That's a pretty busy time, that first half-hour after a halt: what with
setting loosely up a few tents, and getting a fire lighted, and fetching
water; but in spite of our being tired, we soon had things right. There
was the colonel's tent, Colonel Maine--a little stout man, that we all
used to laugh at, because he was such a pudgy, round, good-tempered
chap, who never troubled about anything; for we hadn't learned then what
was lying asleep in his brave little body, waiting to be brought out.
Then there was the mess-tent for the officers, and the hospital-tent for
those on the sick-list, beside our bell-tents, that we shouldn't have
set up at all, only to act as sunshades. But, of course, the principal
tent was the colonel's.
Well, there they were, the colonel and his lady, Mrs Maine--a nice,
kindly-spoken, youngish woman: twenty years younger than he, she was;
but for all that, a happier couple never breathed; and they two used to
seem as if the regiment, and India, and all the natives were made on
purpose to fall down and worship the two little golden idols they'd set
up--a little girl and a little boy, you know. Cock Robin and Jenny
Wren, we chaps used to call them, though Jenny Wren was about a year and
a half the oldest. And I believe it was from living in France a bit
that the colonel's wife had got the notion of dressing them so; but it
would have done your heart good to see those two children--the boy with
his little red tunic and his sword, and the girl with her red jacket and
belt, and a little canteen of wine and water, and a tiny tin mug; and
them little things driving the old black ayah half wild with the way
they used to dodge away from her to get amongst the men, who took no end
of delight in bamboozling the fat old woman when she was hunting for
them, sending her here and there and everywhere, till she'd turn round
and make signs with her hands, and spit on the ground, which was her way
of cursing us. For I must say that we English were very, very careless
about what we did or said to the natives. Officers and men, all alike,
seemed to look upon them as something very little better than beasts,
and talked to them as if they had no feelings at all, little thinking
what fierce masters the trampled slaves could turn out, if ever they had
their day--the day that the old proverb says is sure to come for every
dog; and there was not a soul among us then that had the least bit of
suspicion that the dog--by which, you know, I mean the Indian
generally--was going mad, and sharpening those teeth of his ready to
bite.
Well, as a matter of course, there were other people in our regiment
that I ought to mention: Captain Dyer I did name; but there was a
lieutenant, a very good-looking young fellow, who was a great favourite
with the Colonel and Mrs Maine; and he dined a deal with them at times,
besides being a great chum of Captain Dyer's--they two shooting
together, and being like brothers, though there was a something in
Lieutenant Leigh that I never seemed to take to. Then there was the
doctor--a Welshman he was, and he used to make it his boast that our
regiment was about the healthiest anywhere; and I tell you what it is,
if you were ill once, and in hospital, as we call it--though, you know,
with a marching regiment that only means anywhere till you get well--I
say, if you were ill once, and under his hands, you'd think twice before
you made up your mind to be ill again, and be very bad too before you
went to him. Pestle, we used to call him, though his name was Hughes;
and how we men did hate him, mortally, till we found put his real
character, when we were lying cut to pieces almost, and him ready to cry
over us at times as he tried to bring us round. "Hold up, my lads,"
he'd say, "only another hour, and you'll be round the corner!" when what
there was left of us did him justice. Then, of course, there were other
officers, and some away with the major, and another battalion of our
regiment at Wallahbad; but they've nothing to do with my story.
I don't think I can do better now than introduce you to our mess on the
very morning of this halt, when, after cooling myself with a pipe, just
the same as I should have warmed myself with a pipe if it had been in
Canady or Nova Scotia, I walked up to find all ready for breakfast, and
Mrs Bantem making the tea.
