by Lewis Hough
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
TRINKITAT.
The _Alligator_ troopship came tearing along the Red Sea, sending thespray flying from her bows, and churning up the historical water withher screw, just as if it were ordinary commonplace sea-water, withoutany sacred, classical, or poetical associations! The men gathered onthe forecastle and the officers on the poop were alike gazing hard at atown of brilliant whiteness, which became more distinct every minute.
"And that is Suakim," said one of the group of officers. "It looks veryclean at a distance. What is it made of, doctor?"
Doctor MacBean was a middle-aged man who liked the society of young onesbecause he had one little weakness: he was very fond of holding forth,and young men were more inclined to listen patiently to him than olderones. He was a naturalist, a sportsman, and had been a great traveller.There are men who go through Greece, as they would through Surrey,gleaning nothing; but the doctor was not one of them. If he were only aday in a place he learned all about it, and what he learned heremembered. So that to be in his company was to have an encyclopaediaconveniently at hand, from which you could learn what you wanted to knowwithout the trouble of turning over the leaves. For the rest, such a_boy_ past forty there never was--ready for anything for sport or fun,even to a spice of practical joking; and with all this a grave Scottishface which imposed upon those who had not found him out. But in mattersof information he was trustworthy, his passion for fact overcoming hislove of mystification.
"Suakim is built of madrepore," he replied to the above question; "verycurious. Houses and mosques all of the same materials as these reefs weare now coming to."
"Madrepore--why, that is a sort of coral--isn't it?"
"Yes, it is coral."
"That's queer though. My shirt-studs are made of coral; fancy a townbuilt of shirt-studs!"
"Shirt-studs are quite a secondary use of the article; the principalbeing to help babies cut their teeth. Have you got your coral still,Green?"
Green was a very young subaltern, who had not been to a public school,and was somewhat easily imposed upon.
"No," he said; "at least not here. It is somewhere at home, I believe."
"That is right; you will want it when you come to cut your wisdom teeth.You know, I suppose, that you cannot get your company until you havedone that?"
"I knew I had to pass an examination," said Green, not convinced thatthis information was quite _bona fide_.
"Of course, but this is in addition to that. When a vacancy occurs, yousend in your certificate of having passed in tactics, and then you areordered to go to the Veterinary College, and there they look in yourmouth."
"But I am not a _horse_!" exclaimed Green.
"No, but the rule applies to other animals," said his tormentor,gravely.
"I know you are chaffing me," said Green, and indeed the roars oflaughter were alone sufficient to show him that.
"But all the same, it is curious that a town should be built of child'scorals."
"That is why it has been selected as a good station for infantry," saida young fellow amidst a chorus of groans.
"I tell you what it is, Tom," said one of the captains; "I will not haveyou in my company if you do that again. The man who would make a badpun and a hackneyed pun in such beautiful scenery as this, would--Idon't know what enormity he would _not_ commit. Come late on parade,very likely."
"Oh, no!" said Tom Strachan, for the lieutenant was no other then ourold friend, "I hope I know better than to infringe on the privileges ofmy superior officers."
A general grin showed that Strachan had scored there; for Fitzgerald,his captain, was noted for slipping into his place just in time to avoidreprimand, and no sooner. But he could not make any reply withoutfitting the cap; so he grinned too.
"Is Suakim an island?" he asked.
"Not now," replied MacBean. "When I was last here it was, but sincethat Gordon has had a causeway made to the mainland. There, you can seeit now," he added, as the vessel steamed through a gap in the outercoral reef.
"I wonder whether these passages in the reef were made by cutting thecoral out to build the town," said another.
"No," replied the doctor. "Their origin is rather curious. Sometimes,in the wet season, torrents rush down from the mountains to the sea, andthe fresh water kills the polypus which makes the coral, and so stopsthe formation of it just there, and makes an opening. This theory isconfirmed by the fact that all such passages through the reefs areimmediately opposite valleys."
