by G. A. Henty
“I have a flask,” the major replied. “I will get it for you at once.”
“We may as well be off, Wyatt,” Captain Lister said to Frank; “it is of no use your waiting here any longer. We can do no good.”
“I am sorry he is hurt so,” Frank said, as they drove off.
“Then you will be the only man that is,” Captain Lister replied. “You have rid the army of a pest; that is to say, you have rendered him harmless. Possibly he may not retire. There are plenty of men in the service who have lost an arm; however, I should think he will go. The disgrace will be worse to him than the wound.”
“Still, I am heartily sorry that I hurt him so much,” Frank repeated. “I meant to take off one or two of his fingers, and spoil his shooting for the rest of his life; but I never thought of the ball going up his arm as it did.”
“Well, if you had not hit him where you did, you would be lying on that stretcher now. It was a close thing between the two shots, not more than a fifth of a second, I should say, and if you had only hit him in the body, I have no doubt that he would have fired before he fell; and if ever a man meant to kill another, he did. I could see it in his eye, as he stood there waiting for the signal. Well, Wyatt, you can stop in the army until you get to be a general, but one thing is morally certain, that after this affair no one will venture to insult you, and your first duel is likely to be your last.”
“I sincerely trust so,” Frank said gravely. “I think I can say that assuredly I shall never be the first to insult anyone else, and that if ever I fight again, it will, as in this case, not be in my own quarrel.”
As they drove along the straight road towards the barracks, they saw a number of men clustered outside the gate.
“They are on the look-out,” Captain Lister said. “They will have heard from the mess waiters the news of the quarrel last night, and I don’t suppose there was a soul in barracks that did not know what our errand was when we drove out this morning. I expect if you had been killed they would have had to move either the Lancers’ depôt or ours away from Canterbury, for the men of the two regiments would have been sure to have fought whenever they met each other.”
As soon as they were near enough to the gates for their figures to be made out, there was a sudden movement among the men. Several took off their caps and waved them, while others threw them into the air.
“This is not exactly discipline, Wyatt,” Captain Lister said, with a smile; “but it shows conclusively enough that you are a favourite with the men.”
There were roars of cheering as they went in through the gates, in spite of Captain Lister holding up his hand and shaking his head. As they drove across the barrack square to Frank’s quarters the subalterns came rushing out. “Glad indeed to see you back again, Wyatt,” the first who run up exclaimed; “so it was arranged without fighting after all?”
“Not at all, Macalister,” Captain Lister replied, as he reined in the horse at Frank’s door. “Wyatt did exactly what he told me he was going to do—carried off Marshall’s trigger-finger. But the bullet did what he had not intended it should—ran up the arm and smashed it above the elbow, and the doctor says that he thinks the arm will have to come off.”
A shout of satisfaction rose from the group, and Wilmington grasped Frank’s hand as he leapt down.
“Thank God that you are safe, Wyatt,” he exclaimed. “I should never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you. Of course, what you said last night cheered me a good deal, but I could hardly help thinking afterwards that you had made the best of it for that purpose.”
“No, I did not, Wilmington. I felt absolutely confident that I should hit him on the hand. Now, I want some breakfast; I ordered it to be ready before I started.”
“Well, you are a cool hand, Wyatt,” Lister said. “If we ever get into a hand-to-hand affair with the French, I hope you will take me under your protection.”
“We will see about it,” Frank laughed. “Well, come up now. I ordered the breakfast for two, and I see Smith is bringing the dishes across from the kitchen.”
“Oh, I say, Wyatt, you must let the rest of us up too. We can’t wait to hear all about it until you have done.”
“Come up, by all means. There is really nothing to tell you.”
However, as the breakfast was being eaten, Captain Lister answered all questions.
“So he did not take it well,” one of the subalterns said. “That is just what you would expect from a fellow like that.”
