THE VIDETTE.
To a young soldier few duties or situations are more trying than the
post of advanced sentinel by night, in a strange place and foreign
country, in time of war and danger--all the more so, perhaps, if the
said soldier be a Scotsman, imbued with some of those superstitions,
which few of his countrymen are without.
"Keep your ears and eyes open, young man," said Captain Brook as he
left me. "Remember that you are not now a sentry at the gate of a
home-barrack, which no one thinks of attacking, but that you are an
advanced vidette, on whose vigilance and acuteness depend the safety
of the picket, the honour of the army, and hence, perhaps, of the
nation itself."
"Does he deem me stupid, or what?" thought I, with some pique, as he
rode off, accompanied by Sergeant Duff of ours, and I was left
alone--alone to my own reflections.
The moon which shone so brightly last night was now hidden by masses
of cloud, yet a few stray beams lighted the landscape at a distance.
In the immediate foreground, and around me, all was sunk in darkness
and obscurity; but after my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I
could make out the form of the two rugged eminences or hills which
overhung my post, and the pathway that wound from thence into the
defile between them.
Beyond that defile I could see the distant country, lighted at times,
as I have said, by the fitful gleams of the moon.
All was still and I heard only the champing of my horse upon his
powerful military bit, as I sat with the butt of my carbine planted
on my right thigh, gazing steadily at the darkened pass in my front.
The time passed slowly.
Twice I threw the reins across my left arm, and twice cocked and
levelled my carbine, for on each occasion figures seemed to enter the
pass, some on horseback and others on foot; but the next moment
showed them to be only fashioned by my overheated fancy, out of the
long weeds and nettles that waved to and fro on the night wind
between me and the faint moonlight beyond.
On each of these occasions I made a narrow escape; to have fired my
carbine would have drawn the whole line of pickets to the front, and
brought the entire army under arms; but then to give a _false_ alarm
is a crime to be punished, though not quite so severely as to omit an
alarm when necessary; so my position was sufficiently perplexing.
Silence, night, and loneliness induced reverie, and from the present
and from the future, memory carried me back to the past--that period
which possessed so little that was bright for me.
But a few months before, how little could I have imagined, or
anticipated, that I should become a soldier and be situated as I was
then--a lonely sentinel amid the mountains of Brittany! I thought
with some growing repugnance of war, its cruelties and stern
necessities--the precipitate execution of the two unfortunate spies,
and the mangled corpses of the slain seamen, whom I had seen flung
like lumber from the lower deck ports of the _Success_, after she
engaged the battery in the Bay of Cancalle, and a shudder came over
me, for I was young to such work as this.
I thought of the green mountains of my native land--that lovely
Borderland, and its chain of hills that rise from sea to sea, between
the sister kingdoms, with their fertile glens where herd and hirsel
grazed in peace; where the brown eagle had his eyry in the grey
rocks, and the black raven soared high in mid-air or came swooping
down when the silvery salmon, or the spotted trout leaped up from the
plashing linn--the land where every cairn and wood, tower and tree,
had some wild or warlike legend of the past.
Old Netherwood, too, with the lazy rooks that cawed among its oaks,
or roosted on the creaking vanes of its time-worn turrets. Then I
turned away my thoughts in anger to the secluded Border village,
where I had been so long a drudge, yea a very slave; but with the
memory of old Nathan's inky desk, came a pleasant vision of the
pretty little Ruth--Ruth whom I had well-nigh forgotten.
Was Ruth unmarried still? Did she ever think of me? I could almost
laugh at my first love already, for to this heresy will the mind come
at times, and in barracks I had reached it already.
And then Aurora--my gay and dashing cousin Aurora--the fair usurper
of all that was mine, did she ever think of me, and our race on
Banstead Downs? And so, soaring away into the realms of fancy, I
forgot all about the pass in my front and the picket in my rear, till
the sudden and confused explosion of some twenty carbines about a
hundred yards distant, on my right, all flashing redly through the
darkness, gave me a start, a shock, as if struck by lightning; and
before I had time to think or act, there came the rush of many hoofs,
and then a party of French Hussars, all fleetly mounted, swept past
me from the rear, and fled towards the pass, pursued by our picket,
which was led by Captain Brook in person! My horse reared wildly as
they all passed me, and for about ten minutes I remained irresolute
and ignorant what to do, until the captain with the main body of the
picket all safe and untouched, but breathless and highly excited,
came back at a hand gallop.
Now, for the first time I discovered that during my luckless reverie
a party of French light horse, commanded, it afterwards appeared, by
the Chevalier de Boisguiller, an officer of dashing bravery, had
crept past me at the distance of fifty yards or so, and unmolested
and unchallenged, had actually ridden so close to Brook's picket,
that they were first discovered by their sabres glittering in the
light of the watchfire, near which the captain was seated.
Brook's face was crimson, and his voice hoarse with rage and passion
when he accosted me, and in a minute more I found myself dismounted,
disarmed, and standing a prisoner before him, a dragoon being on each
side of me with his carbine loaded.
The captain was a handsome and soldierlike man, somewhere about
forty-five years of age, and the blue uniform of the 11th Light
Dragoons, faced and lapelled with buff to the waist, and richly laced
with gold, became him well. His features, though naturally of a
grave and mild cast, were now stern, and his eyes sparkled with
anger. I could see all this by the light of a torch, held by one of
the 11th, and I could perceive also that my comrades of the Greys
regarded me with aught but pleasant faces, as I had involved the
honour of the corps by my negligence.
