"Pretty good stuff, if that's a fair sample," I returned, glancing over at the bench whereI had left the old sergeant seated. "Hello! he's gone."
"Yes, there he is, walking back to quarters. But you'll see him again," said the colonel, and as we trudged along back towards the hotel he explained for my approval the details of a scheme which he had evolved.
Well, the upshot of the whole matter was that when we went north, ten days later, Sam—for "Sam" is his official title now—went with us. It took some trouble to get him started, for he had settled himself at Hampton for a winter of ease and genteel laziness. But the colonel has a very persuasive way about him, and finally Sam fell a victim to it. So now he is installed as presiding genius at "The Battery," and under his watchful eye that comfortable roost of ours becomes more comfortable day by day; for who can build the cheeriest fire, who can most brightly polish our pewter mugs, who can while away a dull half hour with yarns of the by-gone days in camp and field—who, but Sam?
One drill-night, not long after he had come among us, he turned up at the armory andfor nearly an hour stood watching the companies as they went through with their night's work. I noticed him as he stood in one corner of the long hall, and thought that he seemed greatly interested; but I must admit that I was surprised when, a little later, he walked into the colonel's room and announced that he wished to enlist. Now, the law allows us one orderly at headquarters, and as that place then happened to be unfilled we gave it to him.
The colonel himself mustered him in, and I stood by during the ceremony. Sam stood erect and motionless, and with uplifted hand swore "to bear true faith and allegiance to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts," and after he had slowly repeated the closing words of the military oath—"I do also solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States.So help me God"—he let fall his hand, and said, "It's close onto thirty years, Cunnel, sence I said them words, an' th' last time I said 'em they meant a good deal t' me. But they aint lost none o' their meanin'—an' if this reg'ment ever has t' go outI'll go with it, though I'd a darn sight ruther be at th' trail of a gunthan go t' foolin' with a muskit at my time o' life."
Later in the evening I happened to see Sam's muster rolls lying upon the colonel's desk, and out of curiosity glanced through them. "Name: Farwell, Samuel," I read, "Rank: Private (Hdq'rs Orderly).Age: 65 years. Occupation: Gentleman.Remarks: Private, Corporal, Sergeant; Burdett's (N. H.) Light Battery, U.S. Vols., 1861-65; Medal of Honor for distinguished bravery." With my finger upon the column in which Sam's occupation was recorded as that of "Gentleman," I looked inquiringly at the colonel, who answered my unspoken question with—"That's rightenough, Jack. In the first place, he's a soldier, and you ought to know that the profession of the soldier is the profession of the gentleman. In the second place, he wasn't doing anything for a living when we found him—and that surely is gentlemanly. And lastly, he is a gentleman, every inch of him, and I'll thank you not to question it."
OUR HORSE "ACME"
The paymaster piled up a neat little heap of documentary odds and ends, shoved it to one side, and banged down upon it a heavy paper-weight. Then he slammed together the thick, leathern covers of the regimental roll-book, and by sheer force of muscle hoisted that precious and ponderous volume up to its appointed resting-place. And finally, after he had sent crashing down the lid of his desk, he thrust his hands into his pockets, drew a long breath, and looked over towards the adjoining desk, where the colonel sat writing.
For a minute or so, after this racket had subsided, the scratching of the colonel's pen steadily continued, but finally there came a long, rasping sound of steel upon paper, denoting the flourish at the end of a signature, and the colonel reached for the blotter,saying, as he applied it to the writing before him, "So you've concluded to call it a day's work, eh? Well, why couldn't yousayso, instead of making row enough to raise the dead and deafen the living? I take it that your infernal old rolls are straightened out at last."
"Rolls are up to date; everything's up to date, and I'm square with the game again," replied the paymaster, locking his desk and pocketing the key. "About ready to stroll along, Colonel? Brown has stuck his head in through the doorway a couple of times, with an expression on his face which forces me to think that he considers our room worth more than our company."
"I'm ready to call quits," said the colonel, folding his letter and slipping it into an envelope. "Hello, Brown!" to the armorer, who had made a third suggestive appearance at the door. "Keeping you up? Too bad! Well, you may put out these lights, and in a minute more we'll be out of my room, too. Come along, Pay, it's time decent people were at home."
"But we're not 'decent people,'" objected the paymaster, as he followed thecolonel to his private room beyond; "we're officers of the militia, and, in the estimation of many worthy citizens, that ranks us just one pegbelowdecency. You know Vandercrumb—old Judge Vandercrumb? Well, t'other day he was at my house and happened to see my commission hanging in the library. 'What!' says he, in a politely disgusted sort of way, 'youin the militia? Well, I must say, Langforth, I'm surprised to find you guilty of that!'" and the paymaster laughed, as he remembered the inflection with which the words had been spoken. The colonel laughed, too, for Langforth had imitated to perfection the tones of shocked respectability, and the anecdote amused him the more because it bore so close a resemblance to many experiences of his own.
"It always has been so," he said, as he drew on his light overcoat, "and always will be, I dare say. People see only one side—the 'fuss and feather' aspect—of volunteering, and the traditions of the old 'milishy' days are slow in dying out. Well, I suppose we can stand it all, but at times it galls a bit."
"Yes, itisrather rough, to work hard and faithfully, year in and year out, and then be rewarded by hearing some fellow at one's club wondering 'how the devil anybody can take any interest in such boy's play,'" said the paymaster, whose honest love for the service made him peculiarly sensitive to any covert sneers directed at it. "But, as you say, we can stand it; and, besides," he went on, "we have our fun in our quiet way, and I'm weak enough to pity the outsiders, for they miss more downright sport than I would be willing to forego."
"Yes, we certainly have our fun," said Colonel Elliott, as he walked with the paymaster down the granite steps of the armory and out into the deserted street, "but it's been 'all work' to-night, eh, Langforth? Phew! I've written, since eight o'clock, more letters than there are in the whole condemned alphabet."
"I've done my share, too," remarked his companion, taking advantage of the glare of a chance electric light to consult his watch. "Quarter past eleven; well, it might be worse."
"Say, Langforth," observed the colonel,abruptly halting as they came to a corner, "if we switch off here and step out a trifle faster we can flank The Battery, get a pewter and a sandwich, and do it all before midnight. What do you say—do or don't?"
