RED TAPE.
"What! back again so soon, Stanny," was Captain Faulks's greeting as
McKay stepped on board the _Burlington Castle_. "I am right glad to
see you. Is that a friend of yours?" pointing to Hyde. "He is welcome
too. What brings you to Balaclava?"
McKay explained in a few words the errand on which they had come.
"Drift-wood--is that what you're after? All right, my hearties, I can
help you to what you want. My crew is standing idle, and I will send
the second officer out with them in the boats. They can land it for
you, and load up your horses."
Before the afternoon Hyde started for the camp with a plentiful supply
of fuel, intending to return next morning to take up any other
supplies that could be secured. McKay tackled his uncle on this
subject that same evening.
"Blankets? Yes, my boy, you shall have all we can spare, and I daresay
we can fit you out with a few dozen jerseys, and perhaps some seamen's
boots."
"We want all the warm clothing we can get," said McKay. "The men are
being frozen to death."
"I tell you what: there were five cases of sheepskin-jackets I brought
up--_greggos_, I think they call them--what those Tartar chaps wear in
Bulgaria.'"
"The very thing! Let's have them, uncle."
"I wish you could, lad; but they are landed and gone into the store."
"The commissariat store? I'll go after them in the morning."
"It'll trouble you to get them. He is a hard nut, that commissariat
officer, as you'll see."
Mr. Dawber, the gentleman in question, was a middle-aged officer of
long standing, who had been brought up in the strictest notions of
professional routine. He had regulations on the brain. He was a slave
to red tape, and was prepared to die rather than diverge from the
narrow grooves in which he had been trained.
The store over which he presided was in a state of indescribable
chaos. It could not be arranged as he had seen stores all his life, so
he did nothing to it at all.
When McKay arrived early next day, Mr. Dawber was being interviewed
by a doctor from a hospital-ship. The discussion had already grown
rather serious.
"I tell you my patients are dying of cold," said the doctor. "I must
have the stoves."
"It is quite impossible," replied Mr. Dawber, "without a requisition
properly signed."
"By whom?"
"It's not my place, sir, to teach you the regulations, but if you
refer to page 347, paragraph 6, you will find that no demands can be
complied with unless they have been through the commanding officer of
the troops, the senior surgeon, the principal medical officer, the
senior commissariat officer, the brigadier, and the general of
division. Bring me a requisition duly completed, and you shall have
the stoves."
"But it is monstrous: preposterous! There is not time. It would take a
week to get these signatures, and I tell you my men are dying."
"I can't help that; you must proceed according to rule."
"It's little short of murder!" said the doctor, now furious.
"And what can I do for you?" said Mr. Dawber, ignoring this remark,
and turning to another applicant, a quartermaster of the Guards.
"I have come for six bags of coffee."
"Where is your requisition?"
The quartermaster produced a large sheet of foolscap, covered with
printing and ruled lines, a mass of figures, and intricate
calculations.
Mr. Dawber seized it, and proceeded to verify the totals, which took
him half-an-hour.
"This column is incorrectly cast; in fact, the form is very carelessly
filled in. But you shall have the coffee--if we can find it."
Further long delay followed, during which Mr. Dawber and his assistant
rummaged the heterogeneous contents of his overcrowded store, and at
last he produced five bags, saying--
"You will have to do with this."
"But it is green coffee," said the quartermaster, protesting. "How are
we to roast it?"
"That's not my business. The coffee is always issued in the green
berry. You will find that it preserves its aroma better when roasted
just before use."
"We should have to burn our tent-poles or musket-stocks to cook it,"
said the quartermaster. "That stuff's no use to me," and he went away
grumbling, leaving the bags behind him.
McKay followed him out of the store.
"You won't take the coffee, then?"
"Certainly not. I wish I had the people here that sent out such
stuff."
"May I have it?"
"If you like. It's all one to me."
"Give me the requisition, then."
Armed with this important document, he returned, and accosted Mr.
Dawber.
"He has changed his mind about the coffee. You can give it to me; I
will see that he gets it. Here is the requisition."
