A BARRACK-ROOM SQUABBLE.
Ranged on one side of the room were eight iron bedsteads, the bedding
being rolled up and strapped round to keep it neat during the daytime.
Down the centre of the room, resting on iron trestles, were several long
deal boards, scrubbed very white, forming a table; on each side of the
table were forms.
The occupants of the room were variously engaged. Two young fellows at
one end of the room were engaged in a bout with the boxing-gloves;
another was sitting at the table writing a letter; a fourth was engaged
burnishing a sword-scabbard, other parts of his kit lying round him; a
fifth lad was pipeclaying a pair of gauntlets; while seated at a window,
dressed in shirt and overalls only, was the eldest of the party, a
short, stout young man, smoking a clay-pipe and talking to a comrade.
Over the beds hung each man’s sword and belts, and on a shelf above
these were the lance-caps in their oilskin cases, and the clothes neatly
folded, surmounting the sheepskin and the blue shabracks which covered
the saddles when the regiment was in review order.
Jack was not long taking in these details; but before he had done so the
various occupants of the room had desisted from their occupations and
fixed their eyes upon him.
‘Why, it’s Sergeant Barrymore’s pup!’ said the young fellow with the
pipe. ‘Come here, kid, and let’s have a look at you.’
This was said in a sneering manner, and Jack took an instinctive dislike
to the speaker.
‘Run away from school, or has yer mammy been spanking you?’ he added.
‘Neither,’ said Jack simply. ‘I have become a soldier of my own free
will.’
‘Ho my!’ exclaimed he with the pipe. ‘Well, just behave yourself, or
you’ll feel the weight of my boot.’
‘That’s Napper,’ said Hodson to Jack. ‘Don’t take any notice of him.’
He took Jack to a bed which he said would be his, and proceeded to show
him how to put down and make it with the straw-filled tick and the
coarse sheets and blankets. Jack helped to roll and strap it up again
just as a trumpet sounded outside.
‘There goes mess,’ cried Bandsman Napper. ‘Now, Brown, shin off and get
the grub;’ and a young trumpeter, picking up a big tin, left the room.
The table required little laying, the boys producing from the shelves
over their beds chunks of bread, in which knives and forks were stuck,
plates and basins like pudding-basins were laid on the table, and the
bandsman who had been talking to Napper, with a jaunty ‘Ta-ta, boys!’
went off to his own room.
The trumpeter who had departed for the dinners presently returned, and
in the mess-tin was a great piece of meat and a number of baked potatoes
swimming in the fat beneath; and a second youngster followed with a
great tin of cabbage. All these were placed on the table.
The plates were passed up, and Napper, who was in charge of the room,
commenced to carve the meat. Carving, with him, simply consisted of
first trimming off the brown, well-done portions and some crisp fat for
himself, then cutting the remainder into seven ugly chunks, one of which
he dumped on each plate. Hodson added some potatoes, and each helped
himself to cabbage; then without any more ado all fell to.
Hodson, looking up, saw Jack had nothing on the plate in front of him.
‘I say, Napper,’ he said, ‘Blair’s got no grub.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’ answered Napper with his mouth full.
‘He’s in the mess, you know.’
‘He ain’t had any rations drawn for him, anyhow. If he wants any grub
let him get it in the sergeants’ mess with his pals,’ he concluded
spitefully, evidently alluding to Jack’s friendliness with Barrymore.
‘Here, I say, that’s all rot,’ said Hodson. ‘He’s hungry.’
‘Then let him gnaw that,’ grinned Napper, pointing to the bone which
remained in the tin.
‘Never mind, chummy; share with me,’ said Hodson, proceeding to put some
of his dinner on Jack’s plate.
‘Certainly not,’ replied Jack. ‘I’m not very hungry, and in any case Mr
Napper says I can have the bone. I’ll take him at his word, for I’m
particularly fond of picking a bone.’
The ‘Mr’ tickled the fancy of the youngsters, one or two of whom grinned
gleefully, perceiving which, Napper scowled round upon them.
‘Look here, you young tramp,’ he said savagely to Jack, ‘don’t you give
me any of your cheek or I’ll cuff your head for you. And you can take
off those elegant manners too. If your “superior education” fits you
for the orficers’ mess you’d better get there; they want waiters anyway.
But while you’re here you’ll knock under, d’ye hear?’
‘Perfectly, you speak loudly enough.’
Another titter ran round, which made Napper redder than ever.
Hodson had put the bone on Jack’s plate, and was adding some potatoes
when Napper cried out, ‘Drop those; we don’t mind giving dogs bones, but
we don’t give ’em spuds.’
At this the laugh turned against Jack; but at boarding-school he had
been too used to that to take any notice. So with some cabbage, which
Hodson, in defiance of his superior, gave him, and with a lump of bread
which another trumpeter offered him, he made a very good dinner, for
there was plenty of meat on the bone.
Napper was in a bad humour, and after he had finished his dinner,
lighting up his pipe, he said to Jack, ‘You’ll just understand that I’m
in charge here and you’ll do as you’re told.’
‘Certainly.’
‘Don’t answer me.’
Jack made no reply, for he saw at once that Napper was a bully, misusing
the little authority he had, and that the majority of the trumpeters
found it paid them to toady a little to one much older and stronger than
themselves. On his part Jack determined to feel his feet before he
tackled Bandsman Napper, for he felt assured before long they would come
to grips.