"So--so--s'death, you are a fine fellow to act as a vidette!" began
the captain, with scorn and wrath in his tone; "thanks to you, we
have had an alert with a vengeance! You are now aware, that while
asleep you have permitted a body of the enemy's cavalry to pass your
post--a body which, if strong enough, would have cut this picket to
pieces."
"Under favour, sir, I was not asleep," said I, firmly.
"Zounds, sirrah, it matters little! But do you know what the
'Articles of War' say concerning conduct such as yours?"
I was silent.
"Shall I tell you?" asked the captain, earnestly, and in a lower tone.
"If you please."
"They state that any officer or soldier who shall shamefully abandon
any fortress, _post or guard_, committed to his charge, or who shall
be found sleeping on his post, whether upon the land or the sea,
shall suffer DEATH, or such other punishment as a court martial may
award."
I was so completely stunned by all this as to be incapable of speech;
but Duff of ours, a kind and grey-haired old sergeant, said--
"Captain Brook, the lad is a good lad, and a steady one; we have few
better in the Greys--"
"Then I am very sorry for the Greys!"
"I do hope, sir," continued the sergeant, "that his life, at least,
may not be forfeited?"
"My life!" I exclaimed, mechanically.
"Yes, that may be forfeited, and I disgraced!" said Captain Brook,
bitterly. "I have commanded many a post, but never one that was
surprised before. To-morrow I shall hand you over to the guard of
the provost marshal. What is your name, fellow?"
"Basil Gauntlet."
On hearing this, he started and became so visibly affected, that the
soldiers of the picket who crowded round us holding their horses by
the bridle, glanced at each other with inquiry and surprise. Brook
surveyed me keenly for a moment, and then a sorrowful frown seemed to
deepen on his features.
"Was your father ever in the service?" he asked, abruptly.
"He was an officer of Granby's Dragoons."
Then a malignant light sparkled in the eyes of Captain Brook, and he
struck his spurred heel into the turf.
"Was my father your friend?" I asked, with hesitation.
"Friend!" he reiterated, bitterly; "no--no--not my friend. But your
mother, what of her?" he added, in an altered voice.
"She is in her grave," I replied, with faltering accent; "else,
perhaps, I had not stood before you thus to-night, a private soldier
and a prisoner."
After a pause--
"My God!" said Brook, in a low voice, as he took off his helmet and
passed a hand across his flushed brow. Then seeming to recollect
himself, he said, "Fall back, sergeant; and fall back, men--picket
your horses, and lie down if you please till daybreak, when the
outpickets are called in. Leave the prisoner with me. Gauntlet," he
continued, after we were somewhat alone, "step with me this way. I
shall do all in my power to serve you, and to be your friend."
"Sir, you astonish me," I exclaimed; "how am I so fortunate?"
"I will tell you a secret, boy--a secret long buried in my heart," he
continued, in a voice that grew soft and kind; "your father and I
were rivals--rivals for the love of the same girl, long, long years
ago; but he was the successful wooer--I the discarded one! She was
your mother, boy, and now, for her sacred memory, and the memory,
too, of that early love, which brightened for a time the first days
of my soldiering, I will save you, my poor lad, if I can. Nay more,
I have some interest at head-quarters, and will serve you as if you
had been my own son, and this will I do for _her_ sake."
The voice of Captain Brook trembled, and I bowed low, for I could not
speak.
"You know what the rules of the service prescribe," he resumed, "in
such a case as yours?"
"You have already told me, sir."
"Death!"
"Yes."
"Yet, you shall not die, and your future promotion shall be my
peculiar care. Comrades," cried he, to the men of the picket, "in
Basil Gauntlet I have discovered the son of an early and dear friend.
He is but a young soldier--a mere boy, and I would save him if I can."
"You may command us, sir," said Sergeant Duff.
"We will do anything for you, Captain Brook," added the men of the
11th, with enthusiasm.
"I do not mean to report his dereliction of duty--so give me your
words that you will be silent in the matter."
"We swear it, sir!" they exclaimed, with energy, and that honest
pledge was never broken.
"Now, Basil Gauntlet," said Captain Brook, as he gave me back my
sword, and grasped my hand, while speaking rapidly and energetically;
"you, doubtless, have your father's courage and spirit of honour.
These are hereditary, and old Sir Basil could not _will them away_ as
he did the acres of Netherwood, the family pictures, and the silver
spoons. Be a man, and a brave one, as your father was--I knew him
well and hated him--God rest him now, for all that. To-morrow, I
shall see that you are taken out of the ranks; for, to-night, I can
but share with you the contents of my canteen."
An aide-de-camp now came galloping from Cancalle to inquire the
meaning of the firing. Some explanation, I know not what, was made,
and so ended this remarkable episode, which had a gloomy sequel on
the morrow, when all the bright future, which the sudden friendship
of Captain Brook had opened to me, was rapidly overcast.
About noon the poor man was killed by a shot from a French
sharpshooter, as we were advancing through a thick wood. Dr.
Lancelot Probe of ours was speedily at hand, but my new friend was
gone for ever, and I was one of those who assisted to wrap his
remains in a horse rug, and to inter them by the wayside, as we
marched towards St. Malo.