"Of tillage, timber, herds, and hives, thus far My trivial lay--while Caesar thunders war To deep Euphrates, conquers, pacifies, Twice wins the world and now attempts the skies.
Pardon thy Virgil that Parthenope Sufficed a poor tame scholar, who on thee Whilom his boyish pastoral pipe essayed, --Thee, t.i.tyrus, beneath the beechen shade."
He closed the book.
"Lord Wellington is not a Caesar," he said and paused, musing: then, in a low voice, "Parthenope--Parthenope--and to-morrow "Arms and the man." Boy," said he sharply, "we do not translate the Aeneid."
"No, sir?"
"Mr. Rogers calls for you to-night. A draft of the 52nd Regiment sails from Plymouth to-morrow. You will find, when you join it in Spain, that--that my son-in-law"--he hesitated and spoke the word with a certain prim deliberateness--"has been gazetted to an ensigncy in that gallant regiment. I may tell you that he owes this to no intervention of mine, but solely to the generosity of Miss Belcher. Before departing--I will do him so much justice--he spoke to me very frankly of his past, and for my daughter"s sake and his father"s I trust that, as under Providence you were an instrument in averting its consequences, so you may sound him yet to some action which, whether he lives or falls, may redeem it. Mr. Rogers will sup with us to-night. If I mistake not, I hear his wheels on the road."
He drew himself up to his full height and bowed. "You have done a service, boy, to the honour of two families. I thank you for it, and shall not omit to remember you daily when I thank G.o.d. Shall we go in?"
I had, as I said just now, almost forgotten my fears of the Law: but that the Law had not relaxed its interest in me was evident from my friends" precautions. Night had fallen before Mr. Rogers rose from table and gave the word for departure, and after exchanging some formal farewells with Major Brooks, and some very tender ones with Isabel, I was packed in the tilbury and driven off into darkness in which the world seemed uncomfortably large and vague and my prospects disconcertingly ill lit.
"D"ye know what _that_ is?" asked Mr. Rogers at the end of five minutes, pulling up his mare and jerking his whip towards a splash of white beside the road.
"No, sir."
He pulled a rein, and brought the light of the offside lamp to bear on a milestone with a bill pasted upon it.
"A full, particular, and none too flattering description of you, my lad, with an offer of twenty pounds. And I"m a Justice of the Peace!
Cl"k, la.s.s!"
On went the mare; and I, who had been feeling like a needle in a bundle of hay, now shrank down within my wraps as though the night had a thousand eyes.
We reached the village of Anthony: and here, instead of holding on for Torpoint and the ferry, Mr. Rogers struck aside into a lane on our right, so steep and narrow that he alighted and led the mare down, holding one of the lamps to guide her as she picked her steps.
The lane ended beside a sheet of water, pitch-black under the shadow of a wooded sh.o.r.e, and glimmering beyond it with the reflections of a few stars. Mr. Rogers gave a whistle; and a soft whistle answered him. I heard a boat"s nose grate on the shingle and take ground.
"All right, Sergeant?"
"Right, sir. Got the boy?"
"Climb down, Harry," whispered Mr. Rogers. "Shake hands and good luck to you!"
I was given a hand over the bows by a man whose face I could not see.
The boat was full of men, and one dark figure handed me to another till I reached the stern-sheets.
"Give way, lads!" called a voice beside me, as the bow-man pushed us off. We were travelling fast when at a bend of the creek a line of lights shot into view--innumerable small sparks cl.u.s.tered low on the water ahead and shining steadily across it. I knew them at once.
They were the lights of Plymouth Dock.
"Where are you taking me?" I cried.
"That"s no question for a soldier," said a voice which I recognised as the sergeant"s. And one or two of the crew laughed.
CHAPTER XXI.
I GO CAMPAIGNING WITH LORD WELLINGTON.
The vessel to which they rowed me was the _Bute_ transport, bound for Portugal with one hundred and fifty officers and men of the 52nd Regiment, one hundred and twenty of the third battalion 95th Rifles, and a young cornet and three farriers of the 7th Light Dragoons in charge of fifty remounts for that regiment.
We weighed anchor at daybreak (the date, I may mention, was July 28th), and cleared the Sound. At ten o"clock or thereabouts the wind fell, and for two days and nights we drifted aimlessly about the Channel at the will of the tides, while the sergeant--a veteran named Henderson, who had started twenty-five years before by blowing a bugle in the 52nd, and therefore served me as index and example of what by patience I might attain to--filled the most of my time between sleep and meals with lessons upon that instrument. From a hencoop abaft the mainmast (the _Bute_ was a brig, by the way) I blew back inarticulate farewells to the sh.o.r.es receding from us imperceptibly, if at all; and so ill.u.s.trated a profound remark of the war"s great historian, that the English are a bellicose rather than a martial race, and by consequence sometimes find themselves committed to military enterprises without having counted the cost or made complete preparation.
On the third day the wind freshened and blew dead foul, decimating the horses with sea-sickness, prostrating three-fourths of the men, and shaking the two regiments down into a sociability which outlasted their sufferings. To be sure my comrades of the 52nd (as, with a fearful joy, I named them to myself in secret), being veterans for the most part, recovered or recovering from wounds taken in the land to which they were returning with common memories of Sir John Moore, of Benevente, Calcabellos and Corunna, treated the riflemen with that affable condescension which was all that could be claimed by third battalion youngsters with their soldiering before them. But the 52nd knew the 95th of old. And, veterans and youths, were they not bound to be enrolled together in that n.o.ble Light Division, the glory of which was already lifting above the horizon, soon to blaze across heaven?
