THE PUNISHMENT PARADE.
"Most worthy sergeant, I have seen thee lead,
Where men among us would be slow to follow;
Udsdaggers, yes! By trench and culverine,
Where men and horses too, lay foully heap'd
On other; and hath it come to this, good sergeant,
Beshrew my heart--a prisoner and afeared."
_Old Play._
Plain though it was, being destitute of lace or epaulettes, poor
Quentin was very proud of his volunteer uniform, and being eminently
a handsome young man, he looked very well in it. The coarse buff
crossbelts, the pouch, and bayonet, and, more especially, the Brown
Bess he had to carry, did not suit his taste quite so well. He had
imagined that he would have to shoulder a kind of Joe Manton, or
something like a smart Enfield rifle of the present day, with a
"draw" of ten pounds or less on the trigger, instead of a long
blunderbuss like the regulation musket of those days, weighing
fourteen pounds, with its enormous butt-plate of brass and so forth.
Thanks to the teaching of the old quartermaster, he proved himself so
apt a pupil under the sergeant-major and old Norman Calder, that
within a week he was reported as "fit for duty," as Monkton said,
"doing as much credit to his preceptors as to the cabbage-stalk," for
so he designated the army tailor.
But we are anticipating.
His first parade was an inauspicious one, in so far as it was for
punishment.
A sergeant of the regiment had been recently tried by a regimental
court-martial for permitting spirits to be brought by a woman to the
main guard-house at night, while he was in command, and by these
means certain prisoners became intoxicated and riotous. He alleged
that he was asleep on that luxurious couch, the guard bed, after
posting his sentinels, and that the fault lay with his corporal and
others; but the plea was urged in vain--the corps was under orders
for foreign service--an example was necessary; so he was now to
receive the award of his dereliction of duty, and as the drum-major
had received some special instructions over night, all knew that it
involved the application of the now (happily) almost obsolete
instrument--the cat!
The degradation of a non-commissioned officer is always a painful
duty; but when flogging is added thereto, it is doubly painful to the
witnesses, and maddening to the culprit.
"I told you old Middleton was a Tartar," said Monkton, as he and
Quentin hurried downstairs from their quarters; "he'd certainly flog
ensigns if he could; and the _Gazette_ of last night won't have
improved his variable temper. But here he comes, mounted, with
holsters and blue saddle-cloth, but looking for all the world like an
old woman trotting to market with her butter and eggs. Such a
seat--such a queer length, or rather want of length, in the
stirrup-leathers! Good morning, Buckle--so we are to have a
flogging--ugh? that isn't lively."
Quentin being a young hand, felt somewhat awed, as he knew not what
was about to ensue. The sun had not yet risen, and the September
morning was chilly and misty; the men of the regiment were falling in
by companies under arms in light marching order--the tall grenadiers
on the right with their black bearskin caps; the smart light company
on the left with green plumes in their shakos, and Saxon horns on all
their appointments; the sergeants were calling the various rolls; the
officers were gathered in a somewhat silent group, and the face of
every man wore a sullen, or rather dejected expression, for a
punishment parade is the kind of parade least liked by soldiers of
all ranks. It acts as a damper on the spirits of all; on this
morning the atmosphere was dense; the sombre sun seemed to linger
behind the uplands of Suffolk, and the shadows to lie deeper in the
silent barrack square.
Impressed by the taciturnity and gloomy expression of the men, whose
faces wore the pallor incident to all who come from bed in haste at
an unusual hour, Quentin remained silent and full of expectation and
anxiety as he fell into the rear rank of Captain Askerne's company,
to which he was to be permanently attached. He was sensible,
however, that the soldiers viewed him with interest, as a volunteer
is always popular. It was to rescue Thomas Grahame, when lying
severely wounded, and then serving as a simple volunteer in the red
coat of the Caledonian Hunt, that our troops in Holland made one of
their most desperate rallies, and gained to the service the future
Lord Lynedoch, the hero of Barossa.
The inspection of the companies and the drum for coverers rapidly
followed the calling of the muster-rolls; a bugle sounded; the
officers fell in; the bayonets were fixed, and the regiment, without
music, was marched silently by sections to a secluded part of the
barracks, where, surrounded by high stores and magazines, no
stranger's eye could oversee the proceedings, and then it was formed
in a hollow square, in the centre of which Quentin perceived three
sergeants' pikes (weapons not disused till 1830) strapped together by
the heads, an equilateral triangle being formed by the shafts, which
were stuck in the earth. Near these were the drummers and
drum-major, who carried in his hand a canvas bag, which, as Quentin
was informed in a whisper by the next file on his right, contained
"the cats."
"The officer with the cocked hat, and without a sash, close by, is
the doctor," he added.
"The doctor--for what is he required?"
"You'll too soon see that, sir," was the ominous response.
"Steady, rear rank--silence," growled old Sergeant Calder.
At that moment one of the drummers drew forth a cat, and Quentin
could perceive that it consisted of nine tails of whipcord, each
having nine knots thereon, and these were firmly lashed to a handle
about the length of a drum-stick. A slight shudder with an emotion
of sickness came over him; and he looked anxiously at the face of
Major Middleton, but it seemed immovable as he said to the
sergeant-major with studied sternness of tone,
"March in the prisoner."
A section in the face of the square wheeled backward and permitted
the unfortunate, with his escort, consisting of a corporal and two
men of the barrack-guard, to march in and halt before the major, on
which the culprit took off his forage-cap and stood bareheaded, the
centre of all observation.
