by Lewis Hough
CHAPTER EIGHT.
KAVANAGH'S CHOICE.
Captain Strachan was an old naval officer, who lived in a rather retiredspot on the borders of Somersetshire and Devonshire. His house had averandah round it, and one warm afternoon he was sitting at a tableunder this, spectacles on nose, tying artificial flies. A young son oftwelve sat by him rapt, holding feathers and silk, which latter he hadpreviously drawn through a kid glove containing cobbler's wax, andwondering whether he should ever attain to the paternal skill in thismanufacture.
Mrs Strachan and two of her girls were round another wicker-work tablea little farther off, indulging in afternoon tea, their books andneedlework put down for the minute. Presently the sound of a horse'shoofs was heard upon the gravel beyond the garden hedge, and Mary, theeldest girl, jumped from her low basket chair, exclaiming--
"Here he comes!"
Everybody looked up, expectant; even Captain Strachan laid down hiswork--and those who have ever endeavoured to manufacture an artificialfly know what _that_ means--as our old friend, Tom Strachan, walked upthe path towards the group. As he did not look very pleased, his motherconcluded the worst, and said--
"Never mind, Tom, if you _have_ failed; very few succeed the first time,and you have two more chances."
For Tom had been in for the competitive examination, and had now riddenover to Barnstaple to forestall the country postman and learn his fate.
"But I have not failed, mother," said Tom; "indeed, I am pretty high upin the list--better than I expected."
"Well done, my boy!" cried Captain Strachan. "Not that I had any fearfor you, because I saw you reading steadily at home when there was nopressure put upon you. And those were the fellows who always passed inmy days. But I am glad it is safe, all the same, and we will have abottle of that old Ferrier-Jouet for dinner on the strength of it. ButI say, Tom, you look as grave as a marine at a Court-Martial. No wonderyour mother thought you had scored a blank."
"Well, the fact is, my friend Kavanagh has not had my luck. It isawfully hard lines, for he has only missed it by twenty marks. It is abad job."
"Aye, it is a pity," said Captain Strachan. Reginald Kavanagh was ageneral favourite in the family, with whom he had twice been to stay inthe holidays. "A pity for him and a pity for the service. He was cutout for a soldier if ever a lad was. Well, I hope he will study hardnow, and succeed next time."
"That is the worst of it," said Tom. "He has no second chance, for hehas no money to live upon till the time comes. I told you about thatwill which has been stolen or lost; that was the only thing he had todepend upon, and he has got to earn his bread."
There was a general murmur of regret. Mrs Strachan particularly pitiedhim for having no mother to console him, though her husband thought thatthis was a redeeming feature in the case. If he had to bear herdisappointment as well as his own it would be a great deal worse, hesaid, and no young fellow of spirit wants to be pitied.
"Besides," he added, "there is this to be thought of. Suppose he hadsucceeded, he would not have been in a very pleasant position. Asubaltern trying to live upon his pay is placed about as uncomfortablyas a lad can be. For my part, I am not sure that I would not sooner bea full private, if I must take to soldiering at all."
"But your other friend, Forsyth, who went out to Egypt to find the manwho was supposed to have the will--has nothing been heard from him?"asked Mary.
"Nothing to help," replied Tom. "There has been one letter from him,and he was as hopeful as ever; but he had only got as far as Cairo. Ofcourse, if he succeeds Kavanagh will be right enough, but what is he todo in the meantime? He has no relative to go to, you see."
"We would have him here for a spell if it were likely to do him anygood," said Captain Strachan.
"Thank you, father. It will be kind to ask him, but I know he won'tcome. He has never been sanguine about Forsyth's recovering the will,and I know had made up his mind to face the situation if he failed inthis. He would feel that coming here would only make it more difficultafterwards. He expected to be spun, and I have no doubt has fixed hisplans."
Although his friend's failure damped Tom Strachan's pleasure in his ownsuccess, it could not entirely quench it, and the family party soon grewmore cheery.