"Heads, we go; tails, we also go—home," replied Langforth, yawning, and extracting from his change pocket a nickel. "Tails—and be hanged to it!" he ejaculated, as he held the coin up to the light. "Well, that settles it; we'll go up to The Battery. It takes more than a miserable five-cent bit to send me hungry and thirsty to bed."
"Come ahead, then," said the colonel, laughing at the ease with which his companion set aside the verdict of the coin. "That's not such a bad system of yours: snapping to see what you'll do, and then doing what you please. Always work it that way?"
"No, not always," returned the paymaster, lengthening his stride in order to keep up with the pace set by the colonel, "only sometimes; and this is one of the times. Suppose we shall find anybody up there?"
"The genial Pollard is sure to be there. He's a fixture. Can't see why he pays duesat his club, can you? Since we started this institution he's never spent an evening anywhere else. Well, here we are—all except the stairs," said the colonel, turning in at the court at whose far end, away up in the darkness, the lights of The Battery invitingly twinkled. "Hello!" he exclaimed, a moment later, as he opened the door at the head of the last flight of stairs, "here's Pollard, sure enough—and 'Bones,' and a couple more men," and with this he walked over towards the table around which the earlier comers were seated.
"Colonel Elliott, let me present Lieutenant Hotchkiss and Ensign Hatch, both of the Naval Battalion," said the surgeon, rising and designating these officers with a graceful wave of his cigar. "Gentlemen, this is Langforth, our 'Pay.' Ah, you've met him?" The two late comers drew up chairs, and made known to Sam their requirements; and then the colonel, turning towards the surgeon, said, "Bones, what is it? You look troubled."
"Well, to tell the truth," replied the surgeon, ruefully glancing at his questioner, "Iwasgoing to tell these fellows how I wonthe cavalry cup, but now I suppose I shall have to defer it to another time."
"Oh, go ahead with your yarn—spring it," said the colonel. "'Pay' and I don't mind, and Pollard the genial never will interrupt. Besides, with three of us here, you'll not be apt to deviate very widely from the truth, and truth is desirable in all reports of a military Nature. Go ahead!" and the colonel, with a wink at Langforth, took the mug which Sam had brought him.
"Well, you see, it was like this," began the surgeon, clasping his hands behind his head, and comfortably leaning back in his chair. "In camp, last summer, we had the athletic fever pretty badly, and the way all hands went in for games of various sorts was a caution."
"'Games of various sorts,'" echoed Pollard, winking at the paymaster, and making motions as if dealing a pack of invisible cards. "That's not bad, Bones."
"Out-doorgames of various sorts," amended the surgeon. "Cork up, will you, and don't let these sailors carry away wrong impressions of us."
"All right, old man," replied Pollard,catching Sam's eye, and holding up one finger to denote drought; "only don't be so ambiguous in your remarks. But really, we did have lots of athletic enthusiasm, last camp, and it was very tiring to see the boys all sweating after some record or other—when they were off duty—instead of lying 'round in their tents and keeping cool."
"The cavalry fellows," resumed Bones, "didn't seem able to muster much talent in the way of track athletes, and for a time they weren't in it at all. But one night, between tattoo and taps, little Whateley—second lieutenant, you know, of 'H' troop—came riding down the lines, stopping at all the regimental headquarters, and finally he brought up at our marquee.
"A few of us were sitting there, smoking a good-night pipe before turning in, and we made him dismount before telling us his errand. Well, I ordered up a little prescription for him, to counteract the effects of the night air, and when he'd got back his breath—"
"Gad!" put in one of the visitors, "isthatthe way your doses work, doctor?"
"Did I say it was the prescription?" inquiredthe doctor, unclasping his hands, and leaning forward to take a pipe from the table. "He might have been out of breath from riding so far. Anyway, he got his breath back, as I've stated, and used it to remark that the cavalry took a deep interest in military sports, and had chipped in to buy a silver tankard to be ridden for by the mounted officers in the brigade. And he further said—with a grin, too, confound his youthful impudence!—that he knew we could enter some mighty fine material, for the reputation for horsemanship of our field and staff was more than local.
"Now, that last insinuation was too much, and we told him that he needn't worry—we'd be represented. So off he rode, declining to take another dose of my good medicine, though I told him that the prescription read, 'Repeat as required,' which meant once in five minutes. Well, after he'd gone, we began to talk it all over, and the discussion as to who best could afford to run the risk of breaking his neck for the glory of the regiment and the good of the service was an animated one, you'd do well to believe."
"Yes—and I remember the extrememodesty with which everybody suggested some other man for that distinction," remarked the colonel in a reminiscent way, "and how you all fell over each other in your anxiety to let somebody else do the riding and gather in the glory."
"Well, I'd been detailed as Field Officer of the Day for the date the race was scheduled," Major Pollard hastened to explain; while Langforth promptly came in with the remark, "And I hardly had got into shape from my winter's attack of grippe."
"There,there!" exclaimed the colonel, with a wave of his hand, "we don't care to have all that over again. For my own part, I couldn't ride because—well, because it hardly would do for a regimental commander to so far forget himself as to go in for anything of that sort. See?"
"In other words, six of us didn't dare to go in, and the remaining half-dozen were afraid to," said the surgeon, drawing up one foot to rest it easily across his knee. "Well, it all ended in my being chosen by acclamation to represent the glorious Third, and, though I wasn't exactly 'impatient to mount and ride,' yet I made the best of it, and tried to pretend that I was."
"It seems to have been acknowledged that you were the best rider in your regiment," suggested one of the visitors.
"Oh, I hardly should care to claim so much as that," replied Bones, with a glance at his brother officers, "but I've been nine years in the service without falling off my horse—and that's a pretty fair record for a staff officer of volunteers. Well, as I've said, I was elected without a dissenting voice—except my own—and the ill-concealed joy of Wilder, our assistant surgeon, was something worth seeing. He's looking for promotion, you know, and a casual broken neck on my part would have given it to him."
"Pardon the interruption," interposed the colonel, blandly, "but there will be a vacancy for Wilder, and very soon, too, if you cast any more reflections upon the horsemanship of my military family."
