HUBERT WOUNDED.
On comes the foe--to arms, to aims,
We meet--'tis to death or glory;
'Tis victory in all her charms,
Or fame in Britain's story.--W. SMYTH.
Three more years passed away: it had been a trying time, for a native
tribe near a neighbouring jungle gave Hubert's regiment continual
trouble; and now orders were received at the barracks to prepare for a
battle, for large numbers of Hindoos were coming down from the hills,
and several British regiments were on the march to assist the station
that was menaced.
Hubert received the order, and gave it out again to his company, and
then, without another word went to his rooms. It was not his usual way:
he generally said something in praise of British bravery, and tried to
inspire his men to action; but this time he was silent, and the soldiers
did not let it pass without remark.
Never before had the order for battle been less welcome, and he was
unable to account for the strange depression of his spirits; he joined
none of his companions, but sat the whole evening by himself, and
retired to rest much earlier than usual. His sleep, however, was
disturbed, and once, in the still hour of night, he said aloud, "What
ails me, that I cannot sleep? I am not ill: I wonder if anything is to
happen to me--surely not; after nearly twenty-two years' service, I am
to have better luck than be knocked off now; it is a pretty safe thing,
they say, if one gets over the twentieth year. I shall see Old England
yet." No more sleep, however, came to him; he thought of his home, his
parents, and all to whom he had been dear, and he sighed deeply as he
wished he had loved them better.
The morning sun had scarcely risen before the bugle sounded, and in a
very short time the regiment was on the march, for they had six miles to
go, and the heat would be against them later in the day.
On the previous evening, Hubert had passed some of the dull hours in
looking over the little relics he had collected during his residence in
India, and in filling up the box he had brought with him from England,
he took out the remains of his Bible; it was sadly destroyed; the
covers, some of the Old, and the greater part of the New Testament, were
what remained of it, and after hesitating for a few minutes what he
should do with it, he thrust it into a pocket in the left side of the
bosom of his coat. It was there still; he had forgotten to remove it
when he rose hastily at the sound of the bugle, and as he marched with
his regiment, he little thought of the blessing which that torn,
despised treasure would yet be to him. It was a long, toilsome march,
through thick jungle, and the soldiers sat down to rest when they got
through it, and waited to be joined by other forces. They had come out
against a considerable village, the residence of a great chief, but not
so well fortified by architectural defences as by the hordes of its
savage inhabitants. From the spot where the soldiers rested they could
see the place they had come to attack, and as the day was passing
without the other regiments appearing, a council was held, and beneath
the shadow of the palm trees the soldiers received orders to remain
quiet until new commands were issued.
The day at length was closing, and Hubert, with three brother officers,
sat down beneath a tree together. At first they talked of the glory in
fighting for their king and country, then other matters connected with
military life followed; but as the time passed away, and the hours of
night brought with them their fitful gloom, the conversation changed,
and for the first time for many years Hubert talked of his home.
"It is a long time since I left England," he said; "many, many a year;
and I have somehow neglected all my old friends there. I often wish I
had acted differently, and thought a little more about them, and written
to them sometimes; but it is no use regretting--not that I have much to
regret, though, for letter-writing is a silly, dawdling business at
best, and never was much in my way; but, however, should it so happen
to-morrow that the chances run against me--you know what I mean--well,
there's some one of the family left, perhaps, who will like to know the
end of me; so let me ask a favour. Take this slip of paper, and if your
luck is better than mine, just send a letter to that address, and tell
them where your old comrade fell, and tell them he--nay, tell them what
you like."
The three officers each took down Hubert's address, and promised to
perform his wish; but they too had friends and relations in Britain's
distant isle, and they each asked of Hubert a similar boon, should the
fortune of the day be his, not theirs; then, with a friendly grasp of
the hand, they exchanged promises; and to think, perhaps, more deeply of
the past, or the morrow, they bade each other good-night and lay down in
silence on the ground. Only for a few hours did anything like stillness
hover over the beleaguered village; at early dawn the natives, having
heard that the English were surrounding them, came out in great numbers,
to drive away or attack their invaders. A terrible fight now commenced,
wearing any form but that of a set battle, and it lasted the whole day;
but at length the chief was slain, and the Hindoos, upon hearing it,
fled in all directions, leaving the English masters of the village.