The commissariat officer was only too pleased to get rid of the bags
according to form.
McKay next attacked him about the _greggos_. Despairing, after all he
had heard, of getting them by fair means, he resolved to try a
stratagem.
"You received yesterday, I believe, a consignment from the _Burlington
Castle_?"
"Quite so. There are the chests, still unpacked. I have not the least
idea what's inside."
"You have the bill of lading, I suppose?"
"Certainly."
"May I look at it? I come from the _Burlington Castle_, and the
captain thinks he was wrong to have sent you the cases without passing
the bill of lading through the commissariat officer at headquarters."
"I believe he is right. Here is the bill; it has not Mr. Fielder's
signature. This is most irregular. What shall I do?"
"You had better give me back the bill of lading and the cases until
the proper formalities have been observed."
"You are perfectly right, my dear sir, and I am extremely obliged to
you for your suggestion."
A few minutes later McKay had possession of the cases. With the help
of some of his uncle's crew he moved them back to the seaside, where
he waited until Hyde's arrival from the front. Then they loaded up
the _greggos_ on the baggage-animals, and returned to camp in triumph.
From that day the men of the Royal Picts were fairly well off. Their
condition was not exactly comfortable, but they suffered far less than
the bulk of their comrades in the Crimea.
Their sheepskin-jackets were not very military in appearance, but they
were warm, and their heavy seamen's boots kept out the wet. They had a
sufficiency of food, too, served hot, and prepared with
rough-and-ready skill, under the superintendence of Hyde.
He had struck up a great friendship with a Frenchman, one of the
Voltigeurs, in a neighbouring camp, who, in return for occasional nips
of sound brandy, brought straight from the _Burlington Castle_, freely
imparted the whole of his culinary knowledge to the quartermaster of
the Royal Picts.
"He is a first-class cook," said Hyde to his friend McKay, "and was
trained, he tells me, in one of the best kitchens in Paris. He could
make soup, I believe, out of an old shoe."
"I can't think how you get the materials for the men's meals. That
stew yesterday was never made out of the ration-biscuit and salt pork.
There was fresh meat in it. Where did you get it?"
Old Hyde winked gravely.
"If I were to tell you it would get about, and the men would not touch
it."
"You can trust me. Out with it."
"There's lots of fresh meat to be got in the camp by those who know
where to look for it. Anatole"--this was his French friend--"put me up
to it."
"I don't understand, Hyde. What do you mean?"
"I mean that her Majesty's Royal Picts have been feeding upon
horseflesh. And very excellent meat, too, full of nourishment when it
is not too thin. That is my chief difficulty with what I get."
"It's only prejudice, I suppose," said McKay, laughing; "but it will
be as well, I think, to keep your secret."
But horseflesh was better than no meat, and the men of the Royal Picts
throve well and kept their strength upon Hyde's soups and savoury
stews. Thanks to the care bestowed upon them, the regiment kept up its
numbers in a marvellous way--it even returned more men for duty than
corps which had just arrived, and the difference between it and others
in the camp-grounds close by was so marked that Lord Raglan came over
and complimented Blythe upon the condition of his command.
"I can't tell how you manage, Blythe," said his lordship; "I wish we
had a few more regiments like the Picts."
"It is all system, my lord, and I have reason, I think, to be proud of
ours--that and an excellent regimental staff. I have a capital
quartermaster and a first-rate adjutant."
"I should like to see them," said Lord Raglan.
McKay and Hyde were brought forward and presented to the
Commander-in-Chief.
"Mr. McKay, I know your name. You behaved admirably at Inkerman. I
have just had a letter, too, about you from England."
"About me, my lord?" said Stanislas, astonished.
"Yes, from Lord Essendine, your cousin. And, to oblige him, no less
than on your own account, I must renew my offer of an appointment on
the headquarter staff."
McKay looked at the colonel and shook his head.
"You are very good, my lord, but I prefer to stay with my regiment."
