handon the barrack table, vaulting across it, and striking Mitcham a heavyblow between the eyes.
There was a cry of "a fight!" among the boys, but the men interferedat once.
"You don't know what you are doing, young 'un," one said to Tom;"when you hit a fellow here, you must fight him. That's the rule, andyou can't fight Mitcham; he's two years older, at least, and a headtaller."
"Of course I will fight him," Tom said. "I would fight him if he weretwice as big, if he called me a liar."
"Nonsense, young 'un!" another said, "it's not possible. He was wrong,and if you had not struck him I would have licked him myself; but asyou have done so, you had better put up with a thrashing, and havedone with it."
"I should think so, indeed!" Tom said disdainfully. "I may get alicking; I dare say I shall; but it won't be all on one side. Lookhere, Mitcham, we will have it out to-morrow, on the ramparts behindthe barracks. But, if you will apologize to me for calling me a liar,I'll say I am sorry I hit you."
"Oh, blow your sorrow!" the lad said. "I'll give you the heartiestlicking you ever had in your life, my young cock."
"Oh, all right," Tom said cheerfully. "We will see all about it whenthe time comes."
As it was evident now that there was no way out of it, no oneinterfered further in the matter. Quarrels in the army are alwayssettled by a fair fight, as at school; but several of the older menquestioned among themselves whether they ought to let this go on,considering that Tom Scudamore was only between fifteen and sixteen,while his opponent was two years older, and was so much heavier andstronger. However, as it was plain that Tom would not take a thrashingfor the blow he had struck, and there did not seem any satisfactoryway out of it, nothing was done, except that two or three of them wentup to Mitcham, and strongly urged him to shake hands with Tom, andconfess that he had done wrong in giving him the lie. This Mitchamwould not hear of, and there was nothing further to be done.
"I am afraid, Tom, you have no chance with that fellow." Peter said,as they were undressing.
"No chance in the world, Peter; but I can box fairly, you know, and ampretty hard. I shall be able to punish him a bit, and you may be sureI shall never give in. It's no great odds getting a licking, and Isuppose that they will stop it before I am killed. Don't bother aboutit. I had rather get knocked about in a fight than get flogged at Etonany day. I would rather you did not come to see it, Peter, if youdon't mind. When you fought Evans it hurt me ten times as much as if Ihad been fighting, and, although you licked him, it made me feel likea girl. I can stand twice the punishment if I don't feel that any blowis hitting you as well as myself."
Tom's prediction about the fight turned out to be nearly correct. Hewas more active, and a vastly better boxer than his antagonist, andalthough he was constantly knocked down, he punished him very heavilyabout the face. In fact, the fight was exactly similar to that greatbattle, fifty years afterwards, between Sayers and Heenan. Time aftertime Tom was knocked down, and even his second begged him to give in,but he would not hear of it. Breathless and exhausted, but alwayscool and smiling, he faced his heavy antagonist, eluding his furiousrushes, and managing to strike a few straight blows at his eyes beforebeing knocked down. By the time that they had fought a quarter ofan hour half the regiment was assembled, and loud were the cheerswhich greeted Tom each time he came up, very pale and bleeding, butconfident, against his antagonist.
At last an old sergeant came forward. "Come," he said, "there has beenenough of this. You had better stop."
"Will he say he was sorry he called me a liar?" Tom asked.
"No, I won't," Mitcham answered.
The s
ergeant was about to use his authority to stop it, when Tom saidto him, in a low voice:
"Look, sergeant! please let us go on another five minutes. I think Ican stand that, and he can hardly see out of his eyes now. He won'tsee a bit by that time."
The sergeant hesitated, but a glance at Tom's antagonist convinced himthat what he said was correct. Mitcham had at all times a round andrather puffy face, and his cheeks were now so swollen with the effectof Tom's straight, steady hitting, that he could with difficulty see.
It was a hard five minutes for Tom, for his antagonist, finding thathe was rapidly getting blind, rushed with fury upon him, trying to endthe fight. Tom had less difficulty in guarding the blows, given wildlyand almost at random, but he was knocked down time after time by themere force and weight of the rush. He felt himself getting weak, andcould hardly get up from his second's knee upon the call of time.He was not afraid of being made to give in, but he was afraid offainting, and of so being unable to come up to time.
