JACK MAKES GOOD PROGRESS.
Next morning Napper presented a woeful appearance, his face being sadly
bruised, while one eye was beautifully encircled with green-and-black
rings. His lips were so swollen that it was clear it would be some days
before he would be able to place his trombone to his mouth.
He said nothing during breakfast; but once or twice Jack caught him
looking in a fashion that boded him little good if Napper ever had a
chance of doing him an ill-turn. As soon as breakfast was over Napper
went to hospital and reported himself sick, and there he stayed for a
day or two, nominally suffering from a ‘swollen face.’
No official notice was taken of the matter, though Jack had been rather
afraid at first that he might get into trouble for ‘fighting in
barracks.’ Indeed, it came to his ears later that both the trumpet-major
and Sergeant Linham had expressed themselves pleased that Napper had
been given a sharp lesson, for his bullying propensities were well
known.
On the Sunday morning there was church parade, and a pretty sight,
indeed, the regiment presented as in full-dress, dismounted and carrying
swords only, headed by their splendid band, they marched off. Jack’s
heart glowed with pride to think that these gaily apparelled Lancers
were his comrades, and that he, too, was now one of the ‘Death or Glory
Boys.’
On Monday Jack was informed that next day he was to join the recruit
squad in the riding-school. This news gave him genuine delight, for he
was exceedingly fond of horses and longed to have one of his own.
Accordingly, next morning, in undress uniform and without spurs, Jack
paraded with the squad of recruits with whom he had been doing extension
drill.
They went off to the stables, where they took possession of their
horses. Jack was given a pretty animal that he quite fell in love with
at the first glance. She had belonged to a bandsman who had just left
the regiment, and was a very pretty bay, as were most of the
band-horses. She was rather small, but her broad chest and tapering legs
denoted both strength and swiftness. She had an arching neck, and soft,
limpid eyes that looked as intelligent as a human being’s.
The horse had its bridle already on, but no saddle, as the first lessons
are taken bareback.
‘Don’t jar her mouth, youngster,’ said the old soldier who had groomed
her, as he handed the bridle to Jack. ‘Use her gently and she’ll carry
you as comfortably as though you were in an arm-chair.’
They then went off to the riding-school, and as they entered the
rough-riding sergeant seemed to Jack to eye his ‘victims’ with a
sinister glance.
The men were placed in position, the sergeant standing in the middle,
armed with a long whip like a circus-master’s. His assistant
rough-riders stood near him, all looking, it seemed to Jack, grimly
earnest. The men, being in position, were called sharply up to
‘Attention!’
‘Spring smartly up,’ cried the sergeant, ‘the left hand holding the
snaffle-rein near the ring, the right arm down, little finger behind the
stripe of the overalls.’
The assistants saw that the men were in position; then they were
instructed how to stand on the command, ‘Prepare to mount!’
‘On the command “Mount!”’ continued the sergeant, ‘place the right hand
on the horse’s withers, then spring lightly up, remaining perfectly
still when seated.’
‘Mount!’
Of the eleven men in the squad, only four managed to get on their
horses’ backs; some of the others were sprawling wildly on their
stomachs on the horses’ backs, endeavouring madly to throw the right leg
over; while one heavy fellow named Wilson had bumped against his horse
with so much force that the animal reared away, and Wilson, hanging
wildly to the bridle with both hands, was dragged along, shouting, ‘Whoa
there! whoa, back!’
‘What are you doing, you confounded tailor; you’re not driving a cab.’
‘I ain’t a tailor,’ said the man; ‘I’m a plasterer.’
‘And I’ll plaster you if you don’t watch it. Mount, man, mount!’
‘I can’t.’
‘Don’t answer me; do as I tell you.’
The assistants got to work; Wilson was hoisted up, and presently the
whole squad was mounted.
Jack had got on very well, and sat quite still on Dainty, for such was
his horse’s name.
