Gil the Gunner by George Manville Fenn (e book reader free .TXT) 📖

the Cape, and then we sailed on again north and east.

It was a long, slow, monotonous voyage, during which I went on learning a good deal of my profession, for there was drilling every morning on deck, and the draft of men were marched and countermarched till the rough body of recruits began to fall correctly into the various movements, while I supplemented the knowledge I had acquired as a cadet, and more than once obtained a few words of praise from the sergeant with the draft, and what were to me high eulogies from Captain Brace.

“Nothing like mastering the infantry drill, Vincent,” he said to me one day. “Young officers know, as a rule, far too little of foot drill. It will save you a good deal of trouble when we get there.”

It was monotonous but not unpleasant, that voyage out. We had the customary sports on crossing the line; we fished and caught very little, though the men captured the inevitable shark with the lump of salt pork; and used the grains, as they called the three-pronged fork, to harpoon dolphins. I had my first sight of flying fish, and made friends with the officers. Then there was music and dancing on the hot moonlit nights; deck quoits under the awning by day; a good deal more sleep than we took at home; and at last we reached Ceylon and touched at Colombo, where everything struck me as being wonderfully unlike what I had pictured in my own mind.

“Well,” said Captain Brace one evening, after we had had a run together on the shore, “what do you think of the Cingalese?”

“That they look so effeminate,” I said.

“Exactly,” he replied, nodding his head as I went on.

“They are not bad looking; but it looks so absurd to see those elderly men dressed in muslins, with drawers and clothes that put me in mind of little girls about to go to a children’s party or a dance.”

He looked amused, and I continued—

“And then the ordinary people, with their oily black hair all done up in a knot behind and held by a comb. It does look so womanish.”

“Yes; to us,” said Captain Brace. “But their clothes are comfortable for the hot climate, and that is more than you will be able to say of ours when you get out in the plains in full uniform some day.”

“And it will not be long first now,” I thought; and I did not look forward to my first appearance in full uniform under a hot sun with any degree of dread.

Then we were once more at sea, sailing on and on through fine weather and foul, till I learned that we were sailing up through the Sunderbunds, and on up the Hooghly, passing outward-bound vessels with great towering East Indiamen among them. Then the shore began to draw in, and I learned from one that there was good tiger-shooting in that district, beyond where I could see a fringe of palms, and from another that it would not be safe to bathe where we were.

“On account of sharks,” I said, with an assumption of knowledge.

“No, sir; muggers.”

And when I stared inquiringly, he added—

“Crocodiles; and higher up the river, sir, great turtles, which will snap a man, or a horse, or a dood to pieces in no time.”

It was the same evening that I was standing looking at the low, far-off shore, with Captain Brace, and I said quietly—

“I say, that little stout Mr Binns—”

“Mr Commissioner Binns,” said the Captain. “Give him his full title. What about him?”

“Was he telling me travellers’ tales about the crocodiles—muggers, as he called them—and the risk of bathing?”

“Oh no; they swarm in this muddy river. I wonder they have let that come down.”

He pointed to something floating at a short distance from the ship, and I looked at it with curiosity.

“Some dead animal?” I said.

“A dead man, Vincent. We are going up the estuary of the sacred river, you know, and it is the burial-place of the great cities which are upon its bank.”

I turned away from the floating object with a shudder of horror, and was silent for some minutes, but broke out with—

“But the great turtles—will they drag a man or a horse under water, and eat him?”

“I have never seen it,” he replied; “but I have seen them attack a dood.”

“What is a dood?”

“A camel; one of a troop fording the river. It had plunged into a deep hole, and before it could struggle back into the shallow it was pulled under, and never rose again.”

“Ugh!” I shuddered; “how horrid!”

“Yes. You will know the danger if ever you have to take your men across a ford.”

A couple of days later we were anchored in the great stream in front of the city of palaces, and I was gazing with eyes full of wonder and eagerness at the noble buildings, the great flights of steps leading down to the water, the constant procession of people to and fro, with huge elephants gaily caparisoned and bearing temple-like howdahs, some filled with Europeans, more often with turbaned chiefs or people of importance. The white garments and turbans of the natives gave a light and varied look in the bright sunshine, while amongst them were the carriages of the English residents, the handsome horses of officers, and the gay uniforms of the English and native troops, from whose weapons the dazzling sunshine flashed.

“Yes; plenty of the military element,” said Captain Brace, pointing out different figures in the busy scene. “Take my glass,” he continued. “That’s a sepoy regiment. You can see their dark faces.”

“Yes, I see,” I cried eagerly.

“Do you see those two mounted men in white, with lances?”

“Yes; who are they?”

“Sowars of the native cavalry; and that little half troop behind—you can tell what they are?”

“They look like English hussars,” I said.

“Right. Part of the eighth, I should say. They are stationed here.”

