When the Mayor of Southampton opened the official document empowering
and requesting him to obtain recruits for the queen's service he was not
greatly pleased. This sort of thing would give a good deal of trouble,
and would assuredly not add to his popularity. He saw at once that he
would be able to oblige many of his friends by getting rid of people
troublesome to them, but with this exception where was he to find the
recruits the queen required? There were, of course, a few never do wells
in the town who could be packed off, to the general satisfaction of
the inhabitants, but beyond this every one taken would have friends and
relations who would cry out and protest.
It was likely to be a troublesome business, and the mayor threw down the
paper on the table before him. Then suddenly his expression changed.
He had been thinking of obliging his friends by sending off persons
troublesome to them, but he had not thought of his own case. Here was
the very thing; he would send off this troublesome lad to fight for the
queen; and whether he went to the Low Countries under Marlborough, or
to Spain with this new expedition which was being prepared, it was very
unlikely that he would ever return to trouble him.
He was only sixteen, indeed, but he was strong and well grown, and much
fitter for service than many of those who would be sent. If the
young fellow stopped here he would always be a trouble, and a bone of
contention between himself and his wife. Besides, for Alice's sake,
it was clearly his duty to get the fellow out of the way. Girls, Mr.
Anthony considered, were always falling in love with the very last
people in the world with whom they should do so, and out of sheer
contrariety it was more than possible that Alice might take a fancy for
this penniless vagabond, and if she did Mrs. Anthony was fool enough to
support her in her folly.
Of course there would be trouble with his wife when she found what had
happened to the lad--for the mayor did not deceive himself for a moment
by the thought that he would be able to conceal from his wife the cause
of Jack's absence; he was too well aware of Mrs. Anthony's power of
investigation. Still, after it was done it could not be undone, and
it was better to have one domestic storm than a continuation of foul
weather.
Calling in his clerk the mayor read over to him the order he had
received, and bade him turn to the court book and make out a list of the
names of forty young men who had been charged before him with offenses
of drunkenness, assault, battery and rioting.
“When you have made up the list, Johnson, you will go round to the
aldermen and inform them of the order that I have received from the
government, and you can tell them that if there are any persons they
know of whom they consider that Southampton would be well rid, if they
will send the names to me I will add them to the list. Bid them not to
choose married men, if it can be avoided, for the town would be burdened
with the support of their wives and families. Another ten names will do.
The letter which accompanies the order says that from my well known zeal
and loyalty it is doubted not that Southampton will furnish a hundred
men, but if I begin with fifty that will be well enough, and we can pick
out the others at our leisure.”
By the afternoon the list was filled up. One of the aldermen had
inserted the name of a troublesome nephew, another that of a foreman
with whom he had had a dispute about wages, and who had threatened to
proceed against him in the court. Some of the names were inserted from
mere petty spite; but with scarce an exception the aldermen responded to
the invitation of the mayor, and placed on the list the name of some one
whom they, or Southampton, would be the better without.
When the list was completed the mayor struck out one of the first names
inserted by his clerk and inserted that of John Stilwell in its place.
His instructions were that he was to notify to an officer, who would
arrive with a company of soldiers on the following day, the names of
those whom he deemed suitable for the queen's service. The officer after
taking them was to embark them on board one of the queen's cutters,
which would come round from Portsmouth for the purpose, and would convey
them to Dover, where a camp was being formed and the troops assembling.
Upon the following day the company marched into the town, and the
officer in command, having seen his men billeted among the citizens,
called upon the mayor.
“Well, Mr. Mayor,” he said, “I hope you have a good list of recruits
for me. I don't want to be waiting here, for I have to go on a similar
errand to other towns. It is not a job I like, I can tell you, but it is
not for me to question orders.”
“I have a list of fifty men, all active and hearty fellows, who will
make good soldiers,” the mayor said.
“And of whom, no doubt, Southampton will be well rid,” the officer said
with a laugh. “Truly, I pity the Earl of Peterborough, for he will
have as rough a body of soldiers as ever marched to war. However, it is
usually the case that the sort of men who give trouble at home are just
those who, when the time comes, make the best fighters. I would rather
have half a dozen of your reckless blades, when the pinch comes, than a
score of honest plowboys. How do you propose that I shall take them?”
“That I will leave entirely to you,” the mayor said; “here is a list
of the houses where they lodge. I will place the town watch at your
disposal to show you the way and to point out the men to you.”