"Gracious! did I?" asked Bones, hastily. "Impossible! Why, we all ride, and ride well; all except the adjutant.He can't!"
"Pardon me again, doctor," said the colonel, sighing wearily, "but the adjutant can ride, too. I'veseenhim."
"If you say so, I suppose I'm not to dispute it," rejoined the surgeon, meekly. "But, if he's such a good rider, don't you think it was just a little rough on him to take him up four flights of stairs, as you did only last week, and introduce him to the wooden vaulting-horse in the regimental gymnasium?" The colonel laughed at this recital of the latest headquarters' joke, and Bones continued, "Well, even if the adjutantisrather amateurish in his riding, he at least is entitled to some of the credit for winning the cup, for he furnished my mount.
"You see, Charley had a horse, last camp, that suited him 'way down to the ground. His walking gait was the poetry of motion; in fact, it was hard to get him to move at any faster pace. But somehow, by slapping him with the reins and clucking to him, like a woman calling hens, Charley sometimes managed to get him into a lope that was just about as easy as a rocking-chair, and didn't seem to cover ground much more rapidly than a rocking-chair could. We used to suggest that spurring would be a more military method of getting the beast under way, but Charley always replied that spurs wereunnecessarily cruel things, and that he hadn't the heart to do anything to interrupt theentente cordialeexisting between him and his charger."
"Wasn't it a ratty-looking beast, though!" put in Langforth, setting down his mug and laughing aloud. "We christened him 'Acme,' he was such a perfect skate."
"'Handsome is as handsome does,'" quoted Bones, sententiously. "His performances were remarkable, but hewasn'tmuch on beauty, especially at that point of his anatomy where about a square foot of hide and hair was lacking. However, we got around that blemish by borrowing some axle grease from one of the battery drivers and painting the bare spot so thoroughly that the rest of his hide looked dingy by contrast.
"Now, 'Acme' had one little peculiarity that nobody knew anything about; nobody, that is, except Charley and me. You couldn't touch him with a spur on either flank without making him wheel half 'round to the opposite side and bolt for all that was in him. It was a pleasant little trick and one that would throw a man every time unless he knew what was coming. I know that to be a factbecause, well, because he threwmein that way, the very first day we were in camp."
"Thought you'd been nine years in the service without ever being thrown," remarked Hotchkiss, with the air of one scoring a good point.
"Oh! no, I never said that," explained the imperturbable doctor, turning this thrust harmlessly aside. "If you recall my words you will remember that I said I'd neverfallenoff; to be thrown off is a very different matter."
"Ah! I see. Pardon my carelessness," said the discomfited naval visitor. "We fellows that go down upon the sea in ships aren't very well up, I fear, in these nice distinctions of the land service."
"Naturally not," said the surgeon, "and of course it's excusable; but you readily will notice the distinction, which really is as great as that between being in mid-ocean and being 'half-seas over' would be, in your own case.
"Now, I recalled that little experience of mine with the adjutant's horse, and it occurred to me, when I was casting about for a mount, that if I only could manage to keepmy seat while he was executing his diabolical half-face, I should have a dead cinch on the cup; for when hedidrun, after one of those performances, he ran like the very devil."
"He did, indeed," said the colonel, smiling as if at some remembrance.
"It was on Wednesday night that little Whateley dropped in on us," Bones continued, "and the race was on the card for Friday noon. That was on 'Governor's Day,' you know, and the camp was sure to be crowded with visitors. Pleasant outlook for me, wasn't it?
"Well, on Thursday morning I borrowed 'Acme', and rode a couple of miles out of camp to a big hay-field I knew of, because I wished to make sure, by a strictly private trial, that my little scheme was in reliable working order. It was. Everything went to a charm. I got a firm grip on the pommel and gave 'Acme' the spur; whereupon he spun half 'round, and was off like a wild engine on a drop grade. Yes, he was off, but, better still, I wason, and when finally I got him into his rocking-chair lope, I started back for camp, pretty well satisfied with myexperiment; and all the way along the road I couldn't help grinning at the thought of the sensation that was brewing for the next day."
"Well, itwasa sensation, and that can't be disputed," commented Pollard, as the surgeon paused for a moment. "We all backed you and 'Acme'; not because we had any particular expectations, but just out of loyalty to the old regiment, and because the odds were so inviting. I took ten out of Mixter, myself."
"Friday morning was cloudy," said the doctor, after he had brought his pipe to a satisfactory glow, "and I half hoped that it would rain before noon, for I was getting the least shade nervous. Everybody around our headquarters was so very kind that it made me fidgety as a school-girl. At breakfast, in mess, the colonel thoughtfully opened an elaborate discussion about the proper form of ceremonies at military burials. The adjutant, on his way to guard mounting, stopped long enough at my tent to say that 'Acme' just had killed one of the hostlers, and that the band had gone out of camp soon after breakfast for the purpose of practising 'The Lost Chord.' Andyou, Langforth—confoundyou! I haven't forgotten how you forged my name to an order to have the brigade ambulance report to me at noon, the very hour of the race.
"But somehow the morning went by, and at noon the sky was beautifully clear, though the air was most horribly lifeless and hot. I dressed up in full fig, helmet, sword, and all, according to the conditions, mounted 'Acme,' and rode out upon the parade.
"Pretty nearly the whole brigade had turned out to see the fun, and around the start the crowd was packed closely, while groups of men were scattered here and there along the three furlongs of turf over which the course had been laid out. I had supposed that there would be, at the very least, half-a-dozen entries; but when I had succeeded in manœuvering 'Acme' through the crowd and up to the line, I found awaiting me just one solitary horseman. It was Porter, captain of "H" troop, and his mount was the same beautiful thoroughbred that he rides from one year's end to the other.
"Wasn't I sick! I never had a patient who felt worse than I did then. But there was no such thing as backing out at thatstage of the game, and so I looked as confident as possible, and happier, I hope, than I felt. But when Porter saluted me, with an inquiring sort of glance at my tired-looking mount, and a grin at my audacity in showing up on such a beast, why, I swore under my breath that I'd send the spur into poor old 'Acme' deeply enough to scratch his digestive apparatus."
