Gil the Gunner, George Manville Fenn [fun books to read for adults txt] 📗
- Author: George Manville Fenn
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I was so busy during those early days drilling, and learning my various duties, that the time went very fast. I had my servants engaged, and felt rather ashamed to have so many; but the captain said that they were absolutely necessary, and the lieutenant that there were not half enough. He found terrible fault, too, with my horse the first day I was mounted, and on parade; and this, too, after I had tried the handsome dark arched-necked creature several times, and found that it carried me delightfully, being one of those elastic short-stepping animals, whose pace suited so well with the military style of riding.
“Well,” said Barton, sourly, “I gave you my advice, and offered to help you. Don’t blame me if you get ridden over one of these days.”
I was nervous enough before he spoke that morning, and naturally felt a good deal more so afterwards; and during the evolutions in which I took part for the first time, with a stern-looking sergeant close by me to help me through, it seemed to me as if my brother-officer’s words were about to be fulfilled. For in my confusion during a gallop I managed to get where I had no business to be, and turned sharply round to see that the men with the gun were pretty close to me before they reined in. To complete my misery, the major in charge of the battery rode up, and delivered a few pretty sharp adjurations to me and to the sergeant.
I did not feel very comfortable that morning as I rode up to the quarters, dismounted, covered with perspiration and dust, and saw my horse led away; neither did I feel much better after my bath and change, as I hesitated whether I should go over to Captain Brace’s rooms, he having invited me to breakfast.
“I shall never manage it,” I thought. Every one was laughing at me, and it was dreadful to be rowed like that by the major.
I threw myself despondently in my chair, and had quite given up going, when Captain Brace’s servant came round to say that his master was waiting breakfast.
There was nothing else for it but to go, and I followed the man to the bright-looking, cool room where Brace was seated.
“Come, my lad,” he cried, “I should have thought you would be ravenous. Hallo! What’s wrong?”
I looked at him with my face all in wrinkles, and sank down despondently in the seat to which he pointed.
“Tired out?” he said.
I shook my head.
“Then, pray, what’s the matter?”
“Matter?” I cried bitterly. “You saw what a fool I made of myself this morning.”
His face wore a peculiar look as he shook his head.
“No,” he said; “I was not there that time. What did you do?”
“Not there! Why, you saw me get all wrong, and the men nearly ride me down, as Barton said they would, with that horse.”
“I thought so,” said Brace drily. “How curious it is that a prophecy of evil always makes more impression than one of good.”
“I don’t understand you,” I said.
“My words were simple, my lad. Barton ran that horse down because he did not buy it for you. Now, naturally enough, I kept my eye upon you all through the drill, so as to see how you would get on. Your horse behaved admirably; and I should be ready to give you a couple of hundred rupees more for it than it cost; while, for a beginner, I thought you did remarkably well. Here: have some coffee.”
“Well!” I cried, excitedly, “when I was nearly ridden over!”
“You were not nearly ridden over; nothing of the kind.”
“But you heard what the major said.”
“Yes. He shouts pretty sharply sometimes. You were out of your place, of course.”
“Oh yes; I was out of my place, of course,” I said bitterly. “I feel completely disgraced.”
“Go on with your breakfast, boy,” cried Brace, with a good-humoured laugh. “Disgraced! You, a mere calf in just learning your drill. If you had been in the troop for four or five years, and made such a blunder, why, it would have been rather disgraceful; but for you! Why, we are quite proud of the rapid way you are picking up the evolutions.”
“No: you are saying that to comfort me,” I cried bitterly.
“I have a good many faults, Vincent,” he said quietly; “but I don’t think insincerity is one of them. If I say a thing to you, my lad, pleasant or unpleasant, you may take it for granted that I believe it to be honest and true.”
“But the major? What he said to me before all the men was dreadful.”
“Not at all. He was bound to say it. He might have spoken less harshly; but—wonderful!—here he is.”
For just then I nearly jumped out of my chair on hearing the major’s voice asking for Captain Brace, and the next moment he had stridden into the room.
“How nice and cool you are here,” he said. “Ah, Vincent, my lad, feel a bit sore after our gallop?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, gloomily, as the major seated himself at the table, helped himself to coffee and curry, and began to eat.
“You’ll soon get over that. It’s rough work at first; but use is second nature. I say, that’s a very pretty little nag of yours; rather slight, but quite up to your weight. She gallops splendidly. Here, I’m regularly breakfasting. I wanted to have a few words with you, so I came over, as my wife was not down.”
“Shall I go, sir?” I said, rising.
“No, no, my dear boy; sit still.”
I stared. Not an hour before he was bullying me fiercely before the whole troop.
Brace saw my face, and laughed.