Of course the publication of the list was a terrible facer for Kavanagh,and when he saw the certainty of his failure his heart thumped hard andhis brain reeled for half a minute. But when the mist cleared from hiseyes he drew a long breath, shook himself, and lit a cigar. He did notbother himself with "ifs." _If_ he had read this subject a little more,and that a little less, he would have got so many more marks. _If_those questions he had particularly crammed in such a subject had beenset. _If_ there had been three more vacancies, etcetera. Neither didhe regret his former want of application, which he had done his veryutmost to remedy the last year. Nor did he give way to a passion ofvexation about the missing will, or repine at Fate. "What's the use?"he said to himself when these thoughts recurred to him; and he smotheredthem as he walked towards his room--this was in the chambers of abrother militia officer who played at being a barrister and lived in theTemple. As he was a sportsman and an Alpine climber, he did not livevery much in London, and finding that his subaltern, Kavanagh, was goingto lodge in the capital for the sake of reading with a crammer, andhaving a spare bedroom which he did not want, and was thinking ofletting off if he found a friend whose coming in and out would not borehim, to take it, he proposed that the lad should do so. If he liked topay him 20 pounds a year he might; if not, it did not matter. For hehad taken a great fancy to Kavanagh, who, indeed, was a generalfavourite. When Royce, the owner of the chambers, was away, Kavanaghhad the sole use of the sitting-room as well as of the bedroom; and whenhe was in town it was much the same thing. They breakfasted together,but Royce spent most of the day at his club.
He was in London now, and Kavanagh wished he was not, for he did notwant consolation, advice, or offer of help. He knew that he had to workout this business for himself, and the less said the better. Royce wasnot in now, that was one consolation. Kavanagh went up to his room, andbegan overhauling his clothes. He selected an old pair of corduroytrousers which he had used for shooting, with a coat and waistcoat whichhad been worn with them, and a pair of boots bought in the countryready-made, on an occasion when he had been obliged, by an accident tohis wardrobe, to supply himself in a hurry. A much-worn check shirt,with collar attached, and a black silk handkerchief, with a pair ofworsted socks, completed the lot of clothes which he laid upon the bed,and for which he then changed what things he had on. These he packed upwith all his other clothes in several portmanteaus and carpet bags. Henext placed his tall hat away in its box, and, having completed thesearrangements, put on a wideawake, went out, and called a four-wheeler.Then he went upstairs again, and returned with a tin uniform-case on oneshoulder and a portmanteau in his hand. It took him three trips tobring all his goods down and stow them on and in the cab. When at lasthe had accomplished it, he was stopped as he drove off by one of theofficials, who said--
"Halloa, my man, where are you off to with Mr Kavanagh's luggage?"
"I am Mr Kavanagh," he replied.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man, touching his hat, as herecognised him.
It was not very far that he took the cab, only across to HolywellStreet, where he stopped at an old clothes shop, and dismissed theastonished cabby, after having carried all the luggage inside, a youngman with a hooked nose helping him quite as a matter of course.
"Now, then," said Kavanagh, "what are you going to give me for all thesethings, clothes, uniform, portmanteaus, cases, and all. Of course theywill go dirt cheap, but don't overdo it, or I shall call a cab and go onto the next establishment. I don't mind the trouble of packing upagain."
"Theresh no one in the street gives so good a prish as me," said theman, turning over the different articles, and beginning to depreciatethem. There was no sale for uniforms; those shirts we
re thin in theback; that coat was too big for most customers, and so forth. Kavanaghcut him short--
"I don't want to know all that; come to the point, and say what you willgive for the lot."
"What do you ask?" counter-responded the Jew.
"Twenty pounds; and that's an alarming sacrifice."
"Twenty pounds! Did any one ever hear the like! Twenty pounds for oldclothes!"
"Why, you would sell the portmanteaus and tin cases alone for ten, andthat overcoat for three."