"It was a funny contrast," laughed Langforth, with his mug in mid-transit from the table to his lips. "Of course, Bones, you're a better looking man, and all that, than Porter; but that horse of his is a perfect picture for style, and when Charley's old skate ambled up beside him we couldn'thelpgrinning, any of us. Do you remember, Pollard, how that grease spot on 'Acme's' flank showed up?"
"Do I?" roared the major. "Don'tI! Why, Bowen, of the brigade-staff, was standing next me, and when he caught sight of that daub of axle-grease he punched me in the ribs and said, 'So you fellows have black-leaded your craft, eh? Now, I call that blasted unsportsmanlike! The other man hasn't worked any funny games like that.'"
"That was all right!" said the surgeon, grimly, "I hadmyfun later—after the race was run.
"We lined up for the start, and it'll be a long while before I forget the row it raised when I persisted in planting 'Acme' at right angles to the course. Porter got mad, and announced that he'd come out to race, and not to take part in a circus. Most of the brigade set me down for being either sunstruck or drunk, but I wouldn't budge, and neither would 'Acme.' Finally Porter growled out, 'Let's have this nonsense over with! It isn't my fault that we can't have a race. Start us, will you?' 'All ready, major?' the starter asked me. 'Confound it all—yes!' said I, looking to see that all was clear around me, and then getting a death-grip on the pommel.
"Down went the flag, and off went Porter at an easy gallop. Up came my spurred heel, and off went 'Acme,' too, after a whirl-around that took away the breath of everybody who saw the performance, and knocked end-ways a couple of gunners who had edged in too close to the course. Shades of night! How that old four-legger flew! I'd rammedmy spur home for business, and the way he responded beat even my wildest expectations.
"It was the worst run-away ever seen in camp, and, before I knew it, we'd passed Porter, passed the finish, passed the last tent in the long brigade line, and passed the ditch at the end of the field; at least, 'Acme' passed the ditch—methey picked out of it."
"It certainly was a remarkable burst of speed," assented the colonel, laughing until the tears stood in his eyes. "When we found that Bones wasn't killed outright, we went for the cavalry fellows in every way, shape, and manner that our combined talents could suggest, and if we failed to make life a burden to them it wasn't for lack of trying. Come over here," he continued, rising from his chair, and leading the way to the opposite side of the room, where, in a double frame, there hung upon the wall two large photographs. "These two pictures—which, by the way, we consider priceless—tell the whole story. See that one? Well, that's the enlargement of a snap-shot plate caught by one of our color-sergeants when Bones was in full career. Observe the expression of theface; and, above all, notice that grip on the pommel. Isn't it all grand? Where should Sheridan's ride and Paul Revere's little trip be classed besidethat?"
"The other picture in the frame," said the doctor, with a pardonable air of pride, "is a photo of the cup itself, and we all think a heap of it. The fellows in the troop, you see, had been going the rounds of the camp, and guying the life out of the Third—and me—for presuming to enter against their crack horse, so the final result was just plain joy for all hands at our headquarters.
"I was excused from parade that afternoon," he continued, knocking the dead ashes from his pipe, "because I was a trifle tired, and more than a trifle sore—in spots. Besides, it took one able-bodied darkey the best part of that afternoon to clean the mud off my uniform, knock my helmet out into shape, and straighten out the kinks in my scabbard.
"As for 'Acme': well,henever turned a hair, and after a careless sort of trot around the camp he came back to our stables, looking just as unconcerned and sleepy as ever. But he lived high for the rest of that tour ofduty, and nobody seemed to care about referring to him as a 'skate.'"
"'Sporting blood will tell,'" was Hatch's comment as the doctor led the way to the chair where the overcoats lay piled. "I should think, though, that the troopers would have challenged you to another go."
"Theyhavechallenged us—and more than once," said the colonel, as Sam held his coat for him, "but our invariable reply is that our surgeon is too precious a bit of bric-à-brac to risk in any more enterprises of that sort, and—as none of the rest of us care to diminish Bones' glory—we have averaged up matters by keeping the cup and conceding them the championship," and he moved towards the door, stopping, however, with, "I wonder which owl this is?" as he caught the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside.
"Good evening, Colonel," sung out the new arrival, the adjutant, as he threw wide the door and stepped blinking into the room. "Hello, the rest of you! Can't make you all out, it's so bright here—after the stairs. What, all going?"
"Yes, it's a good hour beyond taps," replied the colonel.
"All right, sir; I'll go with you, if you'll wait for me to empty justone," said the adjutant, drawing off his right glove. "It would be too much to ask me to turn 'round and go down again without stopping for a second wind. One up, Sam—right around; making six."
"What's new, Charley?" asked the doctor, as Sam made off towards the base of supplies.
"Can't seem to think of anything," replied the adjutant, seating himself easily upon the nearest table, upon which he began vigorously to drum with his knuckles. "Hold on, though! Now I come to think of it, I saw 'Acme' to-day. Yes, sir! And he was drawing ahearse, too.Yes, sir! I followed the funeral a block, to make sure. Well, here's to him!" and the late master of "Acme" emptied his pewter with one long, breathless pull, while the doctor slowly drainedhismug, saying with unsmiling solemnity, "To 'Acme.'"
FROM BEYOND THE PYRAMIDS
It was the evening after the battle at Farlow's Farm, and most of us—what's that? You never heard of any such engagement? Now, isn't that odd! Why, it was fought only last year, and for one whole day the papers were full of it. Well, though I had no idea of putting a preface to the story I started to tell, I suppose I must stop long enough to explain why there was a fight, and how it happened that so many of us—all of us, in fact—got back alive from it.
Once a year, you must know, there comes down from the State House, and through "proper channels," a mandate directing each volunteer regiment in the Commonwealth to arm and equip itself, ration and supply itself, and bundle itself out into the country for what officially is known as the Fall Drill.Weare rather apt to refer to an affair of thissort as "going out with the regiment for the Autumn Manœuvres," because, you see, this sounds more dignified, and lacks the baldness of the official phraseology.
Now, an order for a Fall Drill meanswar; because it entails a long day of marching, a prodigal expenditure of blank cartridges, and, at headquarters, bother and worry beyond reckoning.