"Stick a knife into me; do anything!" he said to his second, "if I gooff, only bring me up to time. He can't hold out much longer."
Nor could he. His hitting became more and more at random, until atlast, on getting up from his second's knee, Mitcham cried in a hoarsevoice, "Where is he? I can't see him!"
Then Tom went forward with his hands down. "Look here, Mitcham, youcan't see, and I can hardly stand. I think we have both done enough.We neither of us can give in, well because--because I am a gentleman,you because you are bigger than I am; so let's shake hands, and say nomore about it."
Mitcham hesitated an instant, and then held out his hand. "You are agood fellow, Scudamore, and there's my hand; but you have licked mefairly. I can't come up to time, and you can. There, I am sorry Icalled you a liar."
Tom took the hand, and shook it, and then a mist came over his eyes,and his knees tottered, as, with the ringing cheers of the men in hisears, he fainted into his second's arms.
"What a row the men are making!" the major said, as the sound ofcheering came through the open window of the mess-room, at which theofficers were sitting at lunch. "It's a fight of course, and a goodone, judging by the cheering. Does any one know who it is between?"
No one had heard.
"It's over now," the adjutant said, looking out of the window, "Hereare the men coming down in a stream. They look very excited over it. Iwonder who it has been. Stokes," he said, turning to one of the messservants, "go out, and find out who has been fighting, and all aboutit."
In a minute or two the man returned. "It's two of the band boys, sir."
"Oh, only two boys! I wonder they made such a fuss over that. Who arethey?"
"One was one of the boys who have just joined, sir. Tom Scudamore,they call him."
"I guessed as much," Captain Manley laughed; "I knew they would not belong here without a fight. Who was the other?"
"Well, sir, I almost thought it must be a mistake when they told me,seeing they are so unequally matched, but they all say so, so incourse it's true--the other was Mitcham, the bugler of No. 3 Company."
"What a shame!" was the general exclamation, while Captain Manley gotup and called for his cap.
"A brutal shame, I call it," he said hotly. "Mitcham's nearly a man.It ought not to have been allowed. I will go and inquire after theboy. I will bet five pounds he was pretty nearly killed before he gavein."
"He didn't give in, Captain Manley," the servant said. "He won thefight. They fought till Mitcham couldn't see, and then young Scudamorewent up and offered to draw it, but Mitcham acknowledged he was fairlylicked. It was a close thing, for the boy fainted right off; but he'scome round now, and says he's all right."
"Hurrah for Eton!" Carruthers shouted enthusiastically. "Hurrah! ByJove, he is game, and no mistake. He won a hard fight or two at Eton,but nothing like this. I call it splendid."
"The boy might have been killed," the major said gravely; while theyounger officers joined in Carruthers's exclamation at Tom's pluck."It is shameful that it was allowed. I suppose the quarrel began intheir quarters. Sergeant Howden is in charge of the room, and ought tohave stopped it at once. Every non-commissioned officer ought to havestopped it. I will have Howden up before the colonel to-morrow."
"I think, major," Captain Manley said, "if you will excuse me, thebest plan, as far as the boy is concerned, is to take no notice ofit. As it is, he must have won the hearts of all the regiment by hispluck, and if he is not seriously hurt, it is the very best thing, asit has turned out, that could have happened. If any one gets into ascrape about it, it might lessen the effect of the victory. I think ifyou call Howden up, and give him a quiet wigging, it will do as well,and won't injure the boys. What do you think?"
"Yes, you are right, Manley, as it has turned out; but the boy mighthave been killed. However, I won't do more than give Howden a heartywigging, and will then learn how the affair begun. I think, Dr.Stathers, that it would be as well if you went round and saw both ofthem. You had better, I think, order them into hospital for the night,and then the boy can go to bed at once, and come out again to-morrow,if he has, as I hope, nothing worse than a few bruises. Please comeback, and tell us how you find them."