“I don’t think we should be too hard on him in that respect. It is very trying to any man’s temper when he makes absolutely sure of doing a thing and is beaten by a novice. It was surprise, no doubt, as well as pain—and I fancy the pain was pretty sharp—that caused him to lose his temper. I expect that if he had been fighting with an old hand whom he thought dangerous, he would have borne the wound in a very different way. Now, look here, lads, there is one thing that you must bear in mind. Don’t treat this affair as if it were a sort of triumph for the corps. I have no doubt that all the fellows in the Lancers will be every bit as much pleased as we are, at the way things have turned out; but we must not assume that. I should say you had much better not make any allusion to the affair, unless others speak to you about it. Of course, it will make a great deal of talk; there is no getting over that. But don’t let it be a subject to be discussed in the mess-room. Duels between officers of different regiments have, before now, led to a lot of bad feeling, and I have known one such duel lead to half a dozen others. The Lancers are in no way to blame for Marshall’s conduct; but, if they found any disposition among us to crow over it, it might give rise to ill-feeling, which would be bad enough if it were merely two regiments in garrison together, but would be a terrible nuisance in a depôt where there is a common mess. Therefore, when the matter is talked over, as it is sure to be, it is best to let the talking be done by others, and to keep your own mouths closed. Wyatt is the last fellow in the world to wish to pose as a conquering hero.”
“Thank you, Lister,” Frank said. “I am sure I never wish to hear the thing mentioned again. I have taken a lot of pains to become a good shot, and it seems that I have a natural aptitude that way. There is nothing more to feel boastful about than if nature had made me a giant, and I had thereby been able to thrash a man of ordinary strength. I am very glad that I have put it out of Marshall’s power to bully other men, and, as he had several times done, to force them into duels, when his skill gave him such an advantage that it was nothing short of murder. I think that I shall go across to the major, and ask him to give me a fortnight’s leave. I have not been away since I joined, and I had a letter yesterday saying that my aunt was not very well; so I should like to run down to Weymouth to see her.”
“It would be a very good plan, Wyatt, and I am sure the major will give you leave at once.”
When he had finished his breakfast, Frank went across to the major’s quarters.
“I have not had time to congratulate you yet, Wyatt,” the major said warmly, as he entered. “You have rendered a service to the army in general, and to our regiment in particular; for it would have been a nasty thing if it had got about that one of us had been grossly insulted without taking the matter up. If you had not interfered, the commandant told me that he should have reported the matter at headquarters. Had Wilmington taken it up, he would have refused to let the matter go on, until he had received an answer from the Horse-guards; and he would have done the same in your case, if you had not used such strong language. Your words practically forced Marshall into challenging you. Still, although we, who were present, should all have approved of Wilmington’s not being allowed to throw away his life by going out with Marshall, one can’t deny that it would have caused unpleasantness. Those who only heard that one of our fellows had put up with a gross insult without taking any steps, and had, so to speak, sheltered himself under the authority of the commandant, would have considered it an ugly business, and we should have found it very unpleasant when we jo
ined the army in Spain. Therefore, we all feel very much indebted to you for having championed the honour of the regiment. You are a marvellous shot, lad, and you will have one satisfaction, which is, that when this affair is talked about, and it is known that you said beforehand that you intended to take off Marshall’s trigger-finger, and that you did it, there is no chance of your ever being forced into a quarrel as long as you remain in the army.”
“Thank you, Major. I have just come across to ask you if you will allow me a fortnight’s leave of absence. I really want to pay a visit to my aunt at Weymouth, and I think it will be a very good plan for me to get away from here until this affair has blown over a little.”
“A very good plan indeed, my lad. Certainly, you can have your leave. I will draw it out this moment, and take it over to the commandant, who will, I am sure, countersign it at once. Which way do you think of going?”
“I think I will go by the coach, that comes along here at twelve o’clock, to Dover; that is, if I see in the paper that there is any hoy sailing for the west this evening or tomorrow. The wind is in the east, and, with luck, I should get down there sooner than by going up to town and taking the coach.”
“Here is the list of sailings,” the major said, taking up a broad-sheet from a side table. “Yes, the hoy Keepsake will sail, weather permitting, from Dover this evening for Plymouth, touching at Southampton and Weymouth. That would just suit you. You had better not have more than a fortnight, for I think it likely we may get orders for the two troops to sail before long. Be sure and leave your address at the orderly-room.”