Sergeant Henderson did not suffer from seasickness. For no reward-- unless it be the fierce delight of tackling a difficulty for its own sake--he had sworn to make a bugler of me, given moderately bad weather: and when the evening of September 2nd brought us off the coast of Portugal, he allowed me to shake hands over his success.
Early next morning we began to disembark at a place called Figueira, by the mouth of the Mondego river. I stepped ash.o.r.e with a swelling heart.
But I carried also a portentously swollen under-lip, with a crack in it which showed signs of festering. Now there was a base hospital at Figueira, to the surgeon in charge of which fell the duty of inspecting the men as they landed and detaining those who were sick or physically unfit. I need not say that his eye was arrested at once by my unfortunate lip. He examined it.
"Blood-poisoning," he announced. "Nasty, if not attended to.
Detained for a week."
He saw my eyes fill with tears at this blow, the more cruel because quite unexpected; and added not unkindly:
"Eh? What? In a hurry? Never mind, my lad--you"ll go up with the next draft I dare say. Jericho won"t fall between this and then."
I was young, and never doubted that even so slight a promise must be remembered.
Still, that my merit might leave him no excuse for forgetting, I determined that it should not escape attention: and finding myself confined to hospital with a trifling hurt which in no way interfered with my activity, and being at once pounced upon by an over-worked and red-eyed orderly and pressed into service as emergency-man, nurse, and general bottle-washer for three over-crowded tents, I flung into my new duties a zeal which ended by undoing me. Drummers might be wanted at the front, but meanwhile the hospital-camp was undoubtedly short-handed. And my hopes faded as, with the approach of Christmas, wagon after wagon laden with sick soldiers crawled back to us from the low-lying country over which Lord Wellington had spread his forces between the Agueda and the upper Mondego--men shuddering with ague or bent double with rheumatism, and all bringing down the same tales of short food, sodden quarters, and arrears of pay. For three days, they told me, the army had gone without bread, and the commissariat crawled over unthreatened roads at the pace of five to nine miles a day. They cursed the war, the Government at home, above all the Portuguese and everything in Portugal; and yet their hardships seemed heaven to me in comparison with the hospital in which, though its duties were frequently disgusting, I had plenty to eat and nothing to complain of but over-work.
It was not until Christmas that I won my release, and by a singular accident.
It happened that after nightfall on the 23rd of December an ambulance train arrived of six wagons, all full of sick demanding instant attention; and, close upon these, four other wagons laden with cavalrymen, wounded more or less severely in a foraging excursion beyond the Agueda, which had brought them into conflict with a casual party of Marmont"s dragoons. The weather was bitterly cold; the men, apart from this, were unfit for so long a journey and should have been attended to promptly at their own headquarters. To make matters worse, one of the wagons had been overturned six miles back on the frozen road, and the a.s.sistant-surgeon who, owing to the seriousness of the business, had been sent down in attendance, lost his balance completely. Three of the poor fellows had succ.u.mbed as they lay, of cold, wounds and exhaustion, and a dozen others were in desperate case.
Our surgeons went to work at once, and until midnight I attended on them, preparing the lint, washing the blood-stained instruments, changing the water in the pails, and performing other necessary but more gruesome tasks which I need not particularise. At midnight the young cavalry surgeon, who had been freely dosed with brandy, professed himself ready to take over the minor casualties. The two hospital surgeons, by this time worn out, accepted the offer and withdrew. No one thought of me.
I understand that about an hour later as I sat waiting for orders on the edge of an unoccupied bed (from which a dead man had been carried out a little before midnight) I must have dropped across it in a sleep of utter exhaustion. It appears too that the young doctor, finding me there a short while after, carried me out and laid me on the ground with my head against the hut. He never admitted this: for I had been attending upon him, off and on, since his arrival, and that he failed to recognise me might have been awkwardly accounted for. But I cannot believe (as certainly I do not remember) that of my own motion I crawled outside the hut and stretched myself on the frozen ground, or that, exhausted as I was, I could have walked ten yards in my sleep.
At all events, the chill of the bitter dawn awoke me there; and with a yawn I stretched out both arms. My right hand encountered--what?-- the body of a man stretched beside me! Still dazed and numb, I rolled over to my elbow, raised myself a little and peered into his face.
It was pinched and cold. Its eyes stared straight up at the dawn.
From it my gaze travelled slowly over the faces of three other men laid out accurately alongside of him, feet to feet, head to head.
I sank back, not yet comprehending, gazed up at the grey sky for a while, then slowly raised myself on my left elbow.
On that side lay a score of sleepers, all flat on their backs, and all equally still. Then I understood and leapt up with a scream.
It was a line of corpses, and I had been laid out beside them for burial at dawn.
A sleepy orderly--a friend of mine--poked his head out of the doorway of the next hut. I pointed to the spot where I had been lying.
"They must ha" done it in the dark," he said, slowly regarding the bodies.
I suppose that my story, spreading about the camp, at length penetrated to headquarters: for on Christmas Day, a transport arriving and landing some light guns and a detachment of artillery, I was sent forward with them towards Villa del Ciervo on the left bank of the Agueda, where, by all accounts, the 52nd were posted.