"You think so, my tear young man? Tear, tear, how little you know ofthe trade! I'll give you five pounds for the lot, and then I doubt if Ishall make any profit," and the dealer looked determined.
"Say ten pounds, and it's a bargain," said Kavanagh.
"No, I say five, and I mean five. Take it, or leave it."
"Well, to have done with all bother, we will make it seven pounds,"cried Kavanagh, who was amused with his first attempt at making a dealof the kind.
The Jew compressed his lips and shook his head.
"Very good, then," said Kavanagh, dragging one of the portmanteaustowards him, and beginning to pack it. "I will try my luck over the waythere. I see it is so close a cab will not be necessary; I can carrythe things across. Sorry to have troubled you."
"Here, stop a bit," said the Jew. "Say six pounds, and that is a moregenerous offer than you will get anywhere else."
Kavanagh went on with his packing.
"Well, six ten, and that will swallow up all my profit, I fear, but I'llrisk it for once. Well, come, seven pounds then, since you must haveit."
So Kavanagh left goods and chattels, which had cost about seventypounds, behind him, and walked out with a tenth part of that sum incash.
Then he went down the Strand till he came to a pawnbroker's, where hedisposed of the rings, studs, and pins which he possessed, thus adding afurther ten pounds to his capital.
His next visit was to a watchmaker's, where he was known, though theowner of it did not recognise him at first in his shabby clothes.
"You see I have come down in the world, Mr Balance," said Kavanagh.
Mr Balance put on what he meant for a grave and sympathetic face.
"To wear a gold watch and chain would be absurd in my alteredcircumstances. Are you willing to change them for a stout silver onewhich will keep as good time, and pay me something for the difference?"
"Certainly I will, Mr Kavanagh; but, dear me, sir, pardon my asking;your guardian, Mr Burke, was such an old customer. I hope sir, therehas been no unpleasantness between you."
"None whatever; only he has died, poor man, and his will, in which Iknow that I was well treated, cannot be found. So you see I must notindulge in gold watches."
"Dear me!" said the old man, to whom Kavanagh had gone for his firstwatch when quite a little boy, and upon whom he had called whenever hewas in town since; to get the second handsome gold hunter now inquestion; to have it cleaned; to buy some little knick-knack, or merelyfor a chat. "Dear me; I do hope all will come right; I am _sure_ allwill come right."
"I hope you are a true prophet," said Kavanagh, cheerily. "But now, howabout this silver watch?"
He chose a good strong one, with a chain to match, and handed over thegold, Mr Balance giving him twenty-five pounds besides.
"I say! This is too much!" cried Kavanagh. "It only cost forty poundswhen new."
"And is worth thirty-five now," said the watchmaker. "I shall make agood profit out of the bargain, I assure you."
Kavanagh pocketed his new watch, held out his hand, which the old mangrasped, across the counter, and walked away murmuring, "Good old chap!"
It was still early in the afternoon, so to complete all his business atonce he walked back to the chambers, took his sword, which he had notparted with, packed it up in brown paper, and directed it to TomStrachan. Then he wrote this letter:--
"Dear Tom,--When I joined the Militia I hoped that it was a stepping- stone to the Line, so I would not have a tailor's sword, but indulged in the expensive luxury of a good one. Accept it, old fellow, with all sorts of congratulations and good wishes. `The property of a gentleman, having no further use for it,' eh? I must poke my way to fame with a bayonet, if I am to get there, instead of carving it with a sword. Thank your people for their kindness to me.--Yours, etcetera."
"By-the-by," he soliloquised, when he had stuck and directed thisepistle, "I have not sent in the resignation of my commission yet." Andhe took half a sheet of foolscap and wrote out the formal notice to theAdjutant of the 4th Blankshire at once. Then he said, "There is nothingelse, I think, but to post the letters and send the sword off by rail;and then go in for new experiences."
