"A Guilty conscience needs no accuser," said Archie Maine to himself.
"There's a splendid proverb. It can't mean a wigging this time. But if
that pompous old pump, that buckled-up basha, lets the Major know that
he caught poor old Pegg in my room to-day, I'm sure to get a lecture
about making too free with the men instead of going about amongst them
perched up upon metaphorical stilts. Well, whatever he wants to see me
about, it can't be for a wigging, or else he wouldn't have summoned me
just close upon soup-and-'tater call."
The smart-looking young subaltern drew himself up, looking his military
best, as he made for the Major's quarters, before which, in light
undress uniform, a private was marching up and down, crossing the
doorway and the windows of the mess-room, through which the lamps of the
dinner-table shone, as they were being lit by the servants. The
regimental glass and plate were beginning to glitter on the table, while
a soft, warm breeze was rustling the tropical leaves and beginning to
cool the atmosphere, as it swept from the surrounding jungle through the
widely opened casements.
"Yes! Come in!" came in a loud, bluff, rather rich voice; and the next
minute Archie was face to face with the fine-looking, white-haired,
florid Major in command of the infantry detachment stationed at Campong
Dang in support of Her Majesty's Resident, Sir Charles Dallas, whose
duty it was to instruct the Malay Rajah of Pahpah how to rule his
turbulent bearers of spear and kris and wearers of sarong and baju, in
accordance with modern civilisation, and without putting a period to
their lives for every offence by means of the sudden insertion of an
ugly-looking, wavy weapon before throwing them to the ugliest reptiles
that ever haunted a muddy stream.
"Ah! Hum! Yes."
There was a pause in the strange salute, and, "'Tis a row, then," said
Archie to himself. "You received my despatch, Mr Maine?"
"Yes, sir."
"And of course, sir, you are perfectly aware of my reasons for summoning
you?"
"No, sir," replied Archie.
"What! Now, that's what I intensely dislike, Mr Maine. If there is
anything that annoys, irritates, or makes me dissatisfied with the men--
the gentlemen under my command, it is evasion, shuffling, shirking, or
prevarication."
At the beginning of this speech the young officer felt nervous and
troubled with a feeling of anxiety, but his commanding officer's tone
and words sent the blood flushing up into his face, and he replied
warmly:
"I beg your pardon, sir, but I am neither shuffling nor prevaricating
when I tell you that I do not know why you have sent for me." Then to
himself,--
"He could not have known about the Sergeant, for that was after he had
sent his note."
He had time to say this to himself, for the Major was staring at him in
amazement.
"What! What! What!" he exclaimed. "How--how dah you, sir? I'd have
you to know that when I address my subordinates--ahem!--arrrum!--I--that
is--hum--dear me, how confoundedly you have grown like your father,
Archibald! Just his manner. I--that is--well, look here, sir; I have
been very much put out about you. I promised my old comrade that I
would do the best that I could in the way of helping you on and making
you a useful officer and a thorough gentleman, and you know, between
men, Archibald Maine, it has not been quite the thing. This is not the
first time I have had to speak to you and complain of your conduct."
"No, sir," said the lad in rather a sulky tone; "and when I was in fault
I never shuffled or prevaricated."
"Never, Archie, my lad," said the Major energetically. "It was bad form
of me, but I was angry with your father's son. My words were
ill-chosen, and there--there--I apologise."
"Oh no, sir!" cried the lad, warming up and speaking excitedly; "there
is no need for that. I suppose I have been in the wrong, but I did not
really know what I had been doing when you sent your letter."
"Of course you did not, my boy; but--er--I was not thinking of that. It
was about your conduct generally, and I had made up my mind to have you
here and give you what you would call a wigging, Archie--eh?--wigging,
sir! Dreadfully boyish expression!--and then, on second thoughts, I
said to myself, `Much better to have the lad in quietly, break the ice
and that sort of thing, tell him what I wanted to talk about, and then
make him sit by me at the mess, and put it to him quietly over a glass
of wine.' Understand, my lad?"
Archie's lips parted to speak, but the recollection of many old
kindnesses began to crowd up so that he could not trust his voice, and
he only nodded.
"That's right. You see, my lad, your father and I were boys together--
not perfect either. We used to quarrel frightfully. Well, sir,
something inside me began to remind me of old times, and make apologies
for you, and I was going to talk to you about being an officer and a
gentleman--and dignity of manner, and impressing yourself upon your
men--just point out that an officer can be kind to his lads and slacken
the discipline a little sensibly without losing tone or touch, but there
must be a proper feeling between officer and man. An officer need not
be a bully and a tyrant, but he must be firm. His men must respect him,
and see that the man who leads them knows his duty and is brave almost
to a fault; and knowing this, every man who is worth his salt will
follow him even to the death if duty calls. It is a grand position,
Archie, my lad--that of being a leader of men--and it is shared with the
General by the youngest subaltern who wears the Queen's scarlet. See
what I mean?"
"Yes, sir," said the lad in a deep, low voice.
"Well, sir," almost shouted the Major, "that's what I was going to say
to you, sir, over a glass of wine to-night, and put it to you that it
was quite time that you, a young man grown, should put away boyish
things and come to an end of tricks and pranks and youthful follies, and
take upon you and show that you are worthy of the great birthright--
manhood, when--confound it all! I was nearly breaking out swearing!--in
comes to me that--hang him!--that overbearing bully--Yah! Tut, tut,
tut, tut, tut!--it put me out dreadfully, and I am speaking in haste,
for Ripsy is a fine, trustworthy man--my best non-com--to complain to me
about you making a chum, a regular companion, of that confounded,
low-bred cockney rascal, Pegg. Hang him! I'll have his peg sharpened
and make him spin in a more upright manner before I have done with him!
Ripsy told me that the fellow was on fatigue-work--takes advantage of
the freedom of his position to sneak off to your quarters to hatch some
prank or mischief or another; and I had to listen to his complaint and--
confound him!--to answer his question, `Is it right for a subaltern to
encourage a low-bred rascal like that to come to his quarters?' What do
you say?"
"It was my fault, sir, entirely."
"Yes; and that's your fault too, Archibald Maine. You take a fancy to
and make a companion of a private who bears the worst character in this
detachment. You see even now, sir, you have made so much of a companion
of him that you are ready to take the blame for his fault."
"In this case rightly, sir," said Archie, speaking with firmness. "I
had jerked your note out of the window, and as the poor fellow passed--"
"Poor fellow!" cried the Major irritably. "There, again!"
"I told him to pick it up and bring it in," continued Archie firmly; and
the Major grunted, for he was evidently cooling down.
"There! Humph! Dinner," grunted the Major again. "Now, quick! What
have you got to say?"
Archie was silent for a few moments, for the simple reason that he could
not speak, only stand trying to gaze steadily in the eyes of the fine
old officer, who was watching him intently with a look that forced him
to speak at last; but even then his voice shook a little, in spite of
his efforts to make it firm and loud. Then the word that had struggled
for utterance came, and it was in Latin:
"Peccavi."
It was only that word, but it was enough to make the old Major lean
forward, clap one hand on the lad's shoulder, and half-whisper:
"Spoken like your father's son!" and then, as the door behind him
opened, he half-shouted, "Coming!" Then to his companion, "Now, my
lad--dinner!"