“That will be all I shall require,” the officer said; “but you can give
me a list of those who are most likely to give trouble. These I will
pounce upon and get on board ship first of all. When they are secured
I will tell my men off in parties, each with one of your constables to
point out the men, and we will pick them up so many every evening. It
is better not to break into houses and seize them; for, although we
are acting legally and under the authority of act of parliament, it is
always as well to avoid giving cause of complaint, which might tend to
excite a feeling against the war and make the government unpopular, and
which, moreover, might do you harm with the good citizens, and do me
harm with those above me. I am sure you agree with me.”
“Quite so, quite so,” the mayor said hastily; “you speak very prudently
and well, sir. I hope you will honor me by taking up your abode in my
house during your stay here; but may I ask you not to allow my wife,
who is inquisitive by nature, to see the list with which I furnish you?
Women are ever meddling in matters which concern them not.”
“I understand,” the officer said with a wink, “there are names on the
list of which your wife would not approve. I have known the same thing
happen before. But never fear, the list shall be kept safe; and, indeed,
it were better that nothing were said of my business in the town, for if
this get abroad, some of those whose conscience may tell them that they
will be likely to be chosen for service might very well slip off and be
out of the way until they hear that I and my men have left.”
Two days later, when, as the evening was falling, Jack Stilwell was
walking up from the wharf, where he had been watching the unlading of
the vessel in which he was to sail, he came upon a group of four or five
soldiers standing at a corner. Then a voice, which he recognized as that
of the foreman, Richard Carson, said:
“That is your man, officer;” and the soldiers made a sudden rush upon
him.
Taken by surprise he nevertheless struggled desperately, but a heavy
blow with a staff fell on the back of his head, and for a time he knew
nothing more. When he recovered his consciousness he was lying almost in
complete darkness, but by the faint gleam of the lantern he discovered
that he was in the hold of a ship. Several other men were sitting or
laying near him. Some of them were cursing and swearing, others were
stanching the blood which flowed from various cuts and gashes.
“What does all this mean?” he asked as he somewhat recovered himself.
“It means,” said one, “that we are pressed to serve as soldiers. I made
a fight for it, and just as they had got the handcuffs on some citizens
came up and asked what was doing, and the sergeant said, 'It is quite
legal. We hold the mayor's warrant to impress this man for service in
the army; there is a constable here who will tell you we are acting on
authority, and if any interfere it will be worse for them.'”
Jack heard the news in silence. So, he had been pressed by a warrant of
the mayor, he was the victim of the spite of his late employer. But his
thoughts soon turned from this by the consciousness that his shirt and
clothes were soaked with blood, and putting his hand to the back of
his head he found a great lump from which the blood was still slowly
flowing. Taking off his neck handkerchief he bound it round his head
and then lay down again. He tried to think, but his brain was weak and
confused, and he presently fell into a sound sleep, from which he was
not aroused by the arrival of another batch of prisoners.
It was morning when he awoke, and he found that he had now nearly
twenty companions in captivity. Some were walking up and down like caged
animals, others were loudly bewailing their fate, some sat moody and
silent, while some bawled out threats of vengeance against those they
considered responsible for their captivity. A sentry with a shouldered
musket was standing at the foot of the steps, and from time to time some
sailors passed up and down. Jack went up to one of these.
“Mate,” he said, “could you let us have a few buckets of water down
here? In the first place we are parched with thirst, and in the second
we may as well try to get off some of the blood which, from a good many
of us, has been let out pretty freely.”
“Well, you seem a reasonable sort of chap,” the sailor said, “and to
take things coolly. That's the way, my lad; when the king, or the queen
now--it's all the same thing--has once got his hand on you it's of no
use kicking against it. I have been pressed twice myself, so I know how
you feel. Here, mates,” he said to two of the other sailors, “lend a
hand and get a bucket of fresh water and a pannikin, and half a dozen
buckets of salt water, and let these lads have a drink and a wash.”
It was soon done. The prisoners were all glad of the drink, but few
cared to trouble about washing. Jack, however, took possession of a
bucket, stripped to the waist, and had a good wash. The salt water made
his wound smart, but he continued for half an hour bathing it, and at
the end of that time felt vastly fresher and better. Then he soaked his
shirt in the water, and as far as possible removed the broad stains of
blood which stiffened it. Then he wrung it out and hung it up to dry,
and, putting on his coat, sat down and thought matters over.
He had never had the idea of entering the army, for the measures taken
to fill the ranks rendered the military service distasteful in the
extreme to the English people. Since the days of Agincourt the English
army had never gained any brilliant successes abroad, and there was
consequently none of that national pride which now exists in its bravery
and glorious history.