It was a good bit of a new experience for him to carry a parcel throughthe streets of London, and book it himself, but in his present costumehe did not mind doing it one bit. Indeed, he felt quite light-hearted;knowing the worst was much better than the anxiety of the past fewweeks. And then there was another matter. Having been used to a goodallowance, and possessing naturally somewhat fastidious tastes, he hadnot been very economical, though, as he hated the idea of debt, andwould rather have blacked shoes for a livelihood than have imposed onhis generous godfather and guardian, he had not fallen into actuallyextravagant habits.
When Mr Burke died, and the will was not forthcoming, and he was thusplaced face to face with actual impending poverty, Kavanagh had thesense, the manliness, and the honesty, to do violence to his tastes andfeelings, by guarding against all unnecessary expenditure. But to afree-handed and generous disposition this is a very hard task; and whenthe end came, and he cast up his accounts, he found to his dismay thathe owed more than the balance of his allowance, the last sum paid tohim, would cover.
It was not much, and would not have been pressed for, but Kavanagh,though rather weak about his personal appearance, had a pound of manlypride to an ounce of girlish vanity, and would sooner have gone in ragsthan owed money to a tailor. The money he had obtained that afternoonwould entirely clear him from every liability, and leave him with a fewpounds in his pocket; and this relief made him quite light-hearted, inspite of the final tumble of his house of cards.
The question was--where to dine. He knew lots of restaurants and chop-houses, but even in the most humble of the latter, where the floor wassaw-dusted, his present costume would excite remark. He had fromboyhood been particular about his dress, and his collars and waistcoatshad incited some of his friends to call him a dandy, so his scruples mayhave been exaggerated.
At last he saw several better-class artisans go into an eating-house inOxford Street, and following them he did very well. The table-cloth wasstained with brown circles from the porter pots, and was otherwisedirty; the forks were pewter, and there were no napkins; but the meatwas as good as you would get anywhere, so were the vegetables, the beeralso; and the cost was about half that of the most homely chop-houses hehad hitherto patronised.
His dinner done, it was about the time when the theatres were opening,so he went to the gallery door of one of the principal of them, andafter waiting a little while, amongst the good-humoured crowd, he surgedupstairs with them--many stairs they were, and steep--and got a goodplace close to the chandelier. The warmth and light from it were rathertoo obtrusive, but did not prevent his taking an interest in theperformance, which was shared by his neighbours in the most intense andhearty fashion. The women sobbed at the pathetic parts, while the menset their teeth and turned white when the villain temporarily got thebest of it, and both sexes roared with delight over the comic scenes.Likewise, all sucked oranges; therefore Kavanagh purchased and sucked anorange, and ingratiated himself with his female neighbours by politelyoffering them that fruit!
And between the acts, when the young men in the stalls, in their whiteties, and white kid gloves, and nicely parted hair, stood up andlanguidly surveyed the house through their opera-glasses, Kavanagh had asardonic amusement in the recollection as he thought that a fortnightbefore h
e had sat in that fourth stall in the third row, in eveningdress, with a gardenia in his button-hole, and had similarly inspectedthe inferior beings around him. Froggy Barton occupied that seat to-night. Kavanagh took a squeeze at his orange, and thought he could hitFroggy with the skin. But of course he refrained from trying. Only hedid look so sleek! "What much wiser people we are than the swells!"Kavanagh thought. "We enjoy ourselves without being ashamed of it, andwe endure crowding and semi-suffocation without getting ill-tempered!"
But he soon had enough of it, in spite of his philosophy, and after thesecond fall of the curtain was glad to get into the fresh air.
When he reached the Temple he found Royce expecting him, and directly heentered he got up and shook him by the hand.
"I did not see the list till six," he said, "and then I came to chambersin hopes of finding you, and getting you to come out somewhere. Youhave not been moping, I hope."
"Moping! Not a bit of it," replied Kavanagh. "I am not going to cry `Itake a licking!' because Fortune has caught me a couple of facerswithout a return. I have been to the theatre, and enjoyed myselfvastly, I assure you."
"To the theatre! You; in that dress!" exclaimed Royce.