Yes, when one of these orders comes down to us we awake to an activity which calls for the largest size of A in the spelling of it. The quartermaster rises to a height of importance hard to estimate, while his sergeant—upon whom devolves the bulk of the work—sinks into a settled gloom of corresponding depth. The surgeons find themselves pestered with requests to lay in a better brand of liniment than the stuff they took out with them the year before, which, it unanimously is asserted, was too blistering in its effect. The adjutant grimly sits at his desk and wrestles with the "General Order" until he reaches a state half-way between utter misery and hopeless atheism. Why? Because he knows to a dead certainty that a copy of it will find its way into every Sundaypaper in town, and therefore tries with might and main—to say nothing of the aid of the old order-files for ten years back—to make of it a lucid and grammatical fragment of English prose,—an attempt in which he most signally fails. And the colonel: well,hehas the task of tasks, for it becomes his duty and privilege to evolve the plan of campaign; and the campaign, mind you, must be one that can be brought to a successful issue in a single day. Think of it! Do you suppose Sherman, or even Grant himself, could have met without concern such a demand upon strategic resources?
Days in advance of active operations, the field officers fill up their cigar-cases and run out into the country to look over the ground; constructing, upon their return, amazing maps, wherein—on generously large sheets of brown wrapping-paper—a tangle of blue lines and red ones serves to make plain the positions for the attack and the defence. Remarkable productions, those maps!—with long straight marks to indicate the roads, and zigzag lines to denote fences, and aggregations of pretzel-like symbols to show where the woods lie; and many a mystic sign besides tostand for as many more features in the landscape. Oh, we couldn't do without the maps, for a campaign that has to be settled between one sunrise and the next sunset must be managed very understandingly; and yet all this doesn't seem to keep the enlisted man from damning up hill and down both the maps and their makers when he finds himself one of a skirmish-line stationed in what ought to be a dry ditch, but isn't.
Well, last fall we got our annual order, went through with the usual week's worry at headquarters, and then railroaded the regiment out to Farlow's Farm for its day of field work. The fight was a stubborn one, and the amount of powder burned was far in excess of anything before known, for we had raised a regimental fund and had purchased with it some odd thousands of cartridges in addition to the quantity issued by the State.
The tide of battle swept back and forth until well into the afternoon, but finally the smoke-cloud lifted—because there were no more cartridges to be fired away—and in the lull a flag of truce was sent by the lieutenant-colonel, who humbly begged permission to bury his dead, and also announced hisreadiness to accept any decent sort of terms, since the umpires had declared his four companies to have been annihilated. Now, the lieutenant-colonel and his men, you understand, represented the enemy, and since we had been devoting the day to his destruction we sent up a mighty cheer when his submission was made known, voted the whole affair an admirable illustration of grand strategy, and prepared to leave the field to solitude and the sorrowful contemplation of farmer Farlow, its owner.
We formed line, then broke by fours to the right, and started off along the tree-shaded country road. Up at the head of the long column the drums rolled and rattled, while the bugles and fifes joined merrily together in the crazy, rollicking "Wild Irishman" quickstep—an air which never fails to send the Third into its famous, swinging gait. By turning in my saddle, as I rode in my place with the staff, I could see the regiment behind me as it came solidly tramping along—company after company of blue-clad men; rank on rank of snowy helmets; file upon file of sloping rifle-barrels; and midway of all, the colors, rustling their silken folds intime with the cadenced tread of the men who bore them. Far in the rear glowed a ruddy October sunset, making a fit background for the whole living, moving picture. It was a stirring sight and a beautiful one, and I glanced back again and again to see it, for the picturesque side of the service has a peculiar charm for me.
"Jove! but that's pretty!" said Van Sickles, who rode next me on the staff, reining his horse over a bit closer to mine, and nodding back towards the following column. "People sometimes ask me what earthly attraction I can find in volunteer soldiering. Well, a sight likethatcertainly has strong attractions for me," and he gave another long look towards the rear.
"Yes, this is one of the things outsiders miss," said I, bringing to bear upon the curb a light pressure, as I noticed that my horse gradually was outstepping the others, "and taking it all together, Van, the outsiders miss a great deal."
"That's so, Jack," assented Van Sickles, "but it's hard to make them see it. Time and again I've tried to explain why I went into the service, and why I stay in it; but I'vegiven up that sort of thing now, because my friends only laugh and say, 'Well, youhavegot the fever, Van, but you can't give it to us.'" Here his horse stumbled slightly, but he easily lifted him, and then asked, "Say, old man, who's this Captain Penryhn?" and he waved his hand towards an officer in foreign uniform who was riding next our surgeon.
"Why, you met him," said I, "just before you were sent over to join 'the enemy.'"
"That's true enough; but I barely caught his name, and beyond the fact that he's in British uniform, and that Penryhn is his name and 'captain' his title, I'm still uninformed."
"Well, I can't help you out to any great extent," I rejoined, just as the rattle of the drums gave place to a crash of brazen melody from the band, "for all I know is that he's one of Stearns' acquisitions, is over here on leave, holds his commission in 'Her Majesty's Sixty-fifth,' and seems to be a decent, soldierly sort of fellow. You must remember that I've been more or less on the jump to-day, and haven't had time to cultivate acquaintances."
"We'll get a chance for cultivation later, no doubt," observed Van Sickles as we came in sight of the long train of cars, side-tracked and waiting to take us aboard and carry us back to the city. "He probably will dine with us to-night, and then we can"—
"Battalion—halt!" rang out the colonel's voice, and we reined up, as the seven hundred rifles behind us were brought down, with a rattle and crash, to the carry. "Order—arms!In place—rest!" followed; and we dismounted, and gave over our horses to the men waiting to lead them to their car at the head of the train.
An hours ride brought us back to the city, a short march through the lamp-lighted streets found us at the great armory, towering up in the dusky twilight, and then, one by one, the companies were dismissed, and seven hundred veterans were set free to resume the pursuits of peace—which I trust they at once did. We of headquarters dined together at the hotel which lies just around the corner, and afterwards, by twos and threes, sauntered up to The Battery, to smoke our after-dinner cigars and fight over again the day's battle.