‘Walk march,’ said the sergeant; and the well-trained animals, without
any intimation from their riders, began to step round the school.
The sergeant kept throwing sentences at them as they went round.
‘Legs well down, heels in line with the shoulders, toes raised, back
well hollowed in! Now, you Wilson fellow, sit up; man, you’re like a
sack of bran tied up ugly! Sit up, the horse’s back won’t break.’
Wilson tried his best, but he made a sorry show.
‘Now we’ll try a trot. Keep your heads well up, press your knees in, let
the horses throw you up and down, and ride by the balance of your
bodies! But, mind, don’t lose your position or jerk the horses’ mouths!’
‘Trot!’
What a sight was there. As the horses trotted round the men wobbled
about, and several looked absolutely scared.
‘Knees in, heads up!’ shouted the instructor. ‘You, Wilson, hold on!’
Wilson obeyed by completely losing his balance, then clinging wildly
round the horse’s neck, one leg across the animal’s back, the other toe
just hopping along on the ground.
‘Oh you dashed tailor! oh you cobbler!’ roared the sergeant. ‘Why didn’t
you join the Militia. Who sent you here for a Lancer?’
Poor Wilson rolled over on the tan, the horses stepping gingerly over
him.
‘How dare you dismount?’ asked the sergeant.
‘I couldn’t keep on, sergeant.’
‘Hold on by your teeth; your mouth’s big enough. Now, the squad, halt!’
The horses stopped so suddenly that two more luckless wights pitched
over their horses’ heads and lay wallowing on the tan. More cutting
remarks from the sergeant, then the squad again ‘stood to their
horses,’ and were once more instructed in the method of mounting. This
time poor Wilson made such a leap that he shot right over his horse’s
back and fell off on the other side, roaring lustily.
‘You’re not in the gymnasium on the vaulting-horse,’ roared the
sergeant. ‘Look up, man, or you’ll put in the whole of your twelve in
the riding-school.’
Presently the men again got mounted and the ride went on. Jack, being
light and agile, and his horse docile, managed very well, and soon began
to feel confidence, remembering the old soldier’s words, not to ‘jar her
mouth.’
In about an hour’s time the riding-master and a rather short but very
broad officer, whom Jack afterwards learnt was Captain Norreys, entered
the school, and the recruits were handled a little more gently.
Presently Captain Norreys and the riding-master, who had noticed how
well Jack was getting on, came up to him, and the captain said kindly,
‘What is your name, my lad?’
‘John Blair, sir.’
‘Have you ridden before?’
‘On a pony once or twice, sir.’
‘You’re doing very well, Blair; very well. We shall soon make a
cavalryman of you. Go on as you have begun.’ And Jack’s heart warmed
within him at the kindly words.
Presently the ride was dismissed and the horses taken back to the
stables. Despite his stiffness and soreness, Jack thoroughly enjoyed his
ride, and was quite eager to begin again, the kindly notice taken of him
by the riding-master and Captain Norreys filling him with pleasure.
On the Thursday, Napper resumed his duties. He took up his old position
without a word, retaining his loud and domineering manner, and smoking
and frequenting the canteen as much as before; but Tommy Callon was no
longer a sort of valet to him, nor did any one do his pipeclaying and
burnishing. Also, he studiously let Jack alone; so peace reigned. This
was the more so as the band was then playing a good deal at London,
Richmond, Kew, and other places; so that Napper was much away.
Jack got on splendidly with his trumpet and bugle work, and Linham
declared that Blair was a credit to him, ending up with a tremendous
‘Ha, hum!’ that clinched the matter.
He soon got very attached to his horse Dainty, which was indeed a
beautiful and docile creature, whinnying when Jack went into the stable,
rubbing her velvet muzzle against his face when he spoke to her, and
reaching out towards his hand in expectation of the usual lump of sugar
he brought her.
