Gil the Gunner, George Manville Fenn [fun books to read for adults txt] 📗

“You’re another.”

“So are you.”

“I am, am I?”

“Yes; a cocky overbearing bully. You want your comb cut, Gil Vincent.”

“Cut it, then, you miserable humbug. Take that.” Crack—thud!

My fist went home on Morton’s cheek, and almost simultaneously his flew out and struck me in the ribs. Crack—thud! Morton’s return sounding like an echo of my blow.

There was a buzz of excitement. Coats flew off; two of our fellows eagerly pressed forward to act as seconds; my shirt-sleeves were rolled up over my thin arms, and in another instant we two fellow-pupils were squaring at each other, and I was gathering myself up to deliver as hard a blow as I could when—

“Stop! halt!” came in a sharp harsh voice, and General Crucie, with the great scar upon his white forehead looking red and inflamed as it always did when he was angry, strode up, thumped down his thick malacca cane, so that the ferule went into the grass and it stood alone, while he looked from one to the other fiercely.

“Upon my word!” he cried. “Very pretty! Two gentlemen flying at each others’ throats like a couple of street boys. A regular blackguardly fight. I’m ashamed of you, gentlemen. What does it all mean?”

“Well, sir, it was like this,” began Hendry, my second.

“Silence, sir! I will not hear a word. I pretty well know what it all means. You, Vincent, as usual; that nasty overbearing temper of yours again. Is it utterly impossible for you to live in unity with your fellow-students?”

“No, sir; not if they would let me be, and not fasten quarrels on me,” I cried in an ill-used tone.

“Stuff, sir! rubbish, sir! nonsense, sir!” cried the general. “I know you better than you know yourself; and, mark my words, you will never succeed in your profession until you learn to behave like a gentleman. How can you expect to command men if you cannot command yourself. There, I’ll hear no more, for I’m sure you have been in the wrong.”

The general pointed in so unmistakable a manner that I walked off with my uniform jacket half on, slowly thrusting my arm into the vacant sleeve, and thinking bitterly, with my head bent and my forehead wrinkled up like that of an old man.

I was not long in reaching my little room, a favourite one amongst our fellows; and as I shut myself in, and locked the door, my conscience reproached me with certain passages in the past which led to my having that room, when a fellow-student gave way in my favour, and I don’t think it was from kindly feeling towards me.

“I’m a miserable, unhappy wretch,” I said, as I threw myself in a chair which resented the rough usage by creaking violently and threatening to break one leg. “Nobody likes me. I’m always getting into trouble, and every one will be glad when I am gone to Calcutta, Madras, or Bombay.”

I sat scowling down at the floor, thinking of how the others made friends and were regular companions, while I was almost avoided—at any rate, not sought out.

“Is it all my fault?” I thought; and that day I had a very long think as I wondered why I was so different from other fellows of my age. I believed I was affectionate, for I felt very miserable when I saw my father off with his regiment four years before, and he sailed for the Madras Presidency, and I went back home with my mind made up to work hard at my studies; to look well after my mother and Grace; and always to be a gentleman in every act and thought.

And as I sat there in the silence of my own room, I asked myself whether I had done exactly as my father had wished.

“I might have worked harder,” I owned. “I might have been more of a gentleman. But I did try.”

Then I began thinking that I had given my mother a good deal of trouble before she and Grace went out to join my father at Madras.

“But mamma did not mind,” I said to myself, for nothing could have been more loving than our parting, when I was so miserable at being left that I felt as if everything were at an end.

“The fellows don’t understand me,” I said at last. “And now if I try to be extra civil to any one of them, they all laugh and think I mean something—want to borrow money, or get another favour.”

This had been at the bottom of the quarrel that morning, and as I sat there thinking, I grew more and more roused, giving myself the credit of being shamefully ill-used by every one, from General Crucie and the professors, down to the newest comer, while the governor seemed to me to be the greatest offender.

“Boasts about understanding boys and young men,” I said bitterly, “and does not know how to be just. I wish I was out of it all, and could go away, so that I could be where people understood me, and—”

There was a sharp tap at the door, but I was too savage and sulky to answer, and there was a fresh tapping on the panel.

“Vincent, why don’t you answer? I know you are in there.”

It was the voice of my fellow-pupil with whom I had been about to fight, when the general came upon us.

“Well, what do you want?” I said sourly.

“The governor has sent me for you. Come along, look sharp. He wants you in his room.”

My temper bubbled up like the carbonic acid gas in a chemical experiment, and my fists involuntarily clenched.