When Van and I entered the cosey old room the fun had been started. "That's all right about your flank attack," the lieutenant-colonel was saying, in answer to the senior major's assertion that a brilliant move by his detachment had won the day for the attacking side; "oh, yes—that'sall right; but if it had been the 'real thing,' I'd have cut you up into sausage-meat with the sharpshooters I'd tucked into that clump of pines."
"Well, why didn't you—as it was?" inquired the major, calmly cutting the end from his cigar.
"Because the boys had run short of ammunition," replied the lieutenant-colonel.
"Ah! theyhad, had they?" remarked the major sarcastically; "and if it had been the real old stuff I'd have been wiped out, would I? Humph! A bush full of sharpshooterswithout ammunitiondoesn't seem to strike me as being much of an obstacle. It's no use, Billy—there's where I caught you napping; empty boxes are empty boxes, whether they've been emptied of blank or ball."
"I was outnumbered, anyway," said the lieutenant-colonel, on the defensive for the second time that day. "How in thundercould I take four companies, and play 'em off against eight?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," pleasantly replied the major. "You thought you could, though, when we planned this thing out. Miscalculated just a hair, eh?"
"Hello, here's Stearns," put in Van, with a view to diverting the conversation into safer courses before the traditional tranquillity of The Battery should become ruffled. "How are you, Tom? Good evening, Captain Penryhn."
Stearns and his companion came up to the fireplace, in which a cheerful blaze had been kindled to take the chill from the air of the cool October evening, and for a moment the discussion was dropped; but it wasn't long before some chance word renewed the argument, and so, on Van's suggestion, we made a change of base to one of the small tables in the corner of the room, and left the strategists to settle their differences without our aid.
Now, it happened that Bones had been called away immediately after dinner, and so Van appropriated the absent surgeon's pet story, and entertained our visitor by telling how the doctor and "Acme" had broughtthe Cavalry Cup to our headquarters. It happened also that the recital of this yarn of ours reminded the Englishman of an experience of his own—and that was what I had started to tell you when I had to branch off into so many explanations.
"Rather brutal bit of luck, I should call it," observed the English captain, referring to Bones' racing exploit. "Must have been very melancholy for the troopers. Well, luck's a factor that can't be disregarded. I had a rare slice of luck myself, once on a time, and in the way of riding, too. Fancy I'll tell you of it. Do you mind?"
No, we didn't mind; and so Captain Penryhn proceeded to tax our credulity in this wise:
"I ran upon this particular piece of good fortune in—let me think—in '84," said he, bringing out his words slowly and with an accent which fell oddly upon our ears, and yet certainly detracted nothing from the interest of the story. "It was in Egypt, where we'd had to interfere somewhat in the course of matters. Daresay you remember what led up to all the bother?" Van nodded assent, and so I could do no less, though I'm morally certain that our combinedknowledge of the Egyptian question could have been put into four lines of type without overcrowding. "Then I'll jumpin medias resat once," Penryhn went on, "merely stopping to explain how I happened to be in Egypt at that time.
"I then was in the Sixty-fifth—the 'York and Lancaster' regiment—the same corps in which I now hold my captaincy. I was on leave, however, and had obtained permission to attach myself to the staff of Baker Pacha, who was fitting out his expedition for the relief of Tokar. I'd gone into this venture simply for the fun of the thing, but before I got quit of it I was forced to the conclusion that I possibly had been led into it under a mistaken set of impressions; for the fun was much less in quantity and of a far poorer quality than I had anticipated."
Penryhn picked up the mug which Sam had set upon the table, took a long pull at its amber contents, and then remarked, "Do you know, this American beer of yours is very good? In fact, I find myself coming to fancy it strongly, though I must admit that at first I didn't. It's much the same with Americans themselves: we Englishmenreally don't care much about them until we learn to know them well, but when wedoknow them we become very fond of them. I found that to be so in the case of Carroll—Major Carroll, of your Eighteenth Regular Cavalry, who was with me on the campaign of which I am telling."
"Of our Eighteenth Cavalry?" said I, inquiringly. "Why, how came he in Egypt?"
"He was looking for sport, as I was," Captain Penryhn replied. "He was militaryattachéat Berlin, and had got leave for a few months. We both were volunteer aides-de-camp to Baker."
Here, noticing that the Englishman had got well towards the last inch of his cigar, I silently proffered my freshly filled case. He half drew out a weed, but pushed it back to its place, saying "I'm of a mind to try one of your pipes, if I may?"
"You certainly shall," said I. "Hi! Sam, bring the cobs." Penryhn took a pipe, filled and lighted it, and then remarked, "Oh, I say! I rather wondered why so many of you were smoking these things, butnowI don't. Sweet, isn't it, eh?"
"Yes, we call a cobful of plug a comfortingsort of smoke," said Van, "and it takes the entire crop of a fifty-acre cornfield to keep The Battery supplied with smoking utensils."
"Not really?" said our astonished guest.
"Possibly not quite," I put in; and then, in order to check Van in any further flights of imagination, I asked, "Didn't you have some difficulty, captain, in getting your expedition into shape? As I recall it, at this late day, Baker Pacha rather came to grief in his attempt at relieving Tokar."
"Difficulty?" said Penryhn. "Yes, we had an abundance of it. Baker had drawn together a mob of something over five thousand men. Did I saymen? Sheep would be better—and black sheep, too; for the rabble we had with us, under the nickname of 'soldiers,' was made up for the most part of cowardly Egyptianfellahen, who had been driven into the ranks either through fear of the bastinado or else by the actual application of it. Great Wolseley! Never such a mob had masqueraded as an army since war was invented."
"How were you officered?" asked Stearns, tossing a match to Van, whose pipe had managed to go out.
"Mainly by Egyptians," replied the Englishman, "though there were enough Europeans to pound the mass into at least a semblance of order and discipline. But it's utterly impossible to put brains into a solid Egyptian skull, nor can you put any heart into one of those miserable, half-humanfellahen: and that was unfortunate, you know, because it takes a tidy bit of heart to go out into the desert against the wild tribesmen; while as for brains—well, enough brains for aiming and firing a rifle are almost indispensable. 'Pon my soul, we actually lost scores of men by the random firing of our own troops. What d'ye think ofthat?"