"The town looks like a large fortification; I suppose the dwelling-houses are behind the walls."
"No, those are the houses; and what look from here like loopholes arethe windows. The place is worth looking over, though you won't havemuch time for that, I expect, nor yet for boating amongst the curiouscoral caves, or looking at the queer creatures which serve for fish andhaunt them, until you have chawed up the Hadendowas and got Osman Dignain a cage."
"Not then, I hope," said one of the seniors of the group. "I hope theywill send us across to Berber, when Osman's forces are swept from thepath."
"I doubt if they will," replied the doctor, shaking his head. "It willbe frightfully hot in a couple of months."
"It is the only way to save Gordon."
"I fear you are right, but I hope not. But here is a boat coming off tous."
It was a man-of-war's boat dashing along with the smart, lively strokewhich can never be mistaken. It was alongside presently, and almost themoment it touched, the naval officer they had seen in the stern sheetsstood on the quarter-deck; a harlequin could not have done it morequickly.
"It is a mistake your coming in here, sir," he said to the commandingofficer; "you are to go to Trinkitat."
So the chance of closely investigating a coral town, and seeing howclosely or otherwise it resembled a similar sort of colony in anextravaganza, was lost for the present for the First Battalion of theBlankshire, who growled. And yet, oh fortunate ones! If they but knewit, they gained two more comfortable meals, and one comfortable night'slodging, by having to go on.
For they did not anchor in Trinkitat harbour till it was too late toland that night. The delay caused a last rise to be taken out of poorGreen, or rather a final allusion to a long-standing one. When thebattalion got its route for the Soudan, the lad was as keen to seeactive service as any one of them, and it was a severe shock to him whenone of the most mischievous of his brother officers pretended todiscover that one of his legs was crooked, which would incapacitate him,he feared, from marching across the desert.
"You would knock up in an hour's march, and have to be carried, youknow," said the tormentor; "it would never do."
"I am sure my legs seem to me all right," urged poor Green.
"Well, of course, I may be quite in error," candidly admitted the other."We will ask a doctor."
So Doctor MacBean was called in, and he made an examination of theaccused limb.
"Dear, dear!" he said, "however were you passed for the army? The_scarsal bone_ of the _fons ilium_ is all out of drawing."
"But you won't tell, doctor?" pleaded poor Green; "it does notinconvenience me in the least, I assure you."
"Not now, perhaps," said the doctor, nodding his head; "but after a longmarch in sand, it might be serious. I am very sorry, but I must do myduty."
But, being much entreated, the doctor was persuaded to try what aninvention of his own, which he spoke diffidently of, would do. SoGreen's leg was done up in splints for twenty-four hours, and thenplaistered up. And after a bit the doctor saw so much improvement thathe agreed to say nothing about it, and so Green sailed with the rest.
"How is your _fons ilium_, Green?" he was asked that evening in thesaloon.
"Hush!" he whispered, anxiously; "the colonel will hear you! I am allright. I'll walk you ten miles through the deepest sand we meet withfor a sovereign."
"Thank you; no amount of sovereigns would tempt me to accept theresponsibility of putting your s
carsal bone to so severe a test. But Iam glad it is so much stronger; very glad. I would not have theregiment miss the aid of your stalwart arm on any consideration. Nevershall I forget the way you delivered that Number 3 cut which caughtMercer such a hot one the other day, when you were playing singlestickon the deck. I say, by-the-by, have you had your sword sharpened?"
"Yes!" replied Green, with enthusiasm. "It has a good butcher's-knifeedge upon it; so the corporal said, who ground it for me. It is quiteas sharp as my pocket-knife."
"I am not quite so soft as they take me for," he added, confidentially,to Strachan presently.
"Of course you are not, my dear fellow," said Tom. "I doubt if it wouldbe possible."
"Now that MacBean, the doctor, you know: did you hear what he said aboutthe fresh water coming down from the hills in the rainy season, andmaking gaps in the coral because fresh water killed the insects thatmake the coral?"