From the major’s Frank went straight to Strelinski’s lodging, and told him that he would have a fortnight’s holiday.
“I do not want it,” the Pole said; “but I am glad that you should have one, for you have been working very hard lately, and it is now nearly nine months since you came down here.”
“I will get you to write an account of my progress, Strelinski. I told Sir Robert Wilson that he should have one every three months, and the third is nearly due now. He was very pleased at your last report.”
“This will be even better, for you have been able to give a good deal more time to it, since you have not had so many drills. Besides, progress is not so manifest at first, until one is able to converse a little; after that it goes on rapidly.”
Strelinski at once sat down and wrote the report.
Frank read it with some interest, for Strelinski was not in the habit of saying what he thought of his progress.
“I think you have made this too strong,” he said, as he laid it down.
“Not at all,” the Pole replied. “We are able to talk freely now, and it is very seldom that you are at a loss for a word. I can say conscientiously that you are now able to converse rapidly and well in it. I could not say that your writing leaves nothing to be desired. Having acquired it so much by ear and conversation, you are not perfect in your grammar or construction when you write it; but that is of little consequence. Sir Robert Wilson will naturally write in his own language, and is not likely to have despatches to send in Russian. You are quite fit to act as an interpreter to deliver messages, and to carry on any ordinary conversation. There is a report that there has been a duel this morning, and that an officer was carried through the town on a stretcher.”
“Yes. The wound is not a very serious one, but he will probably lose his forearm.”
“And it was you who hit him,” the Pole said quietly.
“How do you know that, Strelinski?”
“I guessed it. You have told me how you were practising, and how well you were getting on. I guessed you had some special purpose for taking so much pains, and you did not come in yesterday evening as usual. Then, too, you tell me he was hit in the arm, and you mentioned the other day that you were practising at that, and showed me the iron hand you had had made to hold a pistol.”
“Well, yes, it was I. The fellow insulted a young comrade in my regiment, knowing well that he could not shoot; so I took it up, and there was an end of it.”
“I am glad I knew nothing about it until it was all over. I should have been very unhappy if I had known that you were going to risk your life.”
“I do not think there was any risk in it. As I told you, I have practised shooting very quickly, and felt sure that I should get first shot, and knew that there was no chance of my missing. The man was a dangerous fellow, and has fought many duels, but he will not now fight any more; and he will, I should think, leave the service. Well, I must not stay any longer, for I go by the twelve o’clock coach, and have to write a letter to Sir Robert Wilson before I start.”
Frank caught the coach without difficulty, and on arriving at Dover went down and took his berth on board the hoy.
“We shall start at eight sharp,” the skipper said.
“I will be on board in good time. I think you are likely to have a quick passage.”
“Yes, if the wind holds we shall be at Southampton tomorrow evening. I shall get out the cargo by torchlight, for with this wind I don’t want to lose an hour. I don’t know how much there will be to take in, but I reckon anyhow that we shall be off by nine o’clock in the morning, and if we have luck shall be at Weymouth before dark.”
Frank went on shore to the hotel and dined, and spent the time until the hour fixed for sailing in going over the fortifications. The voyage was a quick and pleasant one, and although the accommodation was rough it was vastly superior to that which he had been accustomed to when going out in the fishing boats. The skipper’s calculations as to time were verified, and they entered the river at Weymouth forty-eight hours after leaving Dover. Mrs. Troutbeck was delighted to see Frank. He had indeed written a fortnight before, saying he hoped to be able before long to get a few days’ leave and should come down to see her, and she was therefore not greatly surprised at his arrival.
“You have grown a good deal, my dear boy,” she said after they had chatted together for some time, “but you are not changed so much as I expected.”
“Well, Aunt, I don’t see how I can change much till the hair begins to grow on my face. Putting on uniform doesn’t in itself make one a man; but of course I feel older, and I think I have grown a bit. But there is no chance of my ever shooting up like Julian. Of course, you have heard nothing from him, Aunt, or you would have written to me at once!”