"I think you ought to have had Van Sickles, here, to do a little missionary work among your marksmen," said I, laughing. "He's our I.R.P., you know, and since he came into commission he has been eminently successful in keeping our boys from killing each other."
"Beg pardon," said Penryhn, doubtfully, "your I.R.P.?"
"Inspector of rifle practice," explained Van, adding, "Shouldn't think you could have afforded to waste your darkies in that fashion."
"My dear fellow," said our visitor, in a tone of the deepest disgust, "it isn't possible to waste an Egyptian soldier. The only waste I can think of is that of the powder and lead it takes to blow him to—to oblivion."
"That was good material to recruit from," remarked Stearns. "Didn't you feel a little shaky about going out with it?"
"I've not the slightest hesitation in admitting that I did," replied the English captain; "and just before we started on our final advance, I bet a dinner with Major Carroll that if we got into a fight, our black regiments wouldn't face the music for an hour. It wasn't a bad bet, for I won by a good, wide margin.
"Well, on the fourth of February, in '84, we marched out our 'army' from Trinkitat, waded across the shallow lagoon to the mainland, and struck out over the sands for Tokar—twenty miles away. You think that you have done rapid work to-day in fighting a sham battle inside half-a-dozen hours, butwemade a record that, in one way, is incomparably better than yours; for we marched four miles, fought just fifteen minutes bymy bracelet watch, and the campaignendedright there! Can you equal that, eh?"
"Blest if it wasn't hustling!" said Stearns. "You had pretty nearly a soft thing in that bet of yours, didn't you?"
"It wasn't half a bad speculation," replied Penryhn, as Sam replaced our empties by four newly filled pewters. "Bah! a good part of our fellows couldn't find spirit enough even to run, and stood stock-still, paralyzed with fright, until they were cut down in their tracks. The rest of 'em—and the braver onestheywere—set off on a jog-trot for Trinkitat, going just fast enough to afford gentle exercise to the cheerful savages, who trotted along after them and carved them up at their leisure. Ah, perhaps things weren't in a devil of a box!"
"I judge that you wasted precious little time in trying to rally your men," observed Stearns.
"On that point your judgment is very fair indeed," returned the Englishman. "Rallies aren't manufactured out of that kind of rubbish. I much sooner should have thought of attempting to catch a hurricane in a scoop-net. Perhaps if I'd been onhand at the first break I might have had a try or two at it, but it so happened that I'd been sent with a handful of native cavalry to scatter a bunch of horsemen threatening our flank. When I left the column on this errand, Baker was preparing to 'form square,' but the Mahdi's men came dancing in before he had time for the manœuvre, and when we came galloping back from our dash the fight wasover; and, as I've said, fifteen minutes had been time, and ample, for the winding up of that campaign.
"It was a very rum go, and I reflected that, under all the circumstances, I might as well devote my time and attention to getting myself, with unpunctured skin, back to Trinkitat. However, I thought I'd edge in a bit towards the flying rabble, on the chance of falling in with Carroll; and so I spurred into the outskirts of the mob of fright-crazed blacks. As luck would have it, I ran upon my man almost immediately, and to my dying day I never shall forget how he was busying himself.
"You may think it absurd, but when I rode up to your countryman I found him holding by the collar an Egyptian major,whom he was spanking—yes, actuallyspanking!—with the flat of his sword. Affairs were at the last ditch of desperation, and every moment's delay brought death by so much the closer; and yet, for the life of me, I couldn't help laughing at the sight. The poor major was bawling and sobbing with pain and fright, while Carroll was laying it on with jolly goodwill, accompanying each whack with a burst of transatlantic profanity which, under any ordinary circumstances, would have made me shiver.
"But I hadn't any time to waste in watching performances of this sort, and so I rode up closer, yelling, 'Carroll!Carroll, old man, are you mad? You've not an instant to spare! The black devils are close upon us! Where's your horse?' Carroll gave two more resounding whacks to his captive, shook him until his teeth rattled, and then set him free, with a parting kick to speed him on his way to safety. Then he looked up at me with, 'Hello, Pen! My horse? That mud-colored major—I hope they'll lift his woolly scalp!—heshotmy horse! Pulled his revolver, shut both eyes, blazed away, and hit poor oldSelim.I swear, Pen, he nearly made me lose my temper!'"
"Were your native officers all as efficient as this one?" I inquired, after we had laughed a little over this piece of marksmanship.
"Why, compared with the others, he was a hero," said Penryhn, in all earnestness, "for he actually fired a shot. Most of 'em turned and ran without even stopping to pull trigger.
"But though all this now may seem funny enough in the telling, the humor of the situation wasn't quite so apparentthen, for the few seconds that this little occurrence had consumed had brought danger very close to us. The half-naked Arabs had begun to carve their way right into the heart of our stampeding crowd, and from my seat in the saddle I could see them getting altogether too neighborly to suit my ideas of comfort. 'Catch hold of my stirrup,' I said to Carroll, 'and come along out of this.' He sprang towards me, but before he reached my side a great wiry savage came tearing through the mob, and with one sweep of his long sword hamstrung my horse. Probably he meant tohave taken a shy next at me, but he lost the chance, for Carroll plumped a bullet into his neck, and he went tumbling down all of a heap. All that, though, was cold comfort; for there we were,on foot, and with any odds you please against our getting out of the scrape alive.
"'The game's up, old fellow,' said I, clearing myself from my struggling horse. 'Come up here to me, and so long as our ammunition lasts we'll fight it out, back to back.' Our chances seemed so desperate, you see, that I didn't give even a thought to escape. 'The hell we will!' responded Carroll, whose language somehow seemed unnecessarily lurid, 'I guessnot! Pick up your heels, Pen, and make a scramble for it. We can fight just as well running as we can standing still.'
"At the word he started off, and I followed him, for though death seemed inevitable I didn't have quite the courage to stay and face it alone. 'It's no sort of use,' I panted, as we ran along side by side; 'we can't foot it for four miles over this sand—in our boots, too—and get clear of those naked desert-devils.'