Still, Jack reflected, it did not make much difference to him whether he
became a soldier or a sailor. He had longed to see the world, to
share in deeds of adventure, and, above all, to escape from the dreary
drudgery of the clothier's shop. These objects would be attained as well
in the army as in the navy; and, indeed, now that he thought of it, he
preferred the active service which he would see under Marlborough or
Peterborough to the monotony of a long sea voyage. At any rate, it was
clear that remonstrance or resistance were vain. He as well as others
were aware of the law which had just been passed, giving magistrates the
power of impressing soldiers for the service, and he felt, therefore,
that although his impressment had no doubt been dictated by the private
desire of the mayor to get him out of the way, it was yet strictly
legal, and that it would be useless his making any protest against it.
He resolved, therefore, to make the best of things, and to endeavor to
win the goodwill of his officers by prompt and cheerful acquiescence in
the inevitable.
Presently some sailors brought down a tray with a number of hunks of
black bread, a large pot filled with a sort of broth, and a score of
earthenware mugs. Jack at once dipped one of the mugs into the pot, and,
taking a hunk of bread, sat down to his breakfast. A few others followed
his example, but most of them were too angry or too dispirited to care
about eating; and, indeed, it seemed to them that their refusal to
partake of the meal was a sort of protest against their captivity.
Half an hour afterward the sailors removed the food; and many of those
who had refused to touch it soon regretted bitterly that they had not
done so, for as the time went on hunger began to make itself felt. It
was evening before the next meal, consisting of black bread and a
great piece of salt beef, was brought down. This time there were no
abstentions. As the evening wore on fresh batches of prisoners were
brought in, until, by midnight, the number was raised to fifty. Many of
them had been seriously knocked about in their capture, and Jack, who
had persuaded his friend the sailor to bring down three or four more
buckets of salt water, did his best, by bathing and bandaging their
wounds, to put them at their ease.
In the morning he could see who were his companions in misfortune. Many
of them he knew by sight as loafers on the wharves and as troublesome or
riotous characters. Three or four were men of different type. There were
two or three respectable mechanics--men who had had, at various times,
drawn upon them the dislikes of the great men of the town by insisting
on their rights; and there were two idle young fellows of a higher
class, who had vexed their friends beyond endurance.
Presently the officer in charge of the recruiting party, who had now
come on board, came down into the hold. He was at once assailed with a
storm of curses and angry remonstrances.
“Look here, my lads,” he said, raising his hand for silence, “it is of
no use your going on like this, and I warn you that the sooner you make
up your minds that you have got to serve her majesty the better for
you, because that you have got to do it is certain. You have all been
impressed according to act of parliament, and there is no getting out
of it. It's your own fault that you got those hard knocks that I see the
marks of, and you will get more if you give any more trouble. Now, those
who choose to agree at once to serve her majesty can come on deck.”
Jack at once stepped forward.
“I am ready to serve, sir,” he said.
“That's right,” the officer replied heartily; “you are a lad of spirit,
I can see, and will make a good soldier. You look young yet, but that's
all in your favor; you will be a sergeant at an age when others are
learning their recruit drill. Now, who's the next?”
Some half dozen of the others followed Jack's example, but the rest were
still too sore and angry to be willing to do anything voluntarily.
Jack leaped lightly up on deck and looked round; the cutter was already
under weigh, and with a gentle breeze was running along the smooth
surface of Southampton waters; the ivy covered ruins of Netley Abbey
were abreast of them, and behind was the shipping of the port.
“Well, young un,” an old sergeant said, “so I suppose you have agreed to
serve the queen?”
“As her majesty was so pressing,” Jack replied with a smile, “you see I
had no choice in the matter.”
“That's right,” the sergeant said kindly; “always keep up your spirits,
lad. Care killed a cat, you know. You are one of the right sort, I can
see, but you are young to be pressed. How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” Jack replied.
“Then they had no right to take you,” the sergeant said; “seventeen's
the earliest age, and as a rule soldiers ain't much good till they are
past twenty. You would have a right to get off if you could prove your
age; but of course you could not do that without witnesses or papers,
and it's an old game for recruits who look young to try to pass as under
age.”
“I shan't try,” Jack answered; “I have made up my mind to it now, and
there's an end to it. But why ain't soldiers any good till they are past
twenty, sergeant? As far as I can see, boys are just as brave as men.”