There had been a sad slaughter of the natives, and more than two
hundred of the English had fallen. Hubert's regiment had suffered
considerably; but he and his three companions were spared, and they met
again in the same place where they had passed the previous evening;
neither wound nor mark of warfare was upon any of them; they were only
fatigued, and, as they shook each other by the hand, they used some of
their old familiar terms of friendship, and sat down again beneath the
tree. There was no talk of home now, no thought of the gracious shield
which had preserved them in the fight, no word of thanksgiving to
Almighty God for their safety.
As night came on they proceeded to the captured village; but in the
morning, as all the soldiers were not required to remain, Hubert's
company, and one or two others, were ordered back to their respective
barracks. Several of Hubert's company were missing; familiar faces were
gone, and well-remembered voices were hushed; yet, with pride and high
spirits, most of those that remained, after having helped to bury some
of the dead, prepared to march as soon as the sun would permit. It was a
beautiful evening when the soldiers started, but they had not gone very
far before Hubert and some of the other officers fell a little behind
the men, and sat down upon the short dry grass and weeds. Just as they
were about to pursue their journey through the jungle, some beautiful
birds attracted their attention, and they turned aside from the pathway
in pursuit. This thoughtless act was attended with danger, for the
evening was fast closing, and there was every probability that they
would lose their way. At the suggestion of one, however, they turned
back, and made all possible haste to overtake the soldiers. Night came
on much more rapidly than they had expected, and before they had gone
far in the jungle it grew very dark. They pushed on as rapidly as they
could, but the path was unfamiliar to them, and they soon lost each
other. Sometimes a rustling amongst the bushes made Hubert start, and
once he thought he heard voices besides the scattered ones of his
companions. Very soon, however, all was silent; they were all wandering
different ways, and Hubert was alone. Once he thought of climbing into a
tree, and staying there till daybreak, but he felt so confident that he
could not have much further to go that he made another effort to reach
the barracks. Suddenly a rustling in the bush startled him again, and
laying his hand upon his sword he called out the watchword of his
regiment. There was no answer, and thinking it perhaps some bird, he
went on again, keeping up his courage by occasionally whistling. He had
almost reached the edge of the jungle, for he had fortunately kept near
the right path, when a wild shout fell upon his ear, a flash of light
illumined all around him, and Hubert, stunned and wounded, fell to the
ground.
The moon rose calmly in the sky, and her soft rays fell upon the trees
beneath which Hubert lay. He was still insensible, and the brown grass
around him was stained with blood. A slight breath of wind that passed
over him, gently waved the dark hair from his wounded forehead; another
ball had shattered his right leg, which had bent up beneath him as he
fell.
Not far away, in the barracks, the next morning the roll was called;
Hubert's companions had arrived safe during the night; they now told
where they had missed him, and a piquet of men was sent out to search
for him. They did not go far into the jungle before Hubert was found; he
had partly recovered from his faintness, but was too exhausted to speak:
they conveyed him to the hospital, where his wounds were dressed, and
every attention was paid him, but he had lost so much blood as he lay
all night upon the ground, that no hopes whatever were given of his
recovery, and he lay several days without speaking a word.
The doctor came day after day, as often as he could snatch a moment from
his duties, and sat down by Hubert's bed: he knew all about him, knew
the life he had led, and felt all the weight of the dread thought of a
soul passing into eternity unsaved. There he lay, that reckless, sinning
one, now helpless, dying, and many a heartfelt prayer was breathed by
the one friend that still clung to him, that he might not be taken away
in his sin. It is not kith nor kin that bounds the Christian's love;
like his Divine Master, he deems precious every human soul, and no
matter 'neath what sky or colour, whether friend or foe, he cannot see
that priceless thing perish without an effort to save it. Many a long
hour the doctor sat and watched by Hubert's bed: the leg had been set,
and appeared favourable, but reason did not return, and it was for that
he watched and prayed, and yet how that same reason had shunned and
insulted him. Good man, he forgot all about himself now, and watched as
a fond brother over the sufferer. His prayers were heard; Hubert awoke
from insensibility, and occasionally spoke a word to those who attended
him.