Soldiers of the Queen Part 28

At length a door was reached, in front of which the orderly paused with, "Here you are!" Jack entered, and made his first acquaintance with his future home--the barrack-room.

It was large and lofty, with whitewashed walls and a floor of bare boards. A row of wooden tables and forms ran down the centre, above which was a hanging shelf for the men's plates and basins. Around the room were sixteen small iron bedsteads, each made in such a fas.h.i.+on that one half closed up under the other, the mattress when not in use being rolled up and secured by a strap, with the blankets and sheets folded on the top; the remaining portion of the couch, on which the rug was laid, serving for a seat. Above the bed were shelves and hooks for accoutrements, and other possessions. Above some of the cots small pictures or photographs were hung, which served to relieve the monotony of the whitewash; but these, like the rest of Tommy Atkins's property, were arranged with that scrupulous care and neatness which is so characteristic of all that concerns the service from baton to b.u.t.ton-stick.

At the moment Jack entered, his future room-mates were busy round one end of the tables, a.s.sisting the orderly man in the task of pouring soup from a large can into the small basins, and making a similar equal division of the meat and potatoes. The new-comer's arrival, therefore, was scarcely noticed, except by the sergeant, who told him to sit down, and saw that he received a share of the rations. The fare was certainly rough, and seemed in keeping with the table manners of the rank and file of the Royal Blanks.h.i.+re; they forbore to "trouble" each other for things out of reach, but secured them with a dive and a grab.

"Here, chuck us the rooty!" was the request when one needed bread; while though substantial mustard and pepper pots adorned the board, the salt was in the primitive form of a lump, which was pushed about from man to man, and sc.r.a.ped down with the dinner knives.

But Jack had not come to barracks expecting a _table d'hote_ dinner of eight or nine courses, served by waiters in evening dress, and he set to work with a good grace on what was set before him. The remarks addressed to him, if a trifle blunt, were good-natured enough, and he replied to them in the same spirit. His comrades evidently remarked from the first that he was a cut above the ordinary recruit; but he was wise enough to avoid showing any airs, and soon saw that this line of conduct was appreciated.

The meal was in progress when there was a sharp rap, and the door was opened.

"'Tenshun!" The men laid down their knives and forks, and rose to their feet.

"Dinners all right here?"

"Yes, sir."

"All present?"

"All present, sir." The orderly officer glanced round the room, and then turned and walked out.

"'E's a gentleman, is Mr. Lawson," murmured one of the men; "'e always shuts the door behind 'im." Jack's eye followed the figure of the lieutenant as he rejoined the orderly sergeant in the pa.s.sage. It was not so much the sash and sword, and neat, blue patrol jacket, as the cheery voice and pleasant sunburnt face, which had attracted our hero's attention; somehow these reminded him of Valentine, and turned his thoughts back to his old friend. He wondered how his cousin looked in the same uniform. Well, well, however wide and deep the gulf might be which the doings of the last two days had placed between them, they were, in a way, reunited; for the service was the same, whatever difference there might be in shoulder-straps.

Dinner over, some of the men made down their beds for a nap, while others announced their intention "to do some soldiering," a term which implied the cleaning and polis.h.i.+ng of accoutrements.

Sergeant Sparks, the non-commissioned officer in charge of the room, had a few friendly words with Jack, told him what he would have to do on the following day, and advised him in the meantime to make himself as comfortable as he could. "Here," he added, turning to a private, "just show this man his cot, and explain to him how to keep his bedding; you may want a good turn yourself some time."

The soldier obeyed readily enough. Jack had already caught his eye several times during dinner, and now followed him into a corner of the room, resolved if possible to patch up a friends.h.i.+p. In the carrying out of this intention he was destined to experience a startling surprise.

The man paused before one of the end beds, and began to unfasten the strap of the mattress.

"I didn't think of meeting you here, Mr. Fenleigh."

Jack started and stared at the speaker in silent astonishment.

"You remember me, sir?--Joe Crouch."

"What! Joe Crouch, who used to work at Brenlands?"

"Yes, sir; Joe Crouch as stole the pears," answered the soldier, smiling. "I never expected to find you 'listin' in the army, sir. I suppose Miss Fenleigh ain't aware of what you're doin'?"

"Oh, no!" exclaimed the other eagerly. "Promise me you'll never tell any one at Brenlands where I am--swear you won't."