Seeing Jack stood without speaking, Napper said, ‘You’ll help Brown to
wash up and tidy the room. You’ve got to work here, and the sooner you
begin the better.’
Jack helped to wash up the plates, knives, and forks, the hot water
being got from the cook-house. Then the table was washed down and the
floor swept.
By that time all the trumpeters, except one who was cleaning up his kit
for guard the next day, had gone off to practice. Jack looked across at
him, and saw he was busy burnishing a pair of spurs. This trumpeter,
whose name was Parkes, was a stolid-looking lad, who took no notice of
Jack till the latter went up to him and in a cheery voice said, ‘I say,
can I help you?’
Parkes looked up from his work. ‘No good trying to borrow off me,
chummy. I’m broke,’ he said.
‘I don’t want to borrow anything. Sooner or later I’ve got to learn to
do what you’re doing. I hate doing nothing. Show me how, and I’ll help
you.’
‘Now you’re talking!’ said Parkes. ‘You’re the man I want to meet every
time I’m for guard. Can you black boots?’
‘Yes.’
‘Clean them, then,’ and he pointed to his Wellingtons. ‘You’ll find the
blacking and brushes in my valise.’
Jack set to work, whistling gaily, and soon produced a polish that made
Parkes smile.
‘Old Jimmy’ll reckon I’ve turned over a new leaf,’ he said.
He showed Jack how to polish the plate on the front of his lance-cap,
and the chin-chain, and when he had done this Jack could not resist the
temptation of putting the cap on and surveying himself in the bit of
looking-glass, four inches square, fastened on the wall at the head of
Parkes’ bed.
‘Feel big, eh?’ queried the trumpeter.
‘Not very,’ said Jack; ‘but it’s a handsome headdress.’
‘Wait till you’ve worn one six hours at a stretch on a broiling-hot day,
then tell me how you like it,’ grinned Parkes.
The whole of his accoutrements being cleaned, that youth jerked out a
brief ‘Thanks!’ then put down his bed, and throwing himself on it
composed himself for a nap. Before he sank quite into the land of dreams
he suddenly started up and said, ‘Didn’t I hear your name was Blair?’
‘You did,’ replied Jack.
‘Right. You ain’t a bad sort; I’ll give you a tip. Don’t you make an
enemy of Snapper.’
‘Napper, do you mean?’
‘Same man. Name’s Sam Napper; S. Napper--see? We call him Snapper; you
can guess why. Give him a wide berth, and don’t try hitting back at him
unless you’re sure of getting your blow in, else, as sure as I’m Billy
Parkes, you’ll curse the day you ever made the Queen’s bad bargain.’
Almost before this speech, a very long one for Parkes, was finished,
that gentleman was asleep; and making a shrewd guess that by ‘the
Queen’s bad bargain’ Parkes meant enlisting, Jack sat quietly down and
thought over the situation.
That Napper was a bully he had already seen; that he was of a low
disposition he guessed, and that he set the young trumpeters a bad
example he feared. It was clear there would be trouble between them; he
was not going to sit down under tyranny. He would do his duty
cheerfully and manfully, and try to please Napper; if things went
wrong--well, they would see.
This being settled, Jack thought it a good opportunity to write to his
mother an account of all that had happened, and explain to her how it
was he had become a trumpeter in the ‘Death or Glory Boys.’ He procured
some note-paper from the canteen, and then set to work to write a long
letter. He was just finishing, when, with a clatter and a jingle,
laughing and talking, the rest of the trumpeters, headed by Napper, came
trooping into the room. Hodson went up to Jack.
‘Well, chummy, what are you doing?’ he asked.
Napper interrupted. ‘Can’t you see he’s writing to his
mammy.--Requesting the old girl to send you a bob’s worth of stamps,
eh?’ he asked of Jack.
The latter took no notice, but folding his letter, put it in the
envelope.
‘Ho, ho, the dook’s on his high horse,’ said Napper; ‘been telling “my
mamma” I’ve joined the cavalry, don’t-cher-know, and shall soon be in
the orficers’ mess.’
Some of the trumpeters sniggered.
‘Let’s see what the young beggar has said,’ cried Napper, stepping up to
Jack and trying to snatch his letter.
Jack’s eyes flashed ominously and he jumped to his feet.
‘Don’t you interfere with me or try to touch my letter,’ he cried, his
voice vibrating with passion.
Napper tried to seize the hand in which Jack held his letter; but the
latter placed his left hand on Napper’s chest and pushed him so
violently that he almost fell backwards.
Napper turned livid with rage. ‘You scum, you,’ he cried, ‘I’ll show
you. I’ve had to take cocky youngsters down before. Here, one of you,
give me my whip!’
No one moved, though several of the youngsters looked nervously at one
another. Napper sprang to his bed, snatched down his riding-whip, and
advancing towards Jack, cried, ‘Give me that letter or I’ll tan you till
you can’t stand.’
‘Touch me with that whip if you dare,’ answered Jack, with flashing
eyes.
Napper raised the whip, and Jack put up his arm to ward off the blow;
but at that moment the door was opened, a jingle of spurs sounded, and a
hoarse voice cried, ‘Ha, hum! now, you toads, what is all this? Not a
move, any one, or I’ll put the lot under arrest. What d’ye mean by it I
want to know? D’ye hear, _I want to know_?’