"Colonel Blythe, you really must spare him to me," said Lord Raglan.
"We want him, and more of his stamp."
"Your wishes are law, my lord. I should prefer to keep Mr. McKay, but
I will not stand in his way if he desires to go. I shall not miss him
so much now that everything is in good working order."
McKay was disposed still to protest, but Lord Raglan cut him short by
saying--
"Come over to headquarters to-morrow, and report yourself to General
Airey. As for you, my fine fellow," Lord Raglan went on, turning to
Hyde, "you are still a non-commissioned officer, I see."
"Yes, my lord, I am only acting-quartermaster."
"Well, I shall recommend you for a commission at once."
"I do not want promotion, my lord," replied Hyde.
"He has refused it several times," added Blythe.
"That's all nonsense! He must take it; it's for the good of the
service. I shall send forward your name," and, so saying, Lord Raglan
rode off.
Stanislas took up his duties at headquarters next day. He was attached
to the quartermaster-general's department, and was at once closely
examined as to his capabilities and qualifications by his new chief,
General Airey, a man of extraordinarily quick perception, and a shrewd
judge of character.
"You speak French? Fluently? Let's see," and the general changed the
conversation to that language. "That's all right. What else? Italian?
German? Russian?--"
"Yes, sir, Russian."
"You ought to be very useful to us. But you will have to work hard,
Mr. McKay, very hard. There are no drones here."
McKay soon found that out. From daybreak to midnight everyone at
headquarters slaved incessantly. Horses stood ready saddled in the
stables, and officers came and went at all hours. Men needed to
possess iron constitution and indomitable energy to meet the demands
upon their strength.
"Lord Raglan wants somebody to go at once to Kamiesch," said General Airey,
coming out one morning to the room in which his staff-assistants worked and
waited for special instructions. There was no one there but McKay, and he
had that instant returned from Balaclava. "Have you been out this morning,
Mr. McKay? Yes? Well, it can't be helped; you must go again."
"I am only too ready, sir."
"That's right. Lord Raglan does not spare himself, neither must you."
"I know, sir. How disgraceful it is that he should be attacked by the
London newspapers and accused of doing nothing at all!"
"Yes, indeed! Why, he was writing by candle-light at six o'clock this
morning, and after breakfast he saw us all, the heads of departments
and three divisional generals. Since then he has been writing without
intermission. By-and-by he will ride through the camp, seeing into
everything with his own eyes."
"His lordship is indefatigable: it is the least we can do to follow
his example," said McKay, as he hurried away.
This was one of many such conversations between our hero and his new
chief. By degrees the quartermaster-general came to value the
common-sense opinion of this practical young soldier, and to discuss
with him unreservedly the more pressing needs of the hour.
There was as yet no improvement in the state of the Crimean army; on
the contrary, as winter advanced, it deteriorated, pursued still by
perverse ill-luck. The weather was terribly inclement, alternating
between extremes. Heavy snowstorms and hard frosts were followed by
thaws and drenching rains. The difficulties of transport continued
supreme. Roads, mere spongy sloughs of despond, were nearly
impassable, and the waste of baggage-animals was so great that soon
few would remain.
To replace them with fresh supplies became of paramount importance.
"We must draw upon neighbouring countries," said General Airey,
talking it over one day with McKay. "It ought to have been done
sooner. But better now than not at all. I will send to the Levant, to
Constantinople, Italy--"
"Spain," suggested McKay.
"To be sure! What do you suppose we could get from Spain?"
"Thousands of mules and plenty of horses."
"It is worth thinking of, although the distance is great," replied the
quartermaster-general. "I will speak to Lord Raglan at once on the
subject. By-the-way, I think you know Spanish?"
"Yes," said McKay, "fairly well."
"Then you had better get ready to start. If any one goes, I will send
you."
This was tantamount to an order. General Airey's advice was certain to
be taken by Lord Raglan.
Next morning McKay started for Gibraltar, specially accredited to the
Governor of the fortress, and with full powers to buy and forward
baggage-animals as expeditiously as possible.