“Just as brave, my lad, and when it comes to fighting the young soldier
is very often every bit as good as the old one; but they can't stand
fatigue and hardship like old soldiers. A boy will start out on as long
a walk as a man can take, but he can't keep it up day after day. When it
comes to long marches, to sleeping on the ground in the wet, bad food,
and fever from the marshes, the young soldier breaks down, the hospital
gets full of boys, and they just die off like flies, while the older men
pull through.”
“You are a Job's comforter, I must say,” Jack said with a laugh; “but
I must hope that I shan't have long marches, and bad food, and damp
weather, and marsh fever till I get a bit older.”
“I don't want to discourage you,” the sergeant remarked, “and you know
there are young soldiers and young soldiers. There are the weedy, narrow
chested chaps as seems to be made special for filling a grave; and there
is the sturdy, hardy young chap, whose good health and good spirits
carries him through. That's your sort, I reckon. Good spirits is the
best medicine in the world; it's worth all the doctors and apothecaries
in the army. But how did you come to be pressed? it's generally the
ne'er do well and idle who get picked out as food for powder. That
doesn't look your sort, or I'm mistaken.”
“I hope not,” Jack said. “I am here because I am a sort of cousin of the
Mayor of Southampton. He wanted me to serve in his shop. I stood it for
a time, but I hated it, and at last I had a row with his foreman and
knocked him down, so I was kicked out into the streets; and I suppose
he didn't like seeing me about, and so took this means of getting rid
of me. He needn't have been in such a hurry, for if he had waited a few
days I should have gone, for I had shipped as a boy on board of a ship
about to sail for the colonies.”
“In that case, my lad, you have no reason for ill will against this
precious relation of yours, for he has done you a good turn while
meaning to do you a bad un. The life of a boy on board a ship isn't one
to be envied, I can tell you; he is at every one's beck and call, and
gets more kicks than halfpence. Besides, what comes of it? You get to be
a sailor, and, as far as I can see, the life of a sailor is the life
of a dog. Look at the place where he sleeps--why, it ain't as good as
a decent kennel. Look at his food--salt meat as hard as a stone, and
rotten biscuit that a decent dog would turn up his nose at; his time
is never his own--wet or dry, storm or calm, he's got to work when he's
told. And what's he got to look forward to? A spree on shore when his
voyage is done, and then to work again. Why, my lad, a soldier's life is
a gentleman's life in comparison. Once you have learned your drill and
know your duty you have an easy time of it. Most of your time's your
own. When you are on a campaign you eat, drink, and are jolly at other
folks' expense; and if you do get wet when you are on duty, you can
generally manage to turn in dry when you are relieved. It's not a bad
life, my boy, I can tell you; and if you do your duty well, and you
are steady, and civil, and smart, you are sure to get your stripes,
especially if you can read and write, as I suppose you can.”
Jack nodded with a half smile.
“In that case,” the sergeant said, “you may even in time get to be an
officer. I can't read nor write--not one in twenty can--but those as
can, of course, has a better chance of promotion if they distinguish
themselves. I should have got it last year in the Low Country, and
Marlborough himself said, 'Well done!' when I, with ten rank and file,
held a bridge across a canal for half an hour against a company of
French. He sent for me after it was over, but when he found I couldn't
read or write he couldn't promote me; but he gave me a purse of twenty
guineas, and I don't know but what that suited me better, for I am
a deal more comfortable as a sergeant than I should have been as an
officer; but you see, if you had been in my place up you would have
gone.”
The wind fell in the afternoon, and the cutter dropped her anchor as the
tide was running against her. At night Jack Stilwell and the others
who had accepted their fate slept with the troops on board instead of
returning to rejoin their companions in the hold. Jack was extremely
glad of the change, as there was air and ventilation, whereas in the
hold the atmosphere had been close and oppressive. He was the more glad
next morning when he found that the wind, which had sprung up soon after
midnight, was freshening fast, and was, as one of the sailors said,
likely to blow hard before long. The cutter was already beginning to
feel the effect of the rising sea, and toward the afternoon was pitching
in a lively way and taking the sea over her bows.
“You seem to enjoy it, young un,” the sergeant said as Jack, holding
on by a shroud, was facing the wind regardless of the showers of spray
which flew over him. “Half our company are down with seasickness, and as
for those chaps down in the fore hold they must be having a bad time of
it, for I can hear them groaning and cursing through the bulkhead. The
hatchway has been battened down for the last three hours.”