He cast a haggard glance at the triangles; another half furtively and
restlessly at the stolid faces round him, and then he seemed to
become immovable. There was little need for Mr. Buckle, the
adjutant, to read over the proceedings of the Court, for the hopeless
sergeant knew at once his double degradation and his doom!
He was to be reduced to the rank and pay of a private, and to receive
_three hundred and fifty lashes_, the utmost number a regimental
court could then award; with the option, if he would avoid this
extreme punishment, of volunteering to serve for life (_i.e._ till
disabled by wounds or age) in the York Chasseurs, or any other
condemned corps, in Africa or the West Indies.
His name was Allan Grange, the colour-sergeant of the Grenadiers, who
always considered themselves the _corps d'élite_ of a regiment.
Altogether he was a model of a man, erect and strong in figure, his
hair was a little grizzled about the temples, and his face was
somewhat careworn, as if he had known or suffered much anxiety and
trouble in his time. His eye was clear and keen, and save a little
nervous twitching about the muscles of the mouth, he seemed unmoved
and unflinching--unflinching as when on the glorious field of
Egmont-op-Zee, he commanded the Grenadiers of the 25th, after all
their officers had fallen, and with his pike broken in his hand by a
musket shot, led them to that bloody hand-to-hand conflict on the
road that leads to Haarlem.
Perhaps the poor fellow was thinking of that signal and bloody
day--perhaps of his boyhood and his home; it might be of the future,
that was all a blank; for he seemed as in a dream while the adjutant
read over the formula of the trial, the list of charges and the
sentence, till he was roused by the drum-major proceeding to rip off
with a penknife the three hard-won chevrons from his right arm. It
was done gently, but "the iron seemed to enter his soul" at the
moment, and a heavy sigh escaped him as his chin sank on his breast.
"Allan Grange," said Major Middleton, raising his voice clearly and
distinctly, that the whole of the hollow square and even its
supernumerary ranks might hear, "you are the last man in the whole
Borderers whom I could have expected to see standing before us as you
do to-day. In cutting off your stripes I feel extreme reluctance and
sorrow, and I think you have known me long enough to be aware of
that."
"I am, major--I am aware of it," said the reduced man in a hollow
voice.
"Allan Grange, you have come of a respectable old Scottish stock in
Lothian: you were born in my native place, and are one of the many
fine lads who came with me to the line from the Buccleugh Fencibles.
I know well how, in your native village, the Stenhouse, your name and
progress have been watched by early friends and old schoolfellows; by
none more than your father, who now lies in Liberton kirkyard, by the
good old mother who nursed you; by the old dominie who taught you; by
the grey-haired minister who will ere long see your name affixed, as
that of a degraded man, on the kirk-door. I know how, at the village
inn on the braehead, in the smithy at the loan-end, at the mill
beside the burn, it would be known that Allan Grange had been made a
corporal--that he had gained his third stripe--that he had been made
a colour-sergeant; and I can imagine how the listeners would drink to
your health and to mine, in the hope that we should one day see you
an officer; and now--_now_--by one act of folly you are again at the
foot of the ladder!"
A heavy sigh escaped the sergeant; the drum-major's knife gave a
final rip, and he stood once more a private on parade!
"The worst part of your sentence yet remains--unless--unless you
volunteer into the York Chasseurs."
"Major Middleton," said Grange, firmly, and standing erect, like a
fine man as he was, "I'll not leave the regiment!"
The man was fearfully pale, and it was evident to all that Middleton,
though a strict and sometimes severe officer, was greatly moved.
"You will rather take three hundred and fifty lashes than volunteer?"
he asked.
"I'd volunteer for a forlorn hope; I've done so before now, sir, as
you know well, but I'll not quit the old 25th for a condemned corps.
I'll take my punishment--I've earned it like a fool, and with God's
help, I hope to bear it like a man."
"Then strip, sir," said Middleton, playing nervously with the blue
ribbons of his gorget.
All emotion seemed to pass away as the culprit proceeded deliberately
to unclasp his leather stock and unbutton his coat; but before it was
off the major exclaimed in a loud voice, as he drew a letter from his
pocket--
"_Stop!_"
Grange paused, and looked up with a haggard and bloodshot eye.
"I remit the rest of the sentence, for the sake of one who intercedes
for you."
"Sir?"
"I have had a petition from your wife, and willingly grant it. Take
away the triangles. Conduct yourself as you did till this misfortune
came upon you, and ere long, Grange, you may regain the stripes you
have to-day been deprived of. Rejoin your company."
"I thank you, sir, for the sake of my poor wife and her bairnie. I
have proved that I would rather take my punishment than leave the
regiment and you; and--sir--sir----"
Here Grange fairly broke down and sobbed aloud; and no man among the
nine hundred there thought the less of him, because his stout heart,
which even the terror of the lash could not appal, now became full of
penitence and gratitude. At that moment many an eye glistened in the
ranks, and many a heart was swelling.
"There, there--don't make a fuss," said Middleton, testily; "I hate
scenes! Prepare to form quarter-distance column right in
front--stand fast the Light Company."
And so ended an episode, that, like the warm rising sun now shining
cheerfully into the barrack-square, shed a brightness over every
face, and lent a lightness--a sense of pleasure and relief to every
heart, as the regiment marched back to quarters, and to what was of
some importance after being two hours under arms in the morning
air--breakfast.