“To go there and be rowed,” I thought; “and all through Morton. He might have let me off now after bullying me before the chaps. And then to send Morton!”

I stood quite still, frowning and angry, but all was still outside, and it was evident that, after delivering his message, Morton had run down again.

“A prig!” I muttered. “Lucky for him he didn’t stop. I’d have punched his head if I’d been expelled for it.”

I crossed the room, and threw open the door to go down, for, amiable as the governor always was to us, he was most stern and exacting in having all his orders obeyed with military promptitude, and there stood Morton waiting with, as I thought, a derisive smile on his face.

But I altered my opinion directly, for he held out his hand.

“I say, Gil, old chap,” he said, “I’m sorry we fell out, and I’m jolly glad the old boy came and stopped us. Pretty pair of fools we should have looked by this time, with black eyes and swollen noses.—I was wrong. Shake hands.”

A few moments before I could have struck him; but now I was so utterly overset by his frank manner, that it was not my nose which swelled up, but my throat, so that I could hardly speak as I caught hold of his hand and held it with all my force.

“No,” I said huskily, “it wasn’t your fault. Mine. I’ve got such a beastly temper.”

“Tchah! not you. Come on down; it’s all right now.”

“Not quite,” I said grimly. “I’ve got to face the gov., and have another dose. Has he given you yours?”

“No! ’Tisn’t that Post’s in, and he has had despatches or something. He had a great sealed paper in his hand when he told me to fetch you.”

“What?” I cried excitedly. “’Tisn’t—?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it is,” he said. “Come on.”

I felt as if all my breath had been taken away. The blood flushed right up to my temples; there was a singing in my ears, and my hands grew moist in their palms with excitement; but I could not speak as we hurried down.

“You are a lucky one,” continued Morton. “I say, you do know some one in the India House, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said. “Uncle Joe’s on the board.”

“That’s it, then. You’ve got your commission, as safe as wheat, as our old coachman used to say. I salute you, sir. You’ll be a Lord Clive one of these days, before I get my captaincy.”

“Oh, nonsense!” I cried, and then all seemed to be one buzz of confusion, till I reached General Crude’s study, and found him walking up and down the room. He had left his table with his gold snuff-box in one hand, his pinched-together finger and thumb of the other holding a tiny modicum of snuff, which he applied to his nose as I entered, and he stopped short before me.

“Oh, there you are, Vincent,” he said in his prompt military way, and I noticed that the trouble of a short time before was all put aside. “You know what I want, I suppose?”

“I can’t help guessing, sir.”

“No, I suppose not. You must have plenty of interest, my dear lad, and I congratulate you. Here you are appointed to the artillery. Calcutta.”

“Ah!” I ejaculated; and in those busy moments as I stood looking right ahead out of the study into my future, I felt as if young, slight, and youthful as I was, boyhood was dropping away, and I was going to be a man to command men.

“It’s too early, Vincent,” he said, shaking his head, and tapping his snuff-box; “much too early. You are such a boy. Why, you’ll be the youngest officer in the service, though you do look old. I should have liked you to stay with us a couple of years longer.”

“Yes, sir,” I faltered. “I’m afraid I’ve got on very badly.”

“No,” he said sharply, “that’s it; you have not got on badly with your studies. From every professor I have had the same report, that your papers are excellent. That’s where it is. You were nearly at the head of the list in the artillery, and it was only just that you should be appointed. But, all the same, you dog, you’ve influential people at your back. That old uncle the director. I hope one of these days both services will give their promotions and appointments by merit alone.”

“Then you think it unjust, sir, that one so young as I am should get his commission?” I said warmly.

“No, I do not, Vincent. Don’t be so peppery. What a temper you have, sir. You must master that. I think, in this instance, the interest has been well exercised. I have had plenty of inquiries about you, and I’ve been obliged to speak well of you always.”

I coloured a little.

“You’re too young, but they want officers badly, and you’ll soon get older, and I have no doubt will make a good soldier, if you command your temper. You ought to have been in the engineers, though.”

“Oh no, sir,” I said eagerly. “I want to be a gunner. Is the commission for the Horse Artillery?”

He laughed and took snuff.

“Why, you conceited young greenhorn!” he said good-humouredly. “Has all the teaching of the Honourable the East India Company’s profession been so poor here at Brandscombe, that you have not learned that it is quite a promotion to get into the Horse Brigade. That they are picked men from the foot—men full of dash—who can afford to keep the best of horses, and who are ready to ride at anything.”

“My uncle would let me have any horses I want, sir,” I said; “and I can ride.”

“Like a gentleman in the park,” he said contemptuously.

“No, sir,” I said warmly.