If Richard Frayne had stopped to look back, his career would have been
very different; but he had fully and stubbornly made up his mind, and he
looked forward as he walked on and on through the apparently endless
streets of what he found to be a trio of towns; and as he approached the
great barracks he was conscious of the shrieking of fifes and the roll
of drums, which suddenly ceased as a crowd of rough-looking boys and
people came along a side-lane, down which, and rapidly approaching, was
the shining and glittering of a long line of bayonets, while in front
came the gleam of brass instruments.
As the head of the regiment marching into the town reached the main
street, _boom_--_boom_--_boom_--came the heavy thunder of the big drum;
and then, in full burst of the brass instruments, the first bars of the
grand March from _Tannhauser_, sending the first thrill of pleasure he
had felt for days through Richard's breast, as he naturally fell into
step and marched along side by side with the men.
But the thrill soon passed off, and as he tramped on he could not help
thinking, in a low-spirited way, that the men looked dusty and fagged.
The chalky white powder clung to their blue trousers and scarlet
coatees; their shakoes, too, were whitened, and their hot faces were
grimed and coated with perspiration and dust.
In spite of the music, there was something wanting; and in a few minutes
Richard Frayne slackened his pace, so that the regiment went on past
him, and he followed more slowly, for there was nothing attractive about
the men.
But he had not come down there spurred on by any boyish admiration for
the army. His was a set purpose, and, after letting the marching
regiment disappear, with a peculiar sensation of sadness affecting him
as he stole a glance--he could hardly bear to look--at the officers, he
turned off along one of the side-streets and passed through the great
gates of one of the barracks. Here he could see a round-faced, fat man,
whose clothes looked ridiculously tight, hurrying to and fro before a
double line of men in flannel jackets, and at whom he seemed to be
barking loudly.
He was a peculiar-looking man for a soldier, suggesting, as he did at a
distance, an animated pincushion, one huge pin being apparently stuck
right through his chest, though a second glance revealed the fact that
it was only a cane with a gilt head passed, skewer fashion, in front of
his elbows and behind his back.
Then a few evolutions were gone through, and Richard Frayne thought the
men looked a melancholy set of dummies, more like plasterers than
soldiers, till at the loudly-shouted word "Dis--miss!" they trotted off
readily enough.
Just then a couple of sergeants marched a squad of twelve or fourteen
shabby-looking young fellows into the barrack yard, the whole party
wearing the ribbons of the recruit, and toward this group, as it they
were an attraction, the fat drill-sergeant and some half-dozen more from
different parts of the yard walked slowly up.
Richard's pulses beat fast as he stood looking on, conscious the while
that a tall, keen-looking non-commissioned officer who passed him was
watching him curiously.
Then followed a little loud talking and laughing, and the party of
recruits were marched across the yard and disappeared, leaving the group
of sergeants chatting together, till one of them seemed to have said
something to his companions, who, as if by one consent, turned to stare
at Richard Frayne.
"Now for it," muttered the lad, and, drawing a deep breath, he pulled
himself together, feeling as if he were going to execution, and walked
straight toward them, feeling the blood come and go from his cheeks.
The men stood fast, looking at him in a half-amused, good-tempered way,
as if he was not the first by many a one who had approached them in that
fashion, and the keen-faced man said in quick, decisive tones the words
which ended one of the boy's difficulties--
"Well, my lad, want to 'list?"
Only those few hours ago and people touched their hats to him and said,
"Sir Richard;" now it was, "Well, my lad, want to 'list?" But he
answered promptly--
"Yes; I want to enlist."
"Hah!" ejaculated the sergeant, looking him over keenly, and grasping
him by the arm as if he were a horse for sale. "How old are you?"
"Turned seventeen."
"Hah! Yes," said the sergeant, with a keen look; "old story, eh? Run
away from home?"
Richard's face turned scarlet.
"That'll do, my lad; don't tell any crackers about it. See these chaps
just brought in?"
"Yes."
"Well, there isn't one who doesn't stand two or three inches higher than
you, and is as many more round the chest. Men are plentiful now of the
right sort. Why, you'd look as thin as a rake in our clothes."
"But I'm young, and I shall grow," said Richard, hurriedly.
"Then go home and grow bigger and wiser, my lad; and if you still want
to join the service, come and ask for me, Sergeant Price, 205th
Fusiliers, and I'll talk to you."
"Only he might be at the Cape," said another of the sergeants, smiling.
"Or in India," said another; and there was a general laugh, which
irritated the would-be recruit, and, feeling completely stunned by his
reception, after taking it for granted that all he had to do was to hold
out his hand when a shilling would be placed therein: after that he was
a soldier.
Giving a sharp, comprehensive glance round, he turned upon his heels and
walked away towards the entrance, feeling ready to go back indignantly,
for there was a roar of laughter apparently at his expense.