"Yes, I heard him," said Strachan, wondering what fault Green could findwith what seemed to him a very lucid explanation.
"As if I was going to swallow that!" said the other. "The rainy season,indeed! Why, every one knows that rain never falls in Egypt."
"But, my dear fellow, this isn't Egypt for one thing, and it rainssometimes everywhere, I expect," said Tom, who was somewhat tired ofimposing on the innocence of Green, who was a very willing and good-tempered lad. "Do you know you remind me of a very old story of asailor-lad who returned home to his grandmother after a cruise in thesevery waters. It may be familiar to you."
"I don't remember it," said Green.
"Well, it is really so apt that I will tell it."
"`What did you see that was curious, Jack?' asked the old woman. `Well,granny, there were flying fish; they came right out of the water andflew on the deck, and we picked them up on it.' The old woman laughedand shook her head. `What else, Jack?' `Why, I wish you could see thesea at night in them parts, granny; where the ship disturbs the water itall sparkles, and you can see her track a long way, like a regular roadof fire.' `Ha, ha! Go it, Jack. What else?' Jack's budget of factwas exhausted for the moment, so he had to take refuge in fiction.`Well, when we were in the Red Sea, you know, we hauled up the anchor,and we found a carriage-wheel on one of the flukes. A queer old wheelit was. And the chaplain, he looked at it and found the maker's name,which was that of Pharaoh's coach-builder. So he said there was nodoubt it belonged to his army, when he followed the Israelites afterthey had gone out of Egypt.' `Ah, now you are telling me what is worthlistening to!' cried the old woman. `We know that Pharaoh's host wasdrowned in the Red Sea, and that they had a many chariots. It is likeenough you should fish one of the wheels up. But to try to stuff yourpoor old granny that fish can fly, and water take fire! For shame, youlimb!'"
Green was a bit thoughtful, and puzzled over the application of thisfable; but Strachan having to hurry off on duty, he could not questionhim further.
Every one was on deck by daybreak next morning, and the bustle of theday commenced. The _Alligator_ was rather a late arrival, and the shorewas already white with tents, large and small, circular and square, thecamp being protected by an earthwork and a trench, which came down tothe sea on each side, entirely enclosing it on that of the land, whileon the other it was protected by the harbour and its gunboats.
But there was not much time for gaping; launches and boats of variouskinds were alongside presently, and the work of disembarkationcommenced. It did not take long, for a number of little piers had beenmade, rude enough, but answering their purpose, and several boats couldland their passengers at them at once. Then there was an officer readyto show them where to get their tents, and it was not long before theFirst Blankshire had added several streets to the canvas town.
They had hardly done that, however, and were still telling off men forthe various regimental duties, when they were called upon to find alarge fatigue party for the public service. And now, if any men feltthe cramping effects of life in a small compass on board ship, they hadplenty of opportunity for stretching their limbs and getting theirmuscles into full play.
The sailors, for the most part, brought the cargoes ashore, and the waythey worked was marvellous. They bundled bales and boxes into the boatsas if the ship were on fire and they had only a few minutes to save themin; they rowed them to the strand as if they were racing in a regatta,and they got them out on the jetties before dockyard hands at home wouldhave quite made up their minds what bale they should begin with.
And they laughed and chaffed, and seemed to think it the best fun out.Such energy was infectious, and "Tommy Atkins," without coat or braces,and with his shirt sleeves rolled up above his elbows, tried to emulate"Jack." Some of the goods they had to pile up on the shore; some tocarry to the commissariat stores; and some, again, to the ordnancedepartment. If free perspiration was the best thing for health andvigour, they were going the right way to work to obtain those blessings.