"Oh, I went to the gallery. I have accepted the situation."
"Come and sit down and light a pipe," said Royce. "I won't bore youwith unavailing regrets. Tell me what you are going to do, and if I canhelp you at all."
"Thank you; I have thought it probable I should fail, and have debatedwith myself deliberately what course is best to adopt. I have come to aconclusion, and no one can help me. My first thought was that if Ifailed to be an officer I would be a private, and the more I havethought it over the more convinced I have become that that would suit mebetter than anything else. I have never learned a trade, so I could notbe a skilled artisan, and a soldier's life would suit me better thanthat of an ordinary day labourer, whose work requires no head-piece. Asfor spending my days in an office, a warehouse, or a shop, it would belike going to prison for me. In short, I am going to enlist, and havealso determined on the branch of the service which is to reap thebenefit."
"Cavalry, I suppose; Lancers, Dragoons, or Hussars?"
"Neither. I fixed on that arm at first; the uniform attracted me; thesword is a noble weapon; and to ride is pleasanter than to walk. Butthese advantages are more than counterbalanced by the lot ofaccoutrements a horse soldier has to clean, and the fact that at the endof a day's march he has to attend to his horse before he can look afterhimself."
"A great many gentlemen's sons go into the Artillery."
"I have settled upon the Infantry, and intend to-morrow morning to offermy invaluable services to the Foot Guards. You look surprised."
"Well, yes," said Royce. "To tell the truth I fancied that you would beanxious to get to India; there is more chance, you know, of promotionthat way."
"I have thought out that. But, to tell the truth, unless there were aprospect of active service I should prefer to remain in England, forthis sole reason. I do not give up all hope of that will turning up,and if it should, I want to be in the way of getting early information,and looking after my interests."
Royce sat in silent thought for a little while, and then said--
"I see what you mean, and upon my word I do not know how to advise youbetter."
And after a little more chat they went to bed.
Next morning, when Kavanagh was dressed, he turned to his bath with asad conviction that his morning ablutions must in future be of a muchless satisfactory nature, and he sighed, for this went more home to himthan almost anything. "Ta, ta, tub!" he said, as he closed the door.
He found Royce already in the sitting-room making the tea, and theybreakfasted together.
When the meal was over, Kavanagh rose and said--
"By-the-by, there is my gun; it is a full-choke, and a remarkably goodkiller if one only holds it straight. It was a present, and I did notlike to sell it. Will you have it as a memorial from a fellow to whomyou have been uncommonly kind? Good-bye, and thank you for all."
"Good-bye," said Royce, in a voice which he had a difficulty to keepsteady. "I hope luck will turn for you soon; but I feel sure it will.And if you have forgotten anything, or I can do anything for you, mindyou come to me, or write if I am out of town. Good-bye again."
Kavanagh wrung his old captain's hand and hurried down-stairs, leavinghim with a ball in his throat and moisture very near his eyes.
"Thank goodness that is over!" he murmured, as he left the Temple. "Nowfor the barracks."
Instead of offering himself to one of the outside recruiters, he wentstraight to the Orderly Room, and told a sergeant waiting outside thathe wished to join. So he was brought before the Adjutant almost atonce. He stood six feet in his stockings, and measured forty-one inchesround the chest, so there was no difficulty about his acceptance. Theyjumped at him like a trout at a May fly.
He gave his real name, Reginald Kavanagh. "If I were ashamed of what Iam doing, I would not do it," he reasoned. And besides, he wished to betraced with the greatest possible ease should the missing will be found.
Of course the life at first was extremely hard, and the companionship ofsome of his comrades very distasteful to him, but he took care not toshow it. And others were as good fellows as ever stepped, and with themhe made friends.
The fact of his knowing his drill thoroughly made matters easier forhim, and he soon learned how to clean his arms and accoutrements, makehis bed, and so forth. And by dint of unhesitating obedience to orders,even when foolish, and never answering or arguing with superiors, he gota good name without subserviency.