The report was favorable, and the next morning Tom came out ofhospital, and took his place as usual, with the party upon theramparts--pale, and a good deal marked, but not much the worse for hisbattle; but it was some days before the swelling of his adversary'sface subsided sufficiently for him to return to duty.
Tom's victory--as Captain Manley had predicted--quite won the heartsof the whole regiment, and the nicknames of "Sir Tom," and "SirPeter"--which had been given to them in jest after Tom's speechabout Sir Arthur Wellesley--were now generally applied to them. Theconversation in the mess-room had got about, and the old soldiers whohad served under Colonel Scudamore would have done anything for thelads, although, as yet, they were hardly known personally except tothe band, as their devotion to work kept them quite apart from themen.
It was just three weeks after they had joined before the order camefor embarkation, and a thrill of pleasure and excitement ran throughthe regiment when it was known that they were to go on board in fourdays. Not the least delighted were Tom and Peter. It had already beenformally settled that they were to accompany the regiment, and itwas a proof of the popularity that they had gained, that every onelooked upon their going as a matter of course, and that no commentwas excited even among those who were left behind. Three days beforestarting they had met Captain Manley in the barrack-yard, and aftersaluting, Tom said, "If you please, sir, we wanted to ask you aquestion."
"What is that, lads?"
"If you please, sir, we understand that the boys of the band havetheir bags carried for them, but the company buglers carry knapsacks,like the men?"
"Yes, boys; the company buglers carry knapsacks and muskets."
"I am afraid we could not carry muskets and do much marching, sir, butwe have each a brace of pistols."
Captain Manley smiled. "Pistols would not look the thing on aparade-ground, boys; but in a campaign people are not very particular,and I have no doubt the colonel will overlook any little breach ofstrict uniformity in your cases, as it is evident you can't carrymuskets. You can use your pistols, I hope," he said with a smile. "Hita penny every time at twenty paces!"
"No, sir, we can't do that," Tom said seriously. "We can hit agood-sized apple nineteen times out of twenty."
"The deuce you can!" Captain Manley said. "How did you learn to dothat?"
"We have practiced twelve shots a day for the last six months, sir. Wewere thinking of asking you, sir, if you would like to carry a braceof them through the campaign. They are splendid weapons; and we shallonly carry one each. They would get rusty and spoil, if we left thembehind, and we should be very pleased to think they might be useful toyou, after your great kindness to us."
"It is not a very regular thing, boys," Captain Manley said, "for acaptain to be borrowing a brace of pistols from two of his buglers;but
you are exceptional buglers, and there is something in what yousay about rusting. Besides, it is possible you may lose yours, so Iwill accept your offer with thanks, with the understanding that I willcarry the pistols, and you shall have them again if anything happensto yours. But how about the knapsacks?"
"We were thinking of having two made of the regimental pattern, sir,but smaller and lighter, if you think that it would be allowed."
"Well, I think, boys, if you are allowed to carry pistols instead ofmuskets, no great objection will be made as to the exact size of theknapsacks. Yes, you can get them made, and I will speak to the colonelabout it."
"Perhaps," he hesitated, "you may be in want of a little money; donot hesitate if you do. I can let you have five pounds, and youcan pay me," he said with a laugh, "out of your share of our firstprize-money."
The boys colored hotly.
"No, thank you, Captain Manley; we have plenty of money. Shall webring the pistols to your quarters?"
"Do, lads, I am going in to lunch now, and will be in in half anhour."
The boys at once went out and ordered their knapsacks. They had justsold their watches, which were large, handsome, and of gold, and hadbeen given to them by their father when they went to Eton. They werevery sorry to part with them, but they agreed that it would be follyto keep gold watches when the twenty pounds which they obtained forthem would buy two stout and useful silver watches and would leavethem twelve pounds in money. They then returned to barracks, took outa brace of their pistols, carefully cleaned them, and removed thesilver plates upon the handles, and then walked across to CaptainManley's quarters.