There was a lad in Fitzgerald's company, that in which Strachan waslieutenant, upon whom these new duties fell very hard. His name wasJames Gubbins, and he enlisted because he found it hard to obtain anyother employment. And no wonder, for never was there such an awkwardmortal. He broke the hearts of corporals and sergeants, and theofficers of his company would fain have got rid of him. But he wasperfectly able-bodied, and the surgeon was bound to pass him. Neitherwould the colonel help them; the man was well conducted, healthy, andtried his best. "He would make a good soldier in time," he said.Perhaps so, but the process was tedious. One lad, who joined as arecruit a month after Gubbins, learned his drill, went to his duty, wasmade a lance-corporal, and had the drilling of the squad in whichGubbins was still toiling at the rudiments.
He got perfect in the manual exercise, and was dismissed from recruitdrill at last however, and even learned to shoot, after he had oncetaken in the part of the back-sight of his rifle which was to be alignedwith the fore-sight, haziness about which nearly caused several badaccidents, as his bullets went wandering dangerously near the butts tothe right and left of that where he was supposed to be firing.
By the time he passed muster he was indeed a valuable soldier, if thevalue of a thing depends upon the trouble taken to manufacture it. Andnow poor Gubbins had more to learn! It may seem very easy to turn acrank, to pump, to shoulder a box, to help carry a bale, or to push at acapstan bar, and this certainly is not skilled labour. Yet there is away of doing each of these things in a painful, laborious, knuckle-cutting, shoulder-bruising, toe-smashing manner, and a comparativelyeasy and comfortable one.
And James Gubbins invariably did the worst for himself possible. I dowish that a special artist had seen him trying to help sling a mule onone occasion, and endeavouring to take a similar animal to the placeappointed on shore for it on another. Words can do no justice to thosescenes.
Another adventure, however, I will try to describe. A naval officerengaged in transport came up to Tom Strachan, who was in charge of halfhis company on fatigue duty, and said--
"Look here, do you see that steamer with a green funnel? Well, thereare stores on board, for your regiment mostly. A whole lot of shellshave to be landed this afternoon, and all my men are at work at that. Iwish you would take that lighter, and let your fellows go off to thesteamer and unload it. We should bring you the stores, as a rule, foryou to carry up from the jetty, only we are short-handed."
"All right," said Tom.
The lighter was propelled by large oars, or sweeps, and James Gubbinsfound there was yet another trial for him in this weary world--that ofendeavouring to row with one of these things. But he was so clumsy, andimpeded the others to such an extent, that they pushed him on one sideand told him to keep quiet.
When they got alongside, a rope was thrown up and caught by a sailor ondeck, and Strachan went up a rope ladder to see exactly what had to bedone. The stores were as yet in the hold, and the first job would be tohoist them out of it; so the lighter would not be wanted alongside forsome time.
The sailors let it drop astern, and then made it fast.
"Now then, men, you are wanted on deck; look alive!" cried Strachan.
The sergeant in the lighter looked puzzled how to get on board for amoment; but seeing a grin on a sailor's face, and at the same timeobserving a rope hanging from the taffrail close to him, he seized,pulled at it, and finding it firm at the top end, swarmed up itpresently. It was not far to go, or a difficult operation, so theothers followed.
Then they manned the crane, by which a chain with a big hook to it waslowered into the hold, as if to fish for something. And a bale havingbeen caught, it was wound up, slewed round, and deposited on the deck.
When this had been going on a little time Strachan called out--
"Where's Gubbins?"
"Gubbins, sir," said the sergeant; "is he not here? No, he is not.Where can he have got to? Gubbins!"
He went aft and looked into the lighter; there was no one there, and hewas turning away again, when he heard a voice in tremulous accentscrying--
"Help! Help! Do pull me up, some one, or send a boat. He will haveme--I know he will! He will jump presently; and if he doesn't, I can'thold on much longer. Help! Oh, lor! Help!"
There was James Gubbins clinging to the rope by which the others hadcome on board. He had waited till the last, and then attempted tofollow. There were two knots in the rope, one near the bottom, theother some five feet higher, and by grasping it above the top one withhis hands, and above the lower one with his ankles, he managed not tofall into the water. For the lighter had floated clear of him. As forswarming up the rope without the aid of knots, he might as well havetried to dance on the tight rope.