"Am I such a contemptible-looking boy?" he thought; and then he felt
better: for there was evidently someone following him, and the laughter
was not at his expense, but at that of the man coming in his direction,
for someone cried--
"Wait a bit, Lambert!"
"Yes; steady there, Dan'l!"
"Hi! you sir, don't you stand anything. He eats and drinks more than is
good for him already."
"I say, Brummy, take him to the King's Head, and we'll join you."
"Dan'l and Lambert," thought Richard. "Why, it's the fat sergeant
coming after me; they're laughing at him!"
But he did not turn his head to see, only went steadily on towards the
gate, with his pulses beating rapidly once more, for the hope rose now
that this man had repented and was, perhaps, going to enlist him, after
all. Telling himself that it would be better to seem careless and
independent, he kept on to the gate, passed out, and heard the steps
still behind him, but so close now that he noticed a rather thick
breathing. Then he started as if thrilled by an electric touch, for
there came in sharp tones--
"Hold hard, my lad!" and then, in military fashion, "Halt! Right about
face!"
Richard obeyed the order on the instant, and in such thorough soldierly
style that the fat sergeant stared.
"Humph! Volunteers!" he muttered: and then, coming close up, he looked
pleasantly in the lad's face, and clapped him on the shoulder. "So you
wanted to 'list, did you?" he said.
"Yes. Will you have me?"
"No, my lad," said the sergeant, smiling. "I only wanted a word with
you before you go into the town. I don't want to pump you. We can see
plain enough. We often get young customers like you."
"I didn't know I was too young," said Richard, hoarsely.
"Nobody said you were, my lad; but you're not our sort. We want a
rougher breed than you."
"Very well," said Richard.
"No, it isn't, my lad. You take a bit of good advice: be off back
home--sharp! Don't stop in the town here, or you'll get picked up.
There's a lot outside ready to be down upon you, and they'll humbug and
promise everything till they've sucked every shilling you've got out of
you and made you sell your watch."
Richard's hand went sharply to his chain, and the sergeant laughed.
"I know what it is: bit of a row at home, and you've cut off to 'list;
and, if you could have had your way, you'd have done what you'd have
given anything to undo in a month."
There was something so frank and honest in the plump, good-humoured face
before him that Richard's hand went out directly.
"Shake hands? Of course," said the sergeant, grasping the lad's.
"White hand!--Ring on it!" he cried, laughing, "There! go back home."
Richard snatched his hand back, colouring deeply, like a girl.
"Thank you!" he said. "You mean well, sergeant; but you don't know
all."
"And don't want to. There, don't stop in the town; get off at once."
"I'm going to have some dinner," said Richard. "Come and have something
with me."
"Had mine, my lad," said the sergeant, laughing. "What's the use of me
giving you good advice if you don't take it. There, good-bye, my lad.
Banks was quite right."
He nodded, faced round, and marched away, leaving Richard Frayne gazing
at the black future before him as he muttered--
"Beaten! Why did I fight my way out of the flood?"
His next thought made him shudder: for a river was below there in the
town, and he had crossed a bridge, beneath which the deep water flowed
fast to where there was oblivion and rest.
He spoke mentally once more:
"Why not?"
As Richard Frayne gazed after the fat sergeant he failed to see the
ridiculously fat back in the tight jacket for somehow he was looking
inside at the man's heart.
"But he does not know--he does not know," muttered the lad, as he turned
now and walked back toward the town street, down which he hurried with
the intention of finding a quiet place where he could have a meal, and
turned at last into a coffee-house, where he ordered tea and
bread-and-butter, drinking the former with avidity, for he was
feverishly thirsty, but the first mouthful of food seemed as if it would
choke him, and he took no more.
Half an hour later he had another cup of tea, for his thirst seemed
greater, and after that he went and wandered about the town, finding
most rest in the shade of the great ruined Castle Keep, where the
jackdaws sailed round, and cawed at him as if they were old friends from
Primchilsea who recognised him and called out to their companions that
he was below.
"What should he do," he thought; "what should he do?" For his plan had
been completely checked, and in the most unexpected way.
He was sick at heart and faint in body, but his spirit was not crushed.
He had laid his hand to the plough, and if a hundred good-tempered
well-meaning fat sergeants came or gave their advice he could not look
back. No; he must sleep at Ratcham that night, and make for Quitnesbury
in the morning. There was a cavalry depot there; and if he failed
again, he could go on to Ranstone.
"There must be regiments where they would take me," he muttered, as he
walked back toward the town in the pleasant sunny evening; and, as if
attracted by the place, he made his way again towards the barracks,
thinking of the fat sergeant, and in his utter loneliness feeling a
yearning to meet him again for a friendly chat, if it were possible.
"What did they call him--Lambert?" thought Richard. "Absurd! That was
only banter on the part of his companions. I wonder whether I shall
ever see him again!"