Rather to their surprise and confusion they found five or six otherofficers there, for Captain Manley had mentioned at lunch to theamusement of his friends that he was going to be unexpectedly providedwith a brace of pistols, and several of them at once said that theywould go up with him to his quarters, as they wanted to see the boysof whom they had spoken so much during the last fortnight. Tom andPeter drew themselves up and saluted stiffly.
"You need not be buglers here, boys," Captain Manley said. "This ismy room, we are all gentlemen, and though I could not, accordingto the regulations, walk down the street with you, the strictestdisciplinarian would excuse my doing as I like here."
The boys flushed with pleasure at Captain Manley's kind address, andas he finished Carruthers stepped forward and shook them warmly by thehand.
"How are you both?" he said. "You have not forgotten me, I hope."
"I had not seen you before. I did not know you were in the regiment,Carruthers," the boys said warmly, pleased to find a face theyhad known before; and then breaking off:--"I beg your pardon--Mr.Carruthers."
"There are no misters here as far as I am concerned, Scudamore. Therewere no misters at Eton. This is a change, isn't it? Better thangrinding away at Greek by a long way. Well, I congratulate you on yourfight. You showed there was some good in dear old Eton still. I wishyou had let me know it was coming off. I would have given anythingto have seen it--from a distance, you know. If it had been the rightthing, I would have come and been your backer."
There was a general laugh, and then the officers all began to talk tothe boys. They were quiet and respectful in their manners, and fullyconfirmed the favorable report which Captain Manley had given of them.
"Where are the pistols, boys?" their friend asked presently.
"Here, sir," and the boys produced them from under their jackets. "Wehave no case, sir; we were obliged to leave it behind us when we--"
"Ran away," one of the officers said, laughing.
"They are a splendid pair of pistols," Captain Manley said, examiningthem; "beautifully finished, and rifled. They look quite new, too,though, of course, they are not."
"They are new, sir," Tom said; "we have only had them six months, andthey were new then."
"Indeed," Captain Manley said surprised; "I thought, of course, theywere family pistols. Why, how on earth, if it is not an impertinentquestion, did you boys get hold of two brace of such pistols as these?I have no right to ask the question, boys. I see there has been aplate on the handles. But you said you had no relations, and I wassurprised into asking."
The boys colored.
"The question was quite natural, sir; the pistols were presented to usby some people we traveled with once; we took the plates off becausethey made a great fuss about nothing, and we thought that it wouldlook cockey."
There was a laugh among the officers at the boys' confusion.
"No one would suspect you of being cockey, Scudamore," Captain Manleysaid kindly; "come, let me see the plates."
The boys took the little silver plates from their pockets and handedthem silently to Captain Manley, who read aloud, to the surprise ofthose around him,--"'To Tom' and 'Peter,' they are alike except thenames. 'To Tom Scudamore, presented by the passengers in the Highflyercoach on the 4th of August, 1808, as a testimony of their appreciationof his gallant conduct, by which their property was saved fromplunder.' Why, what is this, you young pickles, what were you up to onthe 4th of August last year?"
"There was nothing in it at all, sir," Tom said; "we were on the coachand were stopped by highwaymen. One of the passengers had pistols,but was afraid to use them, and hid them among the boxes. So when thepassengers were ordered to get down to be searched, we hid ourselves,and when the highwaymen were collecting their watches, Peter shot one,and I drove the coach over another. The matter was very simple indeed;but the passengers saved their money, so made a great fuss about it."
There was much laughter over Tom's statement, and then he had togive a detailed account of the whole affair, which elicited manyexpressions of approval.
"It does you credit, boys," Captain Manley said, "and shows that youare cool as well as plucky. One quality is as valuable as the other.There is every hope that you will do the regiment credit, boys, andyou may be sure that we shall give you every chance. And now good-byefor the present."
"Good-bye, sir," Tom and Peter again drew themselves up, gave themilitary salute, and went off to their comrades.