Now to fall in the water would of itself have been a serious thing topoor Gubbins, who, of course, could not swim; but to add to his terrorthere was a shark, plainly visible, his back fin indeed now and thenrising out of the water, swimming round and round, opening his mouth,but by no means shutting his eyes, to see what luck would send him. Andgood rations and regular meals, with something a day to spend in beer,had agreed with James, who had not been accustomed before enlisting toeat meat every day. He was plump, and enough to make any shark's mouthwater.
The sergeant called for assistance, and Gubbins was hauled up. He got agood many bumps against the side before he was safely landed on thedeck, but he stuck to his rope like a limpet, and came bundling on boardat last.
And then, when he felt himself out of the reach of those cruel jawswhich had threatened him for a time, which seemed to him long enough, henearly fainted.
After this experience, if James Gubbins ever learned to swim, it wouldhave to be after his return to England, for nothing could persuade himto go into the waters of the Red Sea. And so he missed the principalpleasure which hard-worked "Tommy Atkins" enjoyed at that period. Forwhen the work of the day was over, bathing parade was the great featureof the evening, and the margin of the strand was crowded with soldiers,swimming, wading, diving, splashing, playing every imaginable game inthe water, for, however tired they might be, the refreshing plunge gavethem fresh life and vigour.
And, by-the-by, why is the British soldier called "Tommy Atkins?" Ibelieve that there are plenty of people who use the term and don't know.The nickname arose simply from the fact that every company has aledger, in which each man's accounts are kept. So much pay andallowance on the credit side, so much for deductions on the debit, withthe balance. The officer commanding the company signs to the one, thesoldier himself to the other. On the first page of this book there is aform filled in, for the guidance of any new pay sergeant who may have tomake out the accounts, and in this the fancy name of the supposedsoldier is printed in the place where he has to sign, and this fancyname is "Thomas Atkins." But upon the point of who was the first personto generalise the name, and how it came about that his little joke wastaken up and came into common use, history is dumb.
This is a digression, and I suppose, according to the ideas of somepeople, I ought to ask you to pardon it, for I observe that that is acommon plan upon such occasions. But I do nothing of the kind. If Ithought it needed pardon I should not have made it; and you ought to beglad to improve your mind with a little bit of useful information. Butyou knew it all before? Well, how could I tell _that_, I should like toknow.
Whether the sharks were good old-fashioned Mohammedans, who would notbite on the side of the Mahdi, or whether the number of British soldiersin the water together, and the noise they made, overawed them, they didnot attempt any supper in that direction, and the men enjoyed their bathwith impunity.
The work went on day after day for some time, always at high pressure,and the men got into rare good training for marching or any other kindof work. And they had plenty of water to drink, for the steamers in theharbour were perpetually at work condensing the salt-water, which turnsit, as you probably know, into fresh. Pipes then conveyed it on shore,where it was received in tanks and barrels. And the want of naturalsprings, and the consequent necessity of having recourse to anartificial supply, were not without advantage.
For the only water which can be got for troops when campaigning is veryoften polluted, and the men get dysentery from drinking it, whereas thiswas necessarily quite pure. And probably owing to this cause there waswonderfully little sickness. A terrified horse gave trouble in thelanding him one day, and Tom Strachan, who was with the fatigue partywhich had to do it, lent his personal assistance, and with success, buthe grew warm over the job.
As he was wiping the perspiration from his forehead Major Elmfoot rodeup.
"Well, Strachan," he said, "how do you like this work? Do you want itover that you may begin fighting the Arabs?"
"Well, yes, sir," replied Tom. "A little of it goes a good way, and wehave had more than a little. Still, we should not get on well withoutgrub or cartridges, should we, sir?"
"No, my lad, you are right there; and I am glad to see you are aphilosopher."
"Am I that, sir? Well, it is no use grumbling, but I am glad it ispretty nearly over."