Jack, being a big boy for his age, was drilled with his squad both in
the lance and sword exercise, for the colonel of the Lancers was a man
who insisted upon his trumpeters being soldiers as well. With Sergeant
Linham he seemed to be quite a favourite. The sergeant was a first-class
soldier, one of those in whom discipline is second nature, and whose
whole knowledge of life is limited to the service. Jack was once
speaking of him to Sergeant Barrymore.
‘He is a queer fish, is Jimmy,’ said Barrymore; ‘but a truer comrade
never lived, and he’s a great friend of the colonel’s too!’
‘Is he really?’ said Jack, opening his eyes.
‘He is, indeed. I’ll guarantee there’s not a man in the regiment,
including the officers, that the colonel thinks as much of, or is really
so fond of, as he is of Jimmy Linham.’
Jack looked as though he thought Barrymore was chaffing him.
‘It’s a fact, I can assure you,’ said Barrymore. ‘How otherwise do you
think Jimmy got his stripes? Not for his trumpeting qualities, for, as
you know, he’s a poor hand at that. No, my boy, Jimmy Linham wears those
stripes because he’s a friend of the colonel’s. They were together in
the 16th, our colonel as a young cornet and Linham as trumpeter. They
had some terrible experiences in Afghanistan together, and both suffered
losses. They went together through the Sikh war of ‘40, and took part in
some of the fiercest fights. I never heard the exact rights of it, but I
know Jimmy and the colonel have some sort of a common bond of sympathy
that binds them together. The colonel brought Linham with him when he
came to ours, and he made him sergeant, and sergeant he’ll remain as
long as the colonel is with us.’
Time went on, and Jack, being really fond of his work, and having a
natural aptitude for soldiering, made splendid progress. At the end of
about three months the trumpet-major came down one morning to the
practice, and calling Jack out in front of his squad, made him sound
thirty or forty calls, both on trumpet and bugle. Jack did his best and
felt he had fairly well acquitted himself. He had worked hard during his
spare time, for he was anxious to take up his regular duties.
In the evening, while he was engaged on what is termed
‘soldiering’--that is, cleaning his kit and accoutrements--Sergeant
Linham, looking preternaturally solemn, entered the room with the
suddenness that characterised his movements.
‘Ha, hum!’ he snorted, ‘Acting-trumpeter Blair.’
‘Here, sergeant.’
‘The trumpet-major wants to see you at once, and, ha, hum! see that you
go smart and clean.’
‘Right, sergeant,’ and Jack slipped into his jacket and adjusted his
forage-cap to the required angle, while Hodson ran a cloth-brush over
him.
‘What do you think’s up, Will?’ he asked a little nervously.
‘I don’t want to frighten you, Jack,’ said that Job’s comforter; ‘but at
this moment I’d sooner be in my boots than in yours. I should say some
one has spotted an unpipeclayed belt of yours, you’ve got an
unfavourable report from riding-school or drill, or you’ve failed to
salute some officer, or’----
‘Oh shut up, Will; you’ll hang me before I’m tried;’ and Jack started
off for the trumpet-major’s quarters, being rendered none the easier in
his mind by noticing as he left the room the evil grin on Napper’s face.
It was with some trepidation that Jack entered the trumpet-major’s
quarters in response to the shouted ‘Come in,’ after he had knocked; but
the friendly look with which he was greeted did much towards putting him
at his ease.
‘Oh Blair,’ said the trumpet-major, ‘I wanted to see you. I’m very
pleased at the progress you’ve made--very. So far as your ability to
sound is concerned you’re quite fit to take duty with the others, and
the riding-master tells me he shall soon dismiss you from the rides.
You’ve done very well.’
Jack coloured with pleasure, for he felt that he had made his first step
on the road to success.
‘You’ve done so well that I’m going to get you posted to a troop’ said
the trumpet-major. ‘Brittain, of D Troop, is going into the band, and I
shall send you in his place. You can don the cross-trumpets as soon as
you like.’
