Well, Cracker, my dear friend, the fighting did begin in earnest, and
soon too after we landed, though I'm sure I was very much puzzled
indeed, and tried in vain to make out what it all meant.
How I wished that Tom had been there to help me, for I think Tom knew
nearly everything worth knowing.
For the first time now I saw my master in full fighting array. He
called his fine clothes his war-paint, and he drew a huge long knife out
of a holder, and showed me how sharp it was, and said he was going to do
and die in his country's cause.
I wasn't quite sure what doing and dying in a country's cause was. But
from the very commencement I knew that those soldier-men made a terrible
din.
My master, in his gallant uniform and long sharp knife, belonged to the
gay Highlanders, and they were the first sent on shore, and marched
about in line and wheeled and tacked to the sound of the skirling
bagpipes, with no other idea, I thought, than just to show off their
fine clothes.
War, I began to think, must be very nice indeed.
Ah! but Cracker, the fur hadn't begun to fly yet.
Well, master's servant was a very tall fighting-man of the Highlanders,
whom his comrades called Jock McNab.
"McNab," said my master one day.
The red-faced, big pleasant man saluted.
"What's your wull?" said Jock McNab.
"Shireen knows you well by this time."
"Ah! 'deed she does," said Jock, "and lo'es me too."
"Well, Mac, we've both got to look after her. Do you think when we get
into grips with the enemy, that Shireen would sit on top of your
knapsack?"
"Weel," said Jock, "if you'll gie me leave, sir, I'll soon drill her to
that."
So Jock took me in hand that very evening after we reached camp, and
began to teach me what he called "knapsack drill."
It was very simple. I was put on top of the knapsack and Jock fixed the
bayonet on his gun and commenced plunging about up and down, and high
and low, as if in front of the enemy. But I set my nails firmly into
the knapsack and nothing could shake me off.
"That'll do fine for a beginning," said Jock.
There were British soldiers in the entrenched camp before Bushire, when
we landed there, and marched to it, and right hearty welcome they made
us.
The camp was in the middle of a vast plain, on which grew here and there
some clumps of palm trees, and here and there a ruin stood. To our left
was the blue sea, with the far-off shipping. Some distance in front of
us was the walled town itself, built upon a long spit of land, and
washed nearly all round by the sea. Far away behind the town were the
lofty mountains, their snowy heads rising-high into the azure sky.
"Poetry again!" said Warlock.
"A spice of poesy," said Shireen grandly, "sometimes adds attraction to
a scene. Don't you think so, Cracker?"
"Well, Shireen, to tell you the truth I can't say I understand it like.
My mother used to say to me `Cracker,' she said, `in your journey
through this vale of tears, always make a better use of your teeth than
your tongue.'"
"Very good," said Warlock. "Your mother must have been a brick,
Cracker."
"A brick, Warlock. What a funny idea! No, no, my mother was a Bingley
terrier. But go on, Shireen, when did the fur begin to fly?"
Not yet a bit, Cracker. Well, at night, I found my way to master's
tent, and was glad to snuggle up in his arms, for though the days were
warm the nights were bitterly cold.
Just before I fell asleep, Jock McNab came to the tent.
"I'm sayin', sir," he said.
"Yes, Mac, what is it?"
"Is Shireen wi' you?"
"That she is. Thank you, McNab, for being so mindful."
"That's a' richt then," said Jock. "Good-nicht."
And away the faithful fellow went.
Now although we were lying in camp here before Bushire, we weren't going
to attack this town. Indeed, the people seemed very glad to see us, and
sold us all kinds of nice things. So our brave General Outram soon got
ready to make a terrible attack upon an entrenched camp of the Persians,
fifty miles distant, and we had to walk all the way.
What a beautiful sight it was, I thought, to see all those brave
soldiers in lines and lines, outside the camp; horses, Highlanders, and
even fighting sailors and artillerymen. Of course you won't understand
all I am saying, Cracker, but I am a soldier's cat, you know, and cannot
help feeling a little martial ardour when I think of that splendid
campaign.
Well, off we marched at last, my master at the head of his company, and
I, perched on Jock McNab's knapsack, but keeping master in my eye all
the time.
What a long weary, dreary march that was to Char Kota!
"Eh? Eh? What is it?" said the starling. "What d'ye say?"
"I said Char Kota, Dick, but I'm not going to use any hard names if I
can help it, you may be sure."
Well, continued Shireen, the village I mentioned is twenty-six miles
from the shore, but after a long halt we fell in again, and it was ten
o'clock at night before we got to the place where we were to rest till
morning.
Oh, how tired and weary the poor fellows were, for all the afternoon a
cruel high cold wind had been raising dust-clouds around us, and
buffeting us till we could hardly get on!
During a great part of the march I trotted by my master's side.
The night turned out bitterly cold, and as we lay on the ground the rain
fell in torrents. The thunder roared and lightning flashed, till I
thought surely we would be all drowned. As it was we were drenched to
the skin.
Firing took place next morning, and I was a bit frightened; but Jock
told me the men were only tiring off their pieces to make sure they were
all right, after the heavy night of drenching rain.
The fight was to begin to-day, this very forenoon, for the enemy with
all his guns was but five miles away, in his fortified camp at Brasjoon.
"The fur would soon fly," said Cracker, beginning to get much
interested.
"Ah! but, Cracker, the fur didn't fly, for the enemy did."
"They weren't real terriers," Cracker said, "you bet."
No, and so they ran, and we took their camp, and their guns, and a lot
of other things, and settled down for a bit, after destroying all the
stores we didn't want.
It was a cold, clear night, with the moon shining very brightly on the
plain and camp, and on the great mountains rising in rocky terraces high
into the starry sky, and not very far from us. We expected the great
battle would be fought next day, at least the men said so, and I
listened eagerly to all their conversation.