"Pretty nearly over, you think it, do you?" said the major, drily."Then the stores are to walk up to Fort Baker by themselves, I suppose."
"Have we got to--," began Tom, in dismay.
"Yes, we have," replied Major Elmfoot to his unfinished query; "and youare to knock off this job and start off on the other one at once."
It was a peculiarity of the major's to preface an order in that way--that is, to prepare you for something quite different, and then take youaback. If you were just going to dinner, and he had a duty for youwhich would cause you to defer that meal, he would begin by asking ifyou were hungry. He did not mean to be aggravating; it was only a wayhe had; but it was rather trying sometimes.
Fort Baker was about three miles from Trinkitat harbour; it was erectedby Baker Pasha on the second of the month which was now drawing to aclose, that is the February of 1884, when he was in command of theEgyptian army which was cut to pieces by the Arabs on the fifth. Thereis no fresh water nearer that part of the coast than the wells at ElTeb, eight miles off; so every drop of the precious liquid for the useof the troops had to be first condensed at Trinkitat, and then carriedin tanks of galvanised iron on camel or mule back to the fort. Threemiles do not sound like a long distance, and on good ground are not veryfar. But the greater part of this track lay through marshes, and for amile it was very bad indeed. But all were in good spirits, for ittranspired that this was the last of that sort of work the two companiesof the Blankshire employed in it were to have for the present. Theywere to take their arms and accoutrements with them and remain at FortBaker till the rest of the battalion joined them. But it was hard workto get the unfortunate baggage animals along.
"I say, sergeant, what am I to do with this campbel now?" asked asoldier, alluding not to a clansman of the famous Highland chief, but toa ship of the desert which had sunk down in the mud, making the mosthorrible noises imaginable, and seemed likely to be swallowed up after abit.
"No, no," said the sergeant, glancing towards his captain, and with afrown at the man which was half a wink, intimating that if it could bedone quietly and unofficially a little gentle persuasion used towardsthe Egyptian driver might expedite matters.
"What's up?" asked the captain, turning back.
"A camel that's down, sir," replied the sergeant.
Tom Strachan put the case in the form of an old nursery jingle, which hemurmured for the benefit of another subaltern, Williams, who was by hisside at the moment.
"Captain, captain slang sergeant; sergeant won't swear at private;private won't kick Egyptian; Egyptian won't stir up camel; camel won'tget out of that; and C Company won't reach Fort Baker to-night."
The captain was equal to the occasion, however.
"Look here, you know," he said to the native driver; "if you don't makethat camel go on with that load, you and your two mates will have tocarry it yourselves, don't you know."
Whether the "Johnnies," as Private Smith called them, understood allthis is perhaps doubtful, as their English was peculiar, but the toneand gesture which accompanied the words were very intelligible, and theEgyptian began to unload the poor bogged beast with great alacrity.
The soldiers, seeing his purpose, helped him, leaving the two otherincluded natives to go on with other camels, and soon the goods carriedby the fallen one were conveyed to a sounder place. The wallowinganimal being beaten and prodded, emerged from the mud uttering unearthlycries, and was then reloaded, still objecting loudly, and on he wentagain.
There was no difficulty in catching the others up; other mules andcamels in front were in a similar plight. These were also unloaded, andthen the men pulled and pushed and heaved them out, first taking offtheir shoes and stockings, and rolling their trousers up as far as theycould.
One man, finding that even so he got those garments sorely bemired, sodeep was the slush, took them off altogether; others followed hisexample, hanging their trousers round their necks. But no one need havebeen shocked, their limbs were by no means bare, but decently clothed inlong clay stockings.
"I say, Tom," said Williams to Strachan, "fancy the regiment turning outlike that for Commanding Officers' parade at Aldershot!"
James Gubbins managed to distinguish himself as usual, for he let afloundering mule knock him over and roll upon him. Having to help theanimal out, he seized one of his hind legs and hauled at it, with thisresult--
"Look at Gubbins!" cried one of his comrades; "blest if he hasn't beentaking a cast of hisself in clay. Going to have a marble statty, oldman?"