This news was more than ever agreeable to Jack. D Troop was Captain
Norrey’s and Sergeant Barrymore’s, so that Jack felt that he would be
amongst those whom he liked best.
‘As you won’t join your troop till next week,’ said the trumpet-major
kindly, ‘how would you like a day or two of leave? You’ve got people
somewhere near, haven’t you?’
Jack’s heart gave a prodigious leap. ‘I have,’ he replied, ‘and I should
like above all things to see them.’
‘Very well, then. To-day’s Tuesday; I will arrange for you to have from
Friday night till next Tuesday. How’ll that do?’
‘Splendidly.’
‘That’s all right then. Now, run away.’
Full of delight, Jack went, and on his return every one in his room was
glad to hear his news except Napper, who scowled evilly at him.
On the following evening Jack, as was the custom amongst the trumpeters
when posted to a troop, stood treat to his chums, and there was a great
consumption of sausages, jam-rolls, apples, and cocoa. Sergeant Linham,
looking in by chance during the evening, drank Jack’s health. Napper
came in late and looked daggers at everybody; but no one took any notice
of him.
On the Friday, arrayed in full dress, wearing his trumpeter’s badge,
Jack started for home, feeling as happy as a sand-boy. In due course he
reached the little crescent in Camden Town in which his family lived.
There were a number of not overclean children playing in the street, and
not overtidy women standing here and there at their doors. Used as he
was to the roominess and order of barracks, this struck Jack painfully.
Clarence Crescent seemed to him dingier even than when he had left it to
take up his duties at Messrs Phogg & Cheetham’s, and when he thought of
the large house and beautiful garden which had been theirs in the old
days he could hardly repress a sigh. He, however, paid little heed to
women and children, his eyes were fixed on the upper windows of a house
about half-way down the street. There he saw several faces, the owners
of which had no sooner observed the young soldier than they disappeared.
Before Jack could reach the doorstep, his mother and three young girls
had the door opened, waiting for him, and in another moment he was
simply surrounded by clinging arms.
‘Dear old Jack, welcome home!’ cried Molly, a fair-haired, handsome
girl, the very counterpart of Jack.
‘Why, he’s taller than you are, mamma,’ cried Ada, the second girl.
‘Where’s your horse?’ asked Connie, the youngest.
‘Let’s get inside,’ said Jack, who did not appreciate the audience
gathering round the door. This was closed, and the whole family went
upstairs to their little sitting-room.
‘Dear mother,’ cried Jack, taking his mother in his arms and kissing her
fondly, ‘how are you?’
‘Very well, my dear boy,’ she replied, kissing her son; ‘but how you
have grown! What a great fellow you’re getting!’
Jack laughed happily. How good it was to be at home! Soon tea was on the
table. The family drew up, and Jack had to tell them all about his new
life--that is, all the pleasant parts; the darker side he hid from them.
The few days that Jack spent among his family he always looked back upon
as amongst the happiest of his life; and when the time came for him to
say ‘Good-bye,’ and mother and sisters were in tears, it was as much as
Jack could do to restrain his own. He, however, remembered he was a
soldier, and went off bravely. He reached barracks all right, and at
once reported himself to the trumpet-major.
‘You’re in ample time, Blair; a good rule,’ said the trumpet-major.
‘Always aim at being a day too soon rather than a moment too late.’
Jack’s comrades welcomed him warmly when he entered the room, and asked
him all sorts of questions as to what he had been doing; but Jack gave
them little information, for to his comrades of the barrack-room his
home-life and his family were as a sealed book.
The familiar sounds of reveille woke him in the morning, and in
half-an-hour he had taken his place again in the new life, and began to
feel at home again in barracks. He took up his new duties, Sergeant
Barrymore expressing his pleasure at Jack having been posted to his
troop.
Jack grew in popularity with his superiors and with his comrades, while
Napper sank in their estimation. He tried in every way to annoy Jack,
but the latter always defeated his attempts.