"Very well, sir," replied Joe Crouch, calmly proceeding to unroll the mattress and make down the bed.

"For goodness' sake, drop that _sir_. Look here, Joe: I'm a lame dog, down on my luck, and no good to anybody; but we were friendly years ago, and if you'll have me for a comrade now, I'll do my best to be a good one."

Joe flung down the bedding, and held out his big, brown hand.

"That I will!" he answered. "You did the square thing by me once, and now I'll see you through; don't you fret."

Tea in barracks was evidently a very informal meal, of which no great account was taken. As Jack sat down to his bowl and chunk of bread, Joe Crouch pushed a screw of paper in front of him, which on examination proved to contain a small pat of b.u.t.ter.

"What's this?" asked Jack.

"Fat," answered Joe, shortly. "From the canteen," he added.

"Then you've paid for it, and--look here--you've got none yourself."

"Don't want any," answered Joe, breaking up a crust and dropping it into his tea. "There you are. That's what's called a 'floatin'

battery.'"

In the evening most of the men went out. Jack, however, preferred to remain where he was, and pa.s.sed the time reading a paper he had brought with him, at one of the tables. Sergeant Sparks came up to him and chatted pleasantly for half an hour. He wore a ribbon at his breast, and had stirring stories to tell of the Afghan war, and Roberts' march to Candahar. About half-past eight the men began to return from their walks and various amus.e.m.e.nts, and the barrack-room grew more noisy. At half-past nine the roll was called, and the orders read out for the following day, and Jack was not sorry when the time came to turn in.

Crouch came over to see if he understood the preparation of his cot.

"The feathers in these 'ere beds grew on rather a large bird," remarked Joe, referring to the straw mattress, "but they're soft enough when you come off a spell of guard duty or a day's manoeuvrin'."

The bugle sounded the long, melancholy G, and the orderly man turned off the gas. Our hero lay awake for some time listening to the heavy breathing of his new comrades, and then turned over and fell asleep.

The bright morning suns.h.i.+ne was streaming in through the big windows when the clear, ringing notes of reveille and the cheery strains of "Old Daddy Longlegs" roused him to consciousness of where he was.

"Now then, my lads, show a leg there!" cried the sergeant.

Jack stretched and yawned. Yes, it was certainly a rough path, but his mind was made up to tread it with a good heart, and this being the case, he was not likely to turn back.

CHAPTER XVI.

ON ACTIVE SERVICE.

"A voice cried out, 'I declare here is the tin soldier!'"--_The Brave Tin Soldier_.

A brilliant, clear sky overhead, and such a scorching sun that the air danced with the heat, as though from the blast of a furnace; surely this could not be the twenty-fifth of December!

But Christmas Day it was--Christmas Day in the camp at Korti.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "It was Christmas Day in the camp at Korti."]

Among the pleasant groves of trees which bordered the steep banks of the Nile glistened the white tents of the Camel Corps. Still farther back from the river lay fields of gra.s.s and patches of green dhurra; and behind these again an undulating waste of sand and gravel, dotted here and there with scrub and rock, and stretching away to the faintly-discerned hills of the desert. The shade of the trees tempered the heat, making a pleasant change after the roasting, toilsome journey up country.

Here, though hardly to be recognized with their ragged clothing and unshaven faces, was gathered a body of men who might be regarded as representing the flower of England's army--Life Guards, Lancers, Dragoons, Grenadiers, Highlanders, and linesmen from many a famous foot regiment; all were there, ready to march and fight shoulder to shoulder in order to rescue Gordon from his perilous position in Khartoum.

Every day the numbers in camp had been gradually growing larger, fresh batches of troops arriving either on camels or in boats. A whole fleet of these "whalers" lay moored along the bank of the Nile; the usual quiet of the river being continually broken by the dog-like panting of steam launches hurrying up and down the stream.

Friendly natives, clad in loose s.h.i.+rts and skull-caps, wandered through the lines, gazing wonderingly at all they saw; while in strange contrast to their unintelligible jabberings, rose the familiar _patois_ of the barrack-room, or s.n.a.t.c.hes of some popular music-hall song hummed or whistled by every urchin in the streets of London.

The concentration of the expedition had now been almost completed, and the chief topic of conversation was the immediate prospect of a desert march to Shendy.