Some of the men didn't fail to laugh at us who took our tea for
breakfast; but all the same I liked it, for it always took me home, tea
did--and to the days when my poor old mother used to say that there
never was such a boy for bread-and-butter as I was; not as there was
ever so much butter that she need have grumbled, whatever I cost for
bread; and though Mrs Bantem wasn't a bit like my mother, she brought
up the homely thoughts. Mrs Bantem was, I should say, about the
biggest and ugliest woman I ever saw in my life. She stood five feet
eleven and a half in her stockings, for Joe Bantem got Sergeant Buller
to take her under the standard one day. She'd got a face nearly as dark
as a black's; she'd got a moustache, and a good one too; and a great
coarse look about her altogether. Measles--I'll tell you who he was
directly--Measles used to say she was a horse godmother; and they didn't
seem to like one another; but Joe Bantem was as proud of that woman as
she was of him; and if any one hinted about her looks, he used to laugh,
and say that was only the outside rind, and talk about the juice. But
all the same, though, no one couldn't be long with that woman without
knowing her flavour. It was a sight to see her and Joe together, for he
was just a nice middle size--five feet seven and a half--and as pretty a
pink-and-white, brown-whiskered, open-faced man as ever you saw. We all
got tanned and coppered over and over again, but Joe kept as nice and
fresh and fair as on the day we embarked from Gosport years before; and
the standing joke was that Mrs Bantem had a preparation for keeping his
complexion all square.
Joe Bantem knew what he was about, though, for one day when a nasty
remark had been made by the men of another regiment, he got talking to
me in confidence over our pipes, and he swore that there wasn't a better
woman living; and he was right, for I'm ready now at this present moment
to take the Book in my hand, and swear the same thing before all the
judges in Old England. For you see, we're such duffers, we men: show us
a pretty bit of pink-and-white, and we run mad after it; while all the
time we're running away from no end of what's solid and good and true,
and such as'll wear well, and show fast colours, long after your
pink-and-white's got faded and grimy. Not as I've much room to talk.
But present company you know, and setra. What, though, as a rule, does
your pretty pink-and-white know about buttons, or darning, or cooking?
Why, we had the very best of cooking; not boiled tag and rag, but nice
stews and roasts and hashes, when other men were growling over a
dog's-meat dinner. We had the sweetest of clean shirts, and never a
button off; our stockings were darned; and only let one of us--Measles,
say--take a drop more than he ought, just see how Mrs Bantem would drop
on to him, that's all. If his head didn't ache before, it would ache
then; and I can see as plain now as if it was only this minute, instead
of years ago, her boxing Measles' ears, and threatening to turn him out
to another mess if he didn't keep sober. And she would have turned him
over too, only, as she said to Joe, and Joe told me, it might have been
the poor fellow's ruin, seeing how weak he was, and easily led away.
The long and short of it is, Mrs Bantem was a good motherly woman of
forty; and those who had anything to say against her, said it out of
jealousy, and all I have to say now is what I've said before: she only
had one fault, and that is, she never had any little Bantems to make
wives for honest soldiers to come; and wherever she is, my wish is that
she may live happy and venerable to a hundred.
That brings me to Measles. Bigley his name was; but he'd had the
small-pox very bad when a child, through not being vaccinated; and his
face was all picked out in holes, so round and smooth that you might
have stood peas in them all over his cheeks and forehead, and they
wouldn't have fallen off; so we called him Measles. If any of you pay
"Why?" I don't know no more than I have said.
He was a sour-tempered sort of fellow was Measles, who 'listed because
his sweetheart laughed at him; not that he cared for her, but he didn't
like to be laughed at, so he 'listed out of spite, as he said, and that
made him spiteful. He was always grumbling about not getting his
promotion, and sneering at everything and everybody, and quarrelling
with Harry Lant, him, you know, as carried the elephant's trunk; while
Harry was never happy without he was teasing him, so that sometimes
there was a deal of hot water spilled in our mess.
And now I think I've only got to name three of the drum-boys, that Mrs
Bantem ruled like a rod of iron, though all for their good, and then
I've done.
Well, we had our breakfast, and thoroughly enjoyed it, sitting out there
in the shade. Measles grumbled about the water, just because it
happened to be better than usual; for sometimes we soldiers out there in
India used to drink water that was terrible lively before it had been
cooked in the kettle; for though water-insects out there can stand a
deal of heat, they couldn't stand a fire. Mrs Bantem was washing up
the things afterwards, and talking about dinner; Harry Lant was picking
up all the odds and ends to carry off to the great elephant, standing
just then in the best bit of shade he could find, flapping his great
ears about, blinking his little pig's eyes, and turning his trunk and
his tail into two pendulums, swinging them backwards and forwards as
regular as clockwork, and all the time watching Harry, when Measles says
all at once: "Here come some lunatics!"
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