“Vincent is in the doldrums,” he said.
“What about?” grumbled the major, with his mouth full of curry.
“You asked him if he was sore. He is: about the thrashing you gave him this morning.”
“Bah! nonsense! Good lesson for you, boy. You won’t make that mistake again. You are getting on capitally. Wish we had a couple more of your breed.”
“There, Vincent,” said Brace; “what do you say now?”
I could not say anything, only feel as if the morning had suddenly become bright and joyous; and I began to make a wonderful breakfast; while the major chatted over a few matters connected with the discipline of the troop and the behaviour of some of the men.
“Well,” said Brace, as soon as the major had gone; for he jumped up suddenly on receiving a message from his own quarters, leaving his half-eaten curry and a newly filled cup of coffee.
“The general down,” he cried. “Bring Vincent over this evening for an hour or two.”
“Well,” said Brace, “how are the spirits now?”
“Oh, better,” I said, smiling; “but I do wish I was more clever.”
“Rubbish! Don’t be impatient. A soldier can’t learn his duties in a month; and when he has learned them, it requires incessant practice to keep up to the mark; and will need,” he continued sadly, “to work hard; and, by the way, pay all the attention you can to your sword practice and fencing. I would not miss any of the pistol practice either.”
I looked at him curiously, for there seemed to be a meaning underlying his words.
“You need not worry about the riding-school; you can’t help getting on well in that. What are you looking at?”
“You don’t think there is going to be war, do you?”
“I think a soldier ought always to be ready in case there is,” he replied evasively.
“Yes; but not war out here. You don’t think Russia means—”
“Hallo! Who has been talking to you about Russia? No, Vincent, my boy, I do not; but I should not be surprised if we have a bit of trouble in one of the provinces before long. I hope not; but we are always having a little affair with some native prince. However, if we do, it may not affect us. Our troop may be a thousand miles away. India is a big place.”
“Yes, and isn’t it wonderful that so few Englishmen should keep so many millions of the natives in subjection?”
“In some respects, yes, my lad; in others, no. The great power comes from the fact that India embraces many nations who do not all think alike, neither are they of the same religion; and hence if we had trouble with one nation, the possibility is that we could bring some of the others to fight upon our side. But matters are not as they should be, Vincent; and I cannot help having forebodings now and then. We do not treat the people as we should. There is a little too much of the iron heel of the despot on their necks.”
I thought of Barton’s treatment of the syce, and of many similar incidents wherever I had been since I came out, and then forgot every one but the fact that the post had come in, and with it a letter from my father, enclosing two others from my mother and sister.
“Where are they now?” asked Brace.
“In the north-west provinces,” I said eagerly, “at Nussoor.”
“Some hundred miles away, Vincent. You are not likely to meet them for some time to come. You will have to introduce me to your people when you do.”
My work was hard at Rambagh, for I had no measured hours. I was ambitious too; eager to master my profession, and in constant dread of exciting derision by making some mistake.
Perhaps some lads of my age would not have worked so hard, but would have contented themselves by acquiring the necessary knowledge slowly; but that did not accord with my ideas, and I eagerly attended all the early morning drills, and though the sergeant sourly said that I wanted a deal of setting up, and the riding-master laughingly told me that I looked like a tailor on horseback, I suppose I got on pretty well. At any rate, I was able to keep my place without making many outrageous blunders.
I suppose it was a good deal due to the petting bestowed upon him, but I found my charger—the Sheik—as I called him, at Captain Brace’s suggestion, grew quite attached to me, and would follow me like a dog.
And in spite of the intense heat, it was a pleasant life when I grew more used to my work, and less conscious and afraid of ridicule. I had my servants, who were very obedient and servile, but not at all attentive. I was too easy with them, Barton said, and he told me that a good kicking would do them good. Certainly his men flew to obey every word, and shrank at every look.
“And hate him like poison,” Captain Brace said bitterly.
But they did not show their hatred, if Brace was right; and no officer rode out to parade in better trim than Barton.
One hot day, as I was seated panting at my shuttered window, I saw that Barton’s way of treating the syces was imitated by his subordinates, for one of the Serjeants, for some reason or another, raised his hand to strike a white-clothed figure across the enclosure, but altered his mind, and kicked him instead, with the result that the man shrank away, but made no sign, and I could not help thinking what a tyrant the white man was to the conquered black.
I don’t know how it was, but as I lay back in my chair weary after a heavy morning drill, and drowsy from the effects of a good breakfast, I kept my eyes on the white-clothed figure whom the serjeant had kicked. He had stood like a statue till the serjeant had gone into the barracks, but as soon as the officer’s back was turned, I saw him glance round sharply, and then he appeared to be speaking to the natives near him in a quick excited way.
From where I
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