“But they are not the East India Company’s men.”

“No. Part of the regular army. Those sowars are some of ours, and— Ah, you are in luck,” he cried, taking back the glass and using it quickly, before lending it again. “Look: there are some of the horse brigade.”

“Artillery?” I cried excitedly.

“Yes; and in review order. A troop of our horse artillery with their guns.”

My hands trembled so that I could hardly bring the glass to bear upon the long line of men, but at last I had it correct, and excitedly saw them file by at a distance, the sun glancing on their polished brass helmets with long trailing plumes of red horsehair; their blue heavily braided jackets looking as if suddenly cut off by the men’s white breeches, and then again by their heavy black boots.

It was to me a gallant show, and I drew a long, deep breath as I counted the guns with the men mounted upon the limbers, and watched attentively till they passed out of sight.

“Well,” said my companion, “what do you think of our brigade?”

“Oh!” I ejaculated, “I wish I belonged.”

A very brief reply, but the tone made my sad-looking companion smile sadly.

“Ah, Vincent,” he said, “you can only see the parade and show. Yes; it is very bright and fresh to you, but the time will come when all that pomp will be very irksome to you, and you will wish that the Company would let you dress simply and sensibly in a uniform suited to this terrible climate, and in which you could use your limbs freely without distressing yourself and your horse.”

“But they look magnificent,” I said.

“Yes, brilliant, my lad, brilliant; but there is another side to soldiering besides the show. There! all this sounds as if I were trying to damp and discourage you, but I have had seven years’ hard work out here in India, Vincent; perhaps, when you have been here as long, you may talk as I do.”

“I shall not,” I muttered to myself. “I should be a poor soldier if I did. What did you say?” I said aloud.

“I said that to-morrow morning we go ashore, and I can introduce you at head-quarters when I go to report myself. But, Vincent, my lad, what luck it would be if you had been in the horse brigade, and found yourself appointed to my troop.”

“Yes,” I said, rather non-enthusiastically, for my hopes went in quite a contrary direction.

“You would rather not,” he said, gazing at me sadly, and I coloured up like a girl, for I felt that he had read my thoughts. “I’m afraid you don’t like me, my lad.”

My face burned as I said, “I’ve tried hard to like you ever since we met.”

“Tried,” he said, smiling, as he raised his brows. “Ah, well! that is frankly spoken, after all,” and he walked away, leaving me feeling that I had hurt his feelings by showing that I did not like him in the least.

We met next day, and I went with him to report myself, the officers I saw making more than one jocular allusion to my being so much of a boy, but good-humouredly telling me that I should soon correct that. Then followed my introduction to my company in the artillery, where with my Brandscombe knowledge I was soon able to hold my own, and obtained some little notoriety from the interest I took in the horses which drew our heavy guns. I never let slip a chance either of being present at the parades of the horse artillery, visiting Captain Brace often; and I am afraid very selfishly, for I felt little warmth for him as a man, though a great deal for him as an officer, as I admired his bearing and the way in which he handled his men.

And so a year passed away, and then came a day when I had to appear at head-quarters, where I showed myself, feeling that I was in disgrace for some reason or another.

I was kept waiting for some little time before an orderly bade me follow him, and directly after, I found myself in the presence of four stern-looking officers, who began to question me severely, one beginning as soon as another ceased.

I suppose my replies were satisfactory, all being on technical matters connected with field-gunnery, but what it all meant, unless I was to be promoted, I could not tell.

At last the officer who seemed to be the head, turned to me.

“Look here, Lieutenant Vincent,” he said; “this sharp examination is due to the fact that some pressure has been brought to bear, to have you transferred to the horse artillery.”

I turned scarlet with excitement. “Well, sir, we naturally resent this, as we are proud of our horse service, and do not want some lout with interest to back him, foisted upon us. It would be degrading, but I tell you frankly that we are favourably impressed.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“We have carefully gone into your antecedents. We find that you are the son of a distinguished officer in the Queen’s service; that your career at Brandscombe was excellent, and we learn nothing but good of you in connection with your year’s work here.”

I bowed.

“Of course, we push you forward reluctantly, for it is a great honour to such a youth as you are. Why, you will be the youngest officer in the horse artillery.”

“I am young, sir,” I said, humbly, but with my heart beating fast.

“And there is another thing before this is settled. What about riding?”

“I can ride anything, sir,” I said eagerly.

“Indeed!”

“I have hunted a great deal at home.”

“Ah, well, I suppose we must give way, and I hope you will prove worthy of your promotion to so gallant a corps. By the way, you know Captain Brace?”

“Oh yes, sir,” I replied.

“Yes; he speaks very highly of you. So you shall go on probation with his troop at Rambagh.”

I tried to speak, but no words came.

“Which means, Mr Vincent,” said another of the old officers, “that if you prove yourself a soldier of spirit you