“I enjoy it,” Jack said; “whenever I got a holiday at Southampton I used
to go out sailing. I knew most of the fishermen there; they were always
ready to take me with them as an extra hand. When do you think we shall
get to Dover?”
“She is walking along fast,” the sergeant said; “we shall be there
tomorrow morning. We might be there before, but the sailors say that the
skipper is not likely to run in before daylight, and before it gets dark
he will shorten sail so as not to get there before.”
The wind increased until it was blowing a gale; but the cutter was a
good sea boat, and being in light trim made good weather of it. However,
even Jack was pleased when he felt a sudden change in the motion of the
vessel, and knew that she was running into Dover harbor.
Morning was just breaking, and the hatchways being removed the sergeant
shouted down to the pressed men that they could come on deck. It was a
miserable body of men who crawled up in answer to the summons, utterly
worn out and exhausted with the seasickness, the closeness of the air,
and the tossing and buffeting of the last eighteen hours; many had
scarce strength to climb the ladder.
All the spirit and indignation had been knocked out of them--they were
too miserable and dejected to utter a complaint. The sergeant ordered
his men to draw up some buckets of water, and told the recruits to wash
themselves and make themselves as decent as they could, and the order
was sharply enforced by the captain when he came on deck.
“I would not march through the streets of Dover with such a filthy, hang
dog crew,” he said; “why, the very boys would throw mud at you. Come, do
what you can to make yourselves clean, or I will have buckets of water
thrown over you. I would rather take you on shore drenched to the skin
than in that state. You have brought it entirely on yourselves by your
obstinacy. Had you enlisted at once without further trouble you would
not have suffered as you have.”
The fresh air and cold water soon revived even the most exhausted of
the new recruits, and as soon as all had been made as presentable as
circumstances would admit of, the order was given to land. The party
were formed on the quay, four abreast, the soldiers forming the outside
line, and so they marched through Dover, where but yet a few people
were up and stirring, to the camp formed just outside the walls of the
castle. The colonel of the regiment met them as they marched in.
“Well, Captain Lowther, you have had a rough time of it, I reckon. I
thought the whole camp was going to be blown away last night. These are
the recruits from Southampton, I suppose?”
“Yes, colonel, what there is left of them; they certainly had a baddish
twelve hours of it.”
“Form them in line,” the colonel said, “and let me have a look at them.
They are all ready and willing to serve her majesty, I hope,” he added
with a grim smile.
“They are all ready, no doubt,” Captain Lowther replied; “as to their
willingness I can't say so much. Some half dozen or so agreed at once to
join without giving any trouble, foremost among them that lad at the end
of the line, who, Sergeant Edwards tells me, is a fine young fellow and
likely to do credit to the regiment; the rest chose to be sulky, and
have suffered for it by being kept below during the voyage. However, I
think all their nonsense is knocked out of them now.”
The colonel walked along the line and examined the men.
“A sturdy set of fellows,” he said to the captain, “when they have got
over their buffeting. Now, my lads,” he went on, addressing the men,
“you have all been pressed to serve her majesty in accordance with act
of parliament, and though some of you may not like it just at present,
you will soon get over that and take to it kindly enough. I warn you
that the discipline will be strict. In a newly raised regiment like this
it is necessary to keep a tight hand, but if you behave yourselves and
do your duty you will not find the life a hard one.
“Remember, it's no use any of you thinking of deserting; we have got
your names and addresses, so you couldn't go home if you did; and you
would soon be brought back wherever you went, and you know pretty well
what's the punishment for desertion without my telling you. That will
do.”
No one raised a voice in reply--each man felt that his position was
hopeless, for, as the colonel said, they had been legally impressed.
They were first taken before the adjutant, who rapidly swore them in,
and they were then set to work, assisted by some more soldiers, in
pitching tents. Clothes were soon served out to them and the work of
drill commenced at once.
Each day brought fresh additions to the force, and in a fortnight its
strength was complete. Jack did not object to the hard drill which they
had to go through, and which occupied them from morning till night, for
the colonel knew that on any day the regiment might receive orders to
embark, and he wanted to get it in something like shape before setting
sail. Jack did, however, shrink from the company in which he found
himself. With a few exceptions the regiment was made up of wild and
worthless fellows, of whom the various magistrates had been only too
glad to clear their towns, and mingled with these were the sweepings of
the jails, rogues and ruffians of every description. The regiment
might eventually be welded into a body of good soldiers, but at present
discipline had not done its work, and it was simply a collection of
reckless men, thieves, and vagabonds.