But the fur didn't fly next day after all, and now we set out to walk
back to Bushire, after doing the enemy's camp all the damage we could.
We started on the march towards the shore at eight o'clock, and marched
on and on, singing and talking till midnight came.
Then, Cracker, the fun commenced, and the fur did begin to fly at last.
"Tell us! Tell us!" cried Cracker.
Oh, it is evident, Cracker, you are not a soldier's dog, else you would
know that no single person can see more than a very little bit of a
battle, although he may be right in the midst of it. But if I didn't
see much I heard plenty.
It was sometime past midnight, and the moon was shining, though sand was
blowing and getting into our eyes, when shouting and yelling, and awful
firing was heard in the rear of our army. In less than half-an-hour the
moonlight battle was raging its very fiercest. Horsemen were galloping
here and there, yelling forth words of command, big guns roared out on
the night air, bugles rang, and musketry roared, and fire flashed in
every direction.
Of course, Cracker, being only a cat, I was terribly afraid, and
sometimes I could not see my dear master at all for the smoke, only his
flashing sword; but I often heard his brave voice high above the din of
the battle, and this gave me courage and hope.
But my greatest trial came when the wild horsemen of the enemy came
dashing on towards the Highlanders, and attempted to break their ranks.
Even at this terrible moment poor Jock McNab put up his hand and
smoothed me.
"Hold on, pussy," he said. "Dinna be feared. The tulzie will soon be
ower when the grim-faced foreigners get a taste o' Highland steel."
And a terrible tulzie that was, Cracker, and I saw much blood, and
flashing of fire and steel, and cries and groans and shrieks. Oh, it
was awful!
Then the heat of the fight seemed to surge away from us, and Jock found
time to put up his hand once more and say,--
"Are ye still there, Shireen? Bravo! pussy."
The firing of the foe was much farther away now, and kept on thus all
night long, till day at length broke pink and blue over the lovely
snow-clad mountains.
Since the fierce raging of the battle, all throughout the cold hours of
night, we had lain where we had stood, without fire or without covering,
and showing never a light. But away in the West the pale moon began to
sink at last in a cloudy haze, and at daylight nothing could be seen for
the grey mists that covered hills and plain.
Master came round and I rose to meet him. He asked Jock McNab as he
smoked and patted my head, whether I had shown any fear during the
fight.
"Never a morsel, sir," said Jock; "any more than yourself, sir."
Master went back to his place smiling at Jock's way of paying a
compliment.
The firing of the enemy had by this time slackened, and it was greatly
feared by our fine soldier lads that they had drawn off, and not waited
"to get their licks," as Jock phrased it.
Breakfast was now hastily served out, I sharing with master, who had
come round and sat down beside Jock and me.
Then by degrees the morning mists gathered up and up, till they lay only
like a grey cloud on the snow-clad mountain peaks, and we beheld the
Persian army drawn up in battle array ready and waiting for us.
It was a grand sight, Cracker, for the sun now shone gaily down on their
soldiers, in serried ranks of horse and foot.
They had not long to wait for us, children. But there was a lot of
marching and counter-marching of regiments and brigades, that I could
not understand, unless it was that our fellows were just showing off
their fine clothes.
But the tulzie soon commenced, and as I stuck to my seat on brave Jock's
back, my ears were deafened with the yelling and shouting and rattling
of musketry, and with the awful roar of the enemy's dread artillery.
On we marched, or rushed, and soon the fight was almost hand to hand,
and so horrible!
But the enemy could not stand the onslaught of our forces. They began
to give way and retire, and soon the battle became a rout. The Persians
left nearly a thousand dead on the field, and many more bodies lay in
every conceivable position along the route they had taken towards the
hills.
After our cavalry had chased them afar they returned, and the march was
commenced back towards Bushire.
It was a long, cold, wet, and weary one, but we saw the sea at last, and
never did soldiers stretch their tired limbs in camp, or make their tea
with greater pleasure, than did our poor fellows when they found
themselves once more in their entrenched position.
Some of our officers were buried next day, but I was so glad to think
that neither my dear master, nor Jock, nor I, were among the wounded.
Jock McNab was loud in his praises of what he was kind enough to call my
pluck and coolness in the presence of the foe.
"I wadna gie pussy for onything," he said, "and I'm sure enough she
brought us luck, for never a man fell near me, either dead or wounded."
This was my first battle then, Cracker, but it wasn't my last by any
means.
As master said, the enemy was beaten, but being beaten doesn't by any
means signify that they were conquered.
We remained quiet enough in camp now for many long monotonous days,
during which the enemy did not think of disturbing us.
More troops began to arrive from India. The ships lay out yonder at
anchor, but a high tumbling sea rolled in upon the beach, and it was
difficult indeed to communicate with the vessels, so that the poor
horses in camp began to suffer from hunger, and our own rations were
sometimes scant enough.
The north-west wind too, blew loud and fierce, and brought with it
clouds of dust, and a fine sort of sand that nothing on earth could keep
out of camp. The cold at night was still bitter, but we had tents now,
and I was cosy enough in master's arms.
They tell me that British soldiers and sailors are born grumblers.
Well, I suppose there is some truth in this; but I must say, Cracker,
our men never grumbled at the scantiness of their own rations, though
they pitied the horses, but they did grumble a little because the time
was passing on so monotonously, and there seemed no early chance of
having another fight with the Persian foe.
In fact, Cracker, the foe was getting insolent. By night we now began
to see his fires on the hills around, and, although he had not the
courage to attack us, he fired upon our outposts.
My master, I knew, was getting impatient as well as his men.
"I want to get farther on up country, pussy," he whispered to me one
evening; "up nearer the bonnie woods and bills where your heart and mine
dwell, Shireen, with your dear mistress Beebee."