For when the order came to prepare for the embarkation, both Spanishand bugling were given up, and the boys entered into the pleasureof the holiday with immense zest. They had no regimental duties toperform beyond being present at parade. They had no packing to do, andfewer purchases to make. A ball or two of stout string, for, as Petersaid, string is always handy, and a large pocket-knife, each witha variety of blades, were the principal items. They had a ring putto the knives, so that they could sling them round the waist. Theyhad, therefore, nothing to do but to amuse themselves, and this theydid with a heartiness which astonished the other boys, and provedconclusively that they did not want to be unsociable. They hired aboat for a sail and took five or six other boys across to Ryde, onlyjust returning in time for tattoo, and they played such a number ofsmall practical jokes, such as putting a handful of peas into thebugles and other wind instruments, that the band-master declared thathe thought that they were all bewitched, and he threatened to thrashthe boys all round, because he could not find out who had done it.
Especially angry was the man who played the big drum. This was agigantic negro, named Sam, a kind-hearted fellow, constantly smiling,except when the thought of his own importance made him assume aparticularly grave appearance. He was a general favorite, although theboys were rather afraid of him, for he was apt to get into a passionif any jokes were attempted upon him, and of all offences the greatestwas to call him Sambo. Now none of the men ventured upon this, forwhen he first joined, Sam had fought two or three desperate battles onthis ground, and his great strength and the insensibility of his headto blows had invariably given him the victory. But, treated with whathe conceived proper respect, Sam was one of the best-tempered andbest-natured fellows in the regiment; and he himself, when he oncecooled down, was perfectly ready to join in the laugh against himself,even after he had been most put out by a joke.
The day before the regiment was to embark, t
he officers gave a lawnparty; a large number of ladies were present, and the band was, ofcourse, to play. The piece which the bandmaster had selected for thecommencement began with four distinct beats of the big drum. Justbefore it began, Captain Manley saw Tom and Peter, who with some ofthe other boys had brought the music-stands into the ground, withtheir faces bright with anticipated fun.
"What is the joke, boys?" he asked good-humoredly, as he passed them.
"I can't tell you, sir," Tom said; "but if you walk up close to theband, and watch Sam's face when he begins, you will be amused, Ithink."
"Those are regular young pickles," Captain Manley said to the ladyhe was walking with; "they are Etonians who have run away from home,and are up to all kinds of mischief, but are the pluckiest and moststraightforward youngsters imaginable. I have no doubt that they areup to some trick with our black drummer."
On their way to where the band was preparing to play, Captain Manleysaid a word or two to several of the other officers, consequentlythere was quite a little party standing watching the band when theirleader lifted his baton for the overture to begin.
There was nothing that Sam liked better than for the big drum tocommence, and with his head thrown well back and an air of extremeimportance, he lifted his arm and brought it down with what shouldhave been a sounding blow upon the drum. To his astonishment and tothe surprise of all the band, no deep boom was heard, only a lowmuffled sound. Mechanically Sam raised his other arm and let it fallwith a similar result. Sam looked a picture of utter astonishment anddismay, with his eyes opened to their fullest, and he gave vent to aloud cry, which completed the effect produced by his face, and setmost of those looking on, and even the band themselves, into a roar oflaughter. Sam now examined his sticks, they appeared all right to theeye, but directly he felt them his astonishment was turned into rage.They were perfectly soft. Taking out his knife he cut them open, andfound that the balls were merely filled with a wad of soft cotton, thenecessary weight being given by pieces of lead fastened round the endof the stick inside the ball with waxed thread.
Sam was too enraged to say more than his usual exclamation ofastonishment, "Golly!" and he held out his drumsticks to be examinedwith the face of a black statue of surprise.
Even the band-master was obliged to laugh as he took the sticks fromSam's hand to examine them.
"These are not your sticks at all, Sam," he said, looking closely atthem. "Here, boy," he called to Tom, who might have been detected fromthe fact of his being the only person present with a serious face,"run to the band-room and see if you can find the sticks."
In a few minutes Tom returned with the real drumsticks, which, hesaid truly, he had found on the shelf where they were usually kept.After that things went on as usual; Sam played with a sulky fury. Hisdignity was injured, and he declared over and over again that if hecould "find de rascal who did it, by jingo, I pound him to squash!"and there was no doubt from his look that he thoroughly meant what hesaid. However, no inquiries could bring to light the author of thetrick.