"Pension-_wallah_, _Huzoor_, unfit for duty," he replied with modest
brevity, indicating his empty sleeve.
The General caught at the occasion for even greater unction with a
complacency which could not be concealed.
"The Great Army is recruited from those who are unfit for duty, from
those who are sinners. Is it not so, comrades? Are we not all maimed,
halt, blind, yet entering into life?"
"Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" cried the company, bursting into the refrain
of a hymn, in which Sonny _baba_ joined with an angelic voice. The
voice, in fact, was largely responsible for the position in which he
found himself. The old swash-buckler's eyes grew moist as he looked at
him, thinking that he was the very image, for sure, of his dead father,
who had been the pride of the regiment. Nevertheless the effervescence
of song left the old man still deprecating and fumbling in his tunic.
"The General-_sahib_ mistakes; these are my _pinson_ papers."
That proved a climax. When, just as you are setting foot on a country
which you have sworn to conquer, an old warrior comes aboard and
produces a bundle of Scripture texts and Salvation hymns out of his
innermost breast pocket, naturally nothing is left but to _enthuse_.
What followed Dhurm Singh only dimly understood, but he stuck manfully
to his intention of following Sonny _baba_ to the death if needs be.
The result being that at four o'clock in the afternoon he took part in
a procession round the town of Bombay--mortal man of his mould being
manifestly unable to resist the temptation of marching in step behind a
big drum, with the colours of a whole army on his shoulders; especially
when unlimited opportunity for scowling defiance at hostile crowds is
thrown into the bargain. By eight o'clock, however, matters had assumed
a different complexion; so had Dhurm Singh, as he sat in the lock-up,
vastly contented with his black eye and an ugly cut on the nose, which
he explained gleefully to Sonny _baba_ put him in mind of old times.
The latter, through the medium of a fellow-passenger who knew Punjabi,
was meanwhile trying to make the old sinner understand that he had got
the whole army into trouble, and that personally he must stand his
trial for a breach of the peace.
"And tell him, please," said Sonny _baba_ with grieved diffidence,
"that we all think he must have been drunk."
An odd smile struggled with the gravity of Dr. Taylor's interpretation
of the reply.
"He says, of course he was drunk, as you all were. In fact, he bought a
bottle of rum instead of taking his opium, so that the effects might be
uniform--I'm telling you the sober truth, my dear boy. You see you
don't know the people or the country, or anything about them. I do.
Besides, the Tommies--the regular soldiers I mean--always make a point
of getting drunk if they can when they go down or come up to the sea in
ships. Perhaps it's the connection between reeling to and fro, you
know. I beg your pardon; no offence--but really, what with the
tambourines--"
Dr. Taylor paused with his bright eyes on the boy's face. They had been
cabin companions, and despite an absolute antagonism of thought, chums.
It is so sometimes, and as a rule such friendships last.
"Did you tell him the General was greatly displeased? It is such a
terrible beginning to our campaign; so unscriptural," mourned Sonny
_baba_ evasively.
"I don't know about that; wasn't there some one who smote off some one
else's ear? and that, I believe, is what the old man is accused of
doing. I beg your pardon again, but the coincidence is remarkable."
"And what is he saying now?" put in the other hurriedly.
Dr. Taylor paused.
"He is calling down the blessing of the one true God upon your head,
now and for all eternity," he answered slowly, and there was a sort of
hush in his voice.
Sonny _baba's_ eyes grew suspiciously moist, but he shook his head
dutifully. "How--how sad," he began.
"Very sad that you can't understand what he says," interrupted Dr.
Taylor curtly, "because as I've only just time to catch my train I must
be off. Salaam, _Akali sahib!_"
Dhurm Singh, standing to salute, detained the doctor for a minute with
eager questioning.
"What is it?" asked Sonny _baba_ again. "What is it he wants to know?"
Dr. Taylor gave a short laugh. "He wants to know who the General's papa
and mamma were, because he isn't a gentleman. You needn't stare so, my
dear fellow. That is the first thing they find out about an Englishman,
and it needs a lot of grit and go in a man to get over the initial
drawback. Well, good-bye, and if you will take my advice, come up
north, see the people, learn their language, and appreciate their lives
before you try to change them. And look here! don't go taking an
_Akali_ about in a religious procession with drums and banners. It
isn't safe, especially if you are going to Bengal."
"Why Bengal more than other places?"
"Accustomed to lick them, that's all--hereditary instinct. Well,
good-bye again, and take my advice and come north. The old
swash-buckler might be of some use to you there. He'll be in the way
down country."