“Nothing, Frank. That fisherman, Bill, came in the other day, and said he had only heard what we knew before, that he had been sent to gaol, and that he had been marched away with a batch of prisoners somewhere inland. The smugglers could not learn what prison they had gone to. They said that the people of Nantes did not know that, as the guards who went with them from there only received orders to take them a short distance, and they were then handed over to other soldiers, who went so much further with them, and as their escort might be changed a dozen times not even the officials at Nantes had an idea where they were taken to at last.”
“No news of Markham, Aunt?”
“Only that he is one of the regular crew of that French lugger now.”
Frank looked up all his old friends and spent a pleasant week. His visit did his aunt a great deal of good, and the servant told him that she was quite a different woman since he had come home again.
“She missed you wonderful, Master Frank, and though she used to go about as usual, she did not seem to take an interest in things as she did before. I expect, now that she has seen you again, and has perked up a bit, she will fall into her old ways more regular. Now she has heard from you all about what you are doing, and your friends, and such like, and she knows that you are well and not changed, she will feel more comfortable, and won’t be always worriting herself. Mr. Henderson often comes in and talks about you, and that always seems to do her good. And Colonel Chambers, he looks in sometimes, and she tells me that they both think a great deal of you, and of course that pleases her; and she looks forward wonderful to your letters coming regular once a week. I don’t thin
k you need trouble yourself about her, Master Frank. She has not really much the matter with her; only you know it was always her way to worrit about things, and you can’t expect her to be otherwise, and I do think your coming here will do her a lot of good.”
Two mornings later one of the coast-guard came in. “Captain Downes will be glad, sir, if you will go on board; there is something particular that he wants to speak to you about.”
Frank at once put on his hat.
“We had a sharp fight with the smugglers last night, your honour,” the sailor said as they started. “We had been cruising about for two days to the west, and yesterday morning we made out to sea and held east, and at ten o’clock came into Swanage Bay. We came upon the lugger that has fooled us so many times, and for once we caught her napping. They were at work unloading a cargo when we came up, and she did not make us out until we were within a couple of cables’-length of her, then she slipped and ran; I expect she would have shown us her heels as usual, but we gave her a broadside, and that big spar of hers came down with a run, and we were alongside in no time. They made a tough fight of it, but pretty nigh half her crew were ashore with the kegs. Howsomever we were not long in beating them below, though two or three of our chaps were pretty badly hurt, and three of theirs killed before the scrimmage was over. We did not trouble about the chaps ashore. I expect they were accounted for all right, for we heard some pistol shots there, but we came back here at once with the lugger, and got in two hours ago.”
“Are the prisoners all French?” Frank asked eagerly.
“Ay, sir, just as French as can be. I was one of the party as took them ashore and lodged them in jail; and there was no doubt about their all being French. They had all got rings in their ears; besides, you could tell from the cut of their jib that they were Frenchies.”
In ten minutes Frank stepped on to the deck of the Boxer. Captain Downes met him there. “I congratulate you, Mr. Wyatt,” he said warmly. “I suppose you have been hearing that we had a sharp tussle with the smugglers, and at last captured that confounded lugger that has given us so much trouble for the past two years. Though I am mightily pleased at that, I am more pleased still that among those on board was that fellow Markham. He fought like a tiger. I reckon he knew that his neck was in a noose, for he would, of course, have heard from his friends here that the matter of Faulkner’s murder had been cleared up, and there was a warrant out against him. Well, he got a pistol shot in his chest, and after it was all over we found that he was pretty near gone. As soon as a lantern was put to his face two or three of the men knew him at once, and I went up to him. He was pretty well past speaking, but as I stooped over him he said, ‘You have got me this time, Captain Downes, and no mistake. Well, it don’t make much matter; I was getting sick of the life. You look in the pocket of my jacket when I am gone, and you will find a letter there. I swore to young Wyatt that I would clear him of that charge of shooting Faulkner. I shot him myself, and I have put it all down there.’