"'Well, who's going to?' was the answerI got. Carroll had looked over his shoulder, and catching sight of a camel which, urged on by a Soudanese, was lumbering down upon us, he halted and faced about. 'Hi! you black son-of-the-Nile,' he shouted, 'hold up! Youwon't?' he went on, bringing up his revolver, and roaring out his command in Arabic. 'Take that, then!' and he fired twice. The first shot was a clean miss, but at the second the poor chap rolled over and dropped headlong upon the sand, while Carroll jumped to catch the riderless camel. 'Hold him by the nose!' I yelled, 'that's the only way you can manage him!' 'I'vegot him,' he sang out in reply, as he caught the dangling cord. 'Whoa! you hump-backed beast of misery! Hi! Steady, you four-legged, graceful nightmare! How in blazes, Pen, can we make him kneel?'"
"Well, howdidyou?" inquired Van, removing his pipe from between his teeth in order to ask the question.
"We simply didn't," said the Englishman, blowing forth a mighty volume of fragrant smoke, and following this up with a succession of short puffs, "because neither of us knew the trick. 'He looks higher than a house,' saidI, as I stood helplessly beside the ungainly animal, 'but we've got to scale him somehow.' 'Here, hold his head,' said Carroll, 'and I'll make a bluff at mounting him,' and then, after we had exchanged places, he sprang up, caught at some part or other of the camel's trappings, and managed to haul himself up. 'Pass up the lines, Pen, and look lively,' he called out. 'Old Humpty's getting uneasy—and so am I. Give me your hand, and climb as if the Mahdi himself were after you!' I tossed him the rein, and started to follow him up, but the minute I released the camel's head the terrified beast lunged forward, knocking me over like a ninepin, and when I got to my feet again he was fifty yards away—and going like a race-horse.
"'Clean bowled!' I muttered, as I realized what had happened. 'He can't manage him, so my last chance is played,' and with a farewell glance at Carroll's receding figure I faced towards the desert—the direction from which I knew my death was on its way to me—drew my revolver, filled an empty chamber in it, cocked it, and waited for the end.
"All around me the rush of terror-strickenblacks continued, while in front, and not far away, I could catch the flash and gleam of steel when some Arab butcher hove his sword up into the air, to bring it whistling down upon one of our defenceless darkies. Frightened? Yes, I was in a blue funk, but it was the sort of fear that has a good share of ugliness in it, and I shut my teeth down and watched out for some one to kill.
"In a fix like that a little time goes a long way, and it seemed as though I had been standing there for hours—though probably it was a matter of but minutes—when a long, misshapen shadow darkened the sand beside me, and I heard a voice shouting, 'Quick, Pen, for your life! Your hand, old chap—your hand! I can't control this fellow much longer!' It was Carroll—the blessed, profane old angel!—who had worked some Yankee miracle with that camel, and had come back to pick me out of the wreck.
"Without a word, for seconds were precious then, I thrust my revolver into my belt—not the most careful thing I could have done, considering that it was full-cocked—and by a desperate bit of scrambling got up behind my rescuer. Off started the camel,stretched out at top-speed, swaying from side to side, and plunging and rising like a troop-ship in the Bay of Biscay, while we two fugitives clung to whatever we could lay hands upon. But it was comforting to note the rate at which he took himself over the sand, and I actually began to pluck up a trifle."
"Then you didn't complain of your accommodations," remarked Stearns, suggestively.
"I? No, I wouldn't have minded being tossed in a blanket if each toss had sent me away from Osman Digna's sweating savages.
"Well, we hung on like monkeys, and after a time became used to the jolting. Finally Carroll turned his head and said, 'You all right, Pen?'
"'Yes; and you?' said I.
"'Happy as a hoo-poo,' said he; 'but I've got all I can do to steer. You'll have to do the shooting, old man; and when your gun goes dry you'll find two shots left in mine. Help yourself to it, if you need it.'
"Now, I'm quite certain that I couldn't have hit a bungalow, under the circumstances, but I piped up cheerfully with, 'All right;you keep your eye out for Trinkitat, and I'll 'tend to matters at this end.'
"Luckily I didn't have to experiment at holding on with one hand and shooting with the other, for our long-legged mount held his gait nobly, and took us into Trinkitat, sound and safe, and at such a rate of going that we weren't much behind Baker and those of his staff who had escaped with him."
"Hm! that was a near call, Captain Penryhn," observed Van Sickles.
"I certainly thought so at the time," said the Englishman, shifting his position in his chair, "and I've seen no cause since to change my opinion. Carroll affected to make light of the whole affair, though, and declared that we could have got away on foot; and to prove it, he brought up the case of his Egyptian major, who actually managed to escape."
"No! Really?" asked Stearns. "I should hope that he and Carroll didn't meet afterwards."
"But they did," said Penryhn, with an expansive grin. "Oh, yes, they met—and it was a funny meeting, too. Carroll walked right up to his man, grabbed him by thehand, and congratulated him on his escape. And then he apologized for his conduct, and said that he felt compelled to give satisfaction for it; wherefore he would meet the aggrieved Egyptian whenever and wherever he might choose, and would fight him in whatever way he might be pleased to suggest. But this generous offer was too much for our native friend, and with a profusion of thanks truly Oriental he declined it, even going so far as to declare that the slapping he had undergone at the hands of the ever-noble and beneficent Carroll—'might his illustrious line long be permitted to continue!'—without doubt had saved his life, since it had been the means of spurring him on to a magnificent and gloriously maintained dash for safety. And so that matter ended happily and to the complete satisfaction of all concerned."
At this point the colonel came over to our corner and carried away Penryhn to show him the photographs of our field-work of the previous year. Stearns got up and went with them, leaving Van and me to smoke in comfort and exchange at our leisure our views of things in general. Now, that manVan Sickles is a sceptical sort of person, and he began to question the probability of the Englishman's story; but I maintained, as I still do, that it must have been true—for I'm myself something of a liar, and it's hard work for a brother-prevaricator to take me into camp. So I tell you the yarn in the full confidence that it is a true one; and I further will remark that last spring Penryhn sent over to Stearns an Arab shield, together with half a dozen villainous, iron-bound spears and a couple of long, straight, nasty-looking swords, all of which things now may be seen up in The Battery, where we've arranged them upon the wall, above the big book-case.
THE HYMN THAT HELPED