"You ought to have a photo taken to send home to your sweetheart, Jim."
"Pity it's the end of February, and not the beginning; what a lovelyvalentine he would make, surely."
"It's easy to laugh at a chap," spluttered Gubbins, "but this stufftastes awful; and however shall I clean myself for inspection?"
"Never mind, old chap, you'll be confined to barracks, and then themJohnnies with the spears can't get at you."
"If any chap had a drop of rum instead of jaw to give a chap with hismouth full of filth, there would be more sense in it," said the victim;and it was one of the wisest remarks he had made for a long time. Somegood Samaritan _had_, and administered it, and Gubbins was consoled.
"You have made these Egyptians work," said Tom to his captain.
"Yes, I flatter myself I know how to treat those fellows."
"Oh!" cried Tom.
"What's the matter?" asked Fitzgerald.
"Nothing; only if a poor sub had done it!"
"Done what?"
"Well, you know, it was one of the jokes which were tabooed by generalconsent."
"Get out!"
But it must be owned that though he meant nothing so atrocious as TomStrachan implied, the captain did pronounce _fellow_ like Fellah!
The fort was reached at last, and never a mule or camel left on the way.There were some salt-water puddles at the end of the worst part of it,and in these the men contrived to wash the mud off their limbs beforeresuming their nether garments. Ward the quartermaster was there beforethem; and he had a rough tent in which to receive the officers of thetwo companies, and he treated them to ginger-beer and tea. Ward was anold campaigner, who had seen no end of service--been frozen in theCrimea, broiled in India, devoured by stinging insects on the GoldCoast. Strachan liked to listen to his yarns, and was in consequencerather a favourite of his. And if you are going on a campaign, it isnot half a bad thing to be on good terms with a doctor, a quartermaster,or any other staff officer. They always have a bite or a drop ofsomething should you happen to come across them when nobody else has.
"You didn't expect this kind of work when you thought, as a boy, how youwould like to go into the army, eh?" he asked him.
"No," said Tom, laughing; "they don't enter into these little details inbooks. It's mostly feasting and fighting, with other fellows gettingkilled, that a school-boy looks forward to."
"Ah, the fighting is the best of it; there is something to keep yougoing in that. Give me the chap that will stand hunger, thirst,fatigue, want of sleep, and fever, and be as jolly as a sand-boy all thetime. That's the sort for a soldier."
"But all that would be no good if he would not stand up when the pinchcame."
"Of course not; but a fairly bred one--I mean English, German, French,Italian, Dutch--is bound to stand if he is properly trained and led. Ifhe is rightly drilled it does not occur to him to run away unless hiscomrades do; and then, after a bit, he gets excited. Then, as togenerals; I don't say that it's an easy thing to fight an army well, butit is easier than to feed it. I tell you all the real art of war liesin little details that no one ever talks about."
"Then you are not a hero worshipper, Ward?"
"Not I, I have seen too much. I take no credit from men who getmentioned in despatches, win the Victoria Cross, and so forth; but thereis a lot of luck in it. Heaps of men deserve these prizes just as muchas those who get them. Indeed, the most deserving of all get killed outof hand, and make no claim. You see, one man does a thing with aflourish, which attracts notice, and is popular, and gets watched; andanother is quiet and retiring, and afraid that if he pushes himself hemay not prove as valuable an article as he has led people to expect; anda smart or plucky thing which gives promotion, or the Victoria Cross, tothe first, merely elicits a `well done, old fellow!' from his mates forthe second."
"And that's worth risking a good bit for!" cried Green, with his eyessparkling, and a heightened colour.
"Hark to Green! Good lad! By Jove, he's right!" Green blushed.
"Why are you like King Duncan's blood on Lady Macbeth's hand, Edwards?"asked Tom Strachan of the last speaker.
"I can never guess riddles," said Edwards. "Give it up."
"Because you have made the Green one red," said Strachan.
"_You_ will never miss the Victoria Cross for want of cheek, at anyrate," said Fitzgerald.
"I am glad of that," replied Tom, "as I have my plan for it. I mean tostick behind you the first time you go to do anything heroic, and if youget killed I shall hope to get the credit of your action."
"So you want me to be knocked on the head, do you, you young villain?"
"Not at all, sir; no one can say I would rather have your room than yourcompany."
"What _are_ the boys coming to?" cried Fitzgerald. "When I was a sub, Ino more dared to speak to my captain like that than to--to walk offparade without permission," he added, after pausing to think what wasthe highest possible stretch of mortal impudence.
"Perhaps your captain had not your appreciation of wit," replied Tom.
"Wit, indeed! You call your bad puns wit, do you?"
Next day the rest of the troops marched in from Trinkitat, andbivouacked outside the fort. They had made a fair start, and commencedthe campaign now, and the novelty of eating their evening meal in theopen, by the light
of a bonfire, had a charm for some of the young ones.The officers' mess of the First Blankshire was held round an ovaltrench. A coat thrown on the earth dug out of it served for a seat; thefeet were placed in it, and the pewter plate with food on it was held onthe knees. This is infinitely more comfortable than feeding in acramped position on the ground.
Though they knew all about it before, it seemed strange to theinexperienced to lie down at night in the open, like animals, instead ofgoing to bed, but some were so tired that, not being on duty, theyrolled themselves up in the coats they had been sitting on, and courteda nap directly they had done feeding.
Those who did so, however, were presently aroused by a tremendouscheering, which made them jump up, and run to see what had happened. Itwas the arrival of the Sixty-fifth, who had been stopped on their returnfrom India, and sent to Trinkitat instead of England. They had onlylanded that afternoon, and had marched on at once. It was not long,however, before the challenge of the sentries, and the snores ofsleepers alone broke the silence of the little host, lying stretched inslumber under the faint light of the new moon. Their sleep wasdisturbed by showers of rain, which interfered with all but the verysound, and even these were fairly roused at last by a regular drencher,the water coming down tropical fashion, in bucketfuls.
"Halloa, Green!" said Strachan, to that young hero, whom he foundstanding in astonishment, drenched, but not dismayed. "Do you believethat it rains sometimes in the Soudan, now?"
"I do," replied Green, solemnly. "Books talk nonsense."
"I wish it was time to start," said Edwards, joining them. "It seems soabsurd to stand here saturated, with no possibility of resting oneself,when one might be getting on."
"It is more than half-past four, and reveille is to sound at five.Let's try and light the fire again; there's a bit smouldering, in spiteof the rain."
This was Strachan's suggestion, and voted a good one; and they had justsucceeded in raising a blaze, when a bugle started the most romantic,melancholy, musical call in the whole category. I mean in itself, andnot for its associations; and yet when one thinks how many thousands ofbrave men have been roused by it to go to death, it is not free fromthese. Number one only got about three notes start, when a secondbegan, and presently the whole air was full of plaintive sound.
Then flickers of fire shone out, and coffee was boiled, and the men gottheir breakfasts. Then, after a while, the Fall-in sounded, and thedifferent corps and detachments stood to their arms. The commandingofficer of the First Blankshire went round the ranks, and spoke to themen here and there. He did not remark on the mud which still clove toJames Gubbins, but he stopped opposite Green.
"Why, what is the matter, Green; where and how are you hurt?" he asked.
"I, sir?" said Green, in astonishment; "I believe I am all right."
"Why, you are bleeding like a pig!" And so he was, from his right ear.
"I must have cut it with my sword, sir, carrying it carelessly. Iforgot that I had had it sharpened."
"Well, it can't be very bad, if you did not know it," said the colonel,laughing as he rode on. The bleeding stopped presently, but not beforeit had made Green's kharkee sleeve and his sword, down which there hadbeen a trickle, look exceedingly warlike.
"He has fleshed